I place the bone beneath the bed, at the headboard. Then I do it again.And again. Three shards. Three breaks. A triangle of protection drawn from my own body.
She will wake surrounded by godfire, not shadow.
And if they return?—
They will bleed on Rhavari soil.
I curl beside her,pulling her tight against my side, tucking her head under my chin into a cage of warmth.
My lips hover over her ear, “Ves’kael narh ves thalûn. Etra’kai lûn, Saelûn. Ael’mira ves kai’mirûn.”(I stay even inyour silence. You are safe, soulbond. I will guard you until you no longer wish it.)
She stirs, her hand curling into the fur of my chest like she’s reaching for me in her sleep.
I close my eyes.
“Nôrak ven’saelûn.
Narh veylnara.
Narh skarth.
Narh veylor.
Veskael ar’thael kai’aelûn.
Velunther ves kai’saelûn.”
(They will not take her. Not in dreams. Not in flesh. Not in name. I’ll unmake the sky before I let her forget me.)
13
LACE
Anonymous-
She stirred. Not much—just a breath, a twitch of her fingers against the blanket I tucked around her. I watch it happen in real time on my screen: the slight furrow of her brow, the soft rise and fall of her chest.
I wonder what she’s dreaming about... I wonder if it’s me? My thumb glides across the screen as I zoom in, frame by frame—there, the moment she tries to open her eyes, and she almost makes it. But she’s still suspended in the soft, yielding fog of my control. The feed skips, and suddenly he’s there—I clench my jaw as his hands, those massive, bone-shifting hands, invade the frame.How dare he undress her!The sight burns, acidic and raw, in my throat.I bandaged her, I carried her, I prepared her for waking—and now he takes credit for her safety?
Rage sears through my chest, hot and metallic. He violates the care I provided with his crude, possessive touch and then claims intimacy as if he is capable of anything but destruction.
I watch him dress her in the pink sweats she wore to the coffee shop on Tuesday. He thinks this simple domesticitymakes him safe. He thinks washing the dirt away erases my presence. It only proves how deeply I’ve already burrowed.
I could’ve kept you, Lumi. Do you understand what that means? You’re still breathing because I let you. Because you belong to something higher now—me. So now I’ll watch him play house, because it's worth seeing the look in your eyes when you wake—that is the true reward.
You’ll realize you’re clean—but not untouched. Safe—but never unmarked.
And you won’t know what’s worse—what I could’ve done, or what it means that I didn't.
You’ll flinch every time the tea kettle screams, you’ll check every room twice before turning out the lights... if you can bring yourself to turn them off at all.
You’ll read my note over and over again. I can't wait until you see what I wrote inside. I chose that page from your journal carefully—the one you wrote after your sister’s funeral. The ink was already smudged from your tears. I added a single sentence that you’ll know you didn’t write.
I want you to wonder… to doubt: Your memory, your grief, yourself.
That’s the beauty of precision, little dove: everyone’s afraid of the monster who kicks down the door, but no one notices the man who picks the lock to leave flowers on your kitchen table.
Lumi-
