She cupped her hands and doused her face, over and over, but the dread remained, pressing down on her in all directions. It numbed her will to carry on, to move forward. What was the point of escaping Grythorn if this was what freedom felt like?
Nightmares, and waking up screaming.
Fear—pressing in from all sides.
Guilt so heavy she could hardly stand beneath it.
She wrapped her arms around herself, as if that would help her hold herself together . . . but it didn’t.
She had no family here. No future. No one was waiting for her to come home, for she had no home to return to.
Her father. Her mother. They wouldn’t feel her absence, nor know of her struggles to survive. They wouldn’t light a candle or speak her name. As far as they knew, she’d escaped and was well—and maybe that was for the best.
If she died, would anyone mourn her loss? Would Damien? Or would he just press forward like he always did, carrying the weight of yet another broken thing?
The ache inside her was too loud to think. Too wide to escape.
She was so tired.
So unbelievably tired of hurting, of fearing, of hoping for something better and getting nothing. The pain felt like it had always been there; like it always would be.
There was no light. No way out.
She looked out at the lake. The water was still and black, like before—a mirror of everything inside her.
She didn’t hesitate.
She stripped off her clothes, boots forgotten in the grass. Her skin prickled in the cold night air, but she didn’t feel it . . . not really.
She took one step, then another until she was running.
The cold water felt like the press of a blade against her skin, but she didn’t care. She welcomed it; shewantedit to hurt. Wanted her body to match the numbness already spreading through her soul.
The cold rushed up past her knees, then her waist, each step slower than the last.
She had left the people of Grythorn susceptible to unicorn attacks, and for what? For her own selfish desire to be free. Was it even worth it if so many were going to die?
Her skin burned. Her breath caught. Still, she kept going. The water climbed up her ribs, her chest, her neck.
And then—she dove under.
Shock stole the last bit of air from her lungs.
And everything stilled as the noise in her head quieted and the world above disappeared.
Here, under the black surface, there was no war. No lies. No mother who abandoned her, no lover to betray her, and no king threatening her. There were no monsters hiding in plain sight, nor in the shadows.
Just cold blackness.
It wrapped around her, dragging her deeper into the dark. Her ears rang. Her chest convulsed. Her lungs screamed for air, for light, for anything.
But she refused, forcing herself to stay under and surrender to the quiet.
A small voice sounded, echoing a memory that was once her plan.
Emily thinks I’m hiding in a cabin.
If I die, she’ll wait forever for me—and I’ll never come back.
