He could hear the roar of the flames, the crack of timber, the desperate shouts of men and servants he could barely name. Smoke clawed at his throat, burned his lungs, yet he could not move once again.
“Father!”
The anguish rang in his ears.
Once again, he could see the beam above, thick and blackened, suspended as if waiting, and the heat of the fire was all around him, suffocating and relentless.
“Cassian! Move!”
His mother’s voice cut through the chaos just as it had years ago. He could have sworn that he saw her then, her face streaked with soot and tears, her hands trembling as she shook him by the shoulders.
“Help!”
But he did not. He had panicked, he had frozen, and the beam had fallen. The flames had consumed everything that night, leaving charred walls and so much grief that he had never been able to contain it.
Now, the smell of smoke brought it all back. He choked back a groan, his hands balled into fists by his sides. The fear clawed at him, sharp and bitter.
Not again,he swore to himself.Not her.
And with that promise, his mind sharpened. He inhaled, forcing his body to remember the discipline that had kept him alive since that night.
The fire in the corridor was real, but that did not mean that he had to succumb to his anxiety a second time. Instead, he had to be ready and act, no matter the cost to himself.
He drew sharp breaths, pushing past the memories. The danger was real, and Adelaide was at risk, and he could not even think about what could happen to her if he did nothing.
So he ran.
He dashed along the corridor, tripping and steadying himself only enough to avoid stumbling, then surging forward again, his mind entirely focused.
The corridor thickened with smoke, which curled along the ceiling. His lungs burned as he ran, his heart hammering with past loss and present fear. He did not think, did not hesitate. He only knew he had to reach his wife.
He reached her door and slammed his shoulder against it. It did not yield.
“Adelaide!” he shouted, his voice raw and urgent. “Open the door!”
“I-I cannot,” she called back. “I cannot move.”
He stiffened. Was she trapped?
“What do you mean?”
“I am at my window. The smoke, it—it is too much for me to cross.”
But Cassian did not care about how thick the smoke was, nor the harm that could come to him by inhaling it. With a second, violent shove, the door swung open.
Adelaide spun around, coughing harshly, small and terrified in the pale moonlight. “Cassian!” she gasped in relief.
He did not hesitate. He crossed the room, lifted her into his arms, and held her close. Her weight anchored him, keeping the memories away. All he could think of was the fact that he had to save her, at any cost.
“Hold on to me,” he urged, his voice low but commanding. “Do not let go.”
She wrapped her arms around his neck, and he felt her tremble against his chest. He left the room and followed the hallways by memory.
He knew that it was not the time for words, but just as he had not given her the necklace at the perfect moment, he knew he had to say something.
After all, he did not know how much time they would have with one another before tragedy struck again.
“I have tried to be and do many things,” he began. “I have tried to be the man I thought I should be. I have tried to hide what I feel, to shield myself from what I could not face. But I cannot hide from this. I cannot hide from you, Adelaide. Not anymore.”
