Maren laughed, the sound weak but genuine. "We're a mess."
"Yeah." Tristan pulled her flush against his chest, sharing what little warmth remained between them. "But we won."
She looked at the empty space where the doppelgänger had stood. "The locket's destroyed. The construct's gone. But Wellsstill vandalized my home. The town still believes I'm dangerous. Nothing's actually changed except the immediate threat."
"Everything's changed." Tristan's hand found her face, turning her to look at him. "We destroyed something that shouldn't have existed. Stopped it from hurting anyone else. That counts."
“If we both freeze out here because we're too weak to walk back, does it really count?" She wanted it to be a joke, but it felt all too real of a possibility.
"We're not dying." Tristan's voice carried absolute certainty. "Someone's coming. I can feel it."
Maren wanted to point out they were alone on a frozen lake with a dead storm and no strength left to call for help.
But her vision was fading, consciousness slipping away despite her effort to hold on. The last thing she saw was Tristan's ice-blue eyes, steady and certain, watching her like he could keep her alive through will alone.
Then darkness took her under, and she knew nothing else.
34
TRISTAN
Tristan didn't remember standing.
One moment he was sitting on the ice with Maren unconscious in his arms, the next he was on his feet, legs shaking but holding. His body moved on autopilot, years of training overriding hypothermia and exhaustion.
He lifted her carefully, cradling her against his chest. She was too light, too still, blood soaking through what remained of her clothes. But her heart beat against his ribs, faint but steady.
Alive.
That was enough to keep him moving.
The shore seemed impossibly far but he walked anyway, each step deliberate. The ice held beneath his weight. The shadows Maren had created to pull him from the water had dissipated, leaving only normal frozen lake surface.
He reached solid ground as voices carried through the trees.
"There! On the shore!"
Figures emerged from the forest. The mob that had chased Maren, still armed, still angry. Thomas Wells at the front, club raised.
Tristan positioned himself between them and Maren, his body screaming protest at the movement. If they wanted her, they'd have to go through him. Again.
But Wells stopped short, his face going pale. "Is she?—"
"Alive." Tristan's voice came out rough, damaged by cold and the roar that had helped shatter the locket. "Barely."
"We saw it." This from Maya Brennan, the woman who'd witnessed the attack at the apothecary. She pushed forward, eyes wide. "From the trees. We saw the shadow creature attack both of you. She saved you from drowning, too, didn’t she?"
"The construct," Tristan corrected, trying harder to focus through the edging of unconsciousness. "The doppelgänger. It was using her blood and magical signature to frame her while it caused the incidents."
"We saw two of her," Wells said, his club lowering. "One with black veins, glowing eyes. The other bleeding and trying to survive."
"The real one bled," Maya added. "The fake one just smiled and kept attacking. Even when you went into the water, it stood there laughing. But she…" She pointed at Maren. "She used her shadows to pull you out. Created a bridge across the water. We saw everything."
Tristan felt true relief. They'd seen. Finally seen the difference between shadow witch and shadow monster.
"Where's the creature now?" Wells asked, looking past Tristan toward the lake.
"Destroyed. The locket that created it is gone. It can't reform."
