I swallowed the lump in my throat. " Partners."
"Partners," he agreed.
"Is that why I feel..." I hesitated, trying to find the words for the gnawing emptiness in my chest, the ache that pulled me toward Kaelen, toward Flynn. "Is that why it hurts to be apart from you? Even a few feet?"
"The bond of the gate…" Thane said. "It is a living thing now. It is hungry. It wants to be complete. We are four corners of a house, Aria. You are the roof. A house without a roof is a ruin. A roof without walls is just debris."
He looked toward the sleeping forms of his brothers.
"We need you," he said, his voice rough with an emotion I couldn't place. "Not just as the Gate. Not just for saving the realms. We, well, we have been alone for a very long time. Even together, we were alone in our madness. You were the first voice that truly answered back. Your mother was kind, but she didn't talk to us, not like you did, and most weren't as kind as her. The only one that was different was Pandora herself."
I looked at Kaelen, feigning sleep against the rock. At Flynn, sprawled in the dirt. At Elias, twitching in his dream.
They weren't monsters. They were just lonely.
"Okay," I whispered. "Okay."
"Get some more rest," Thane urged gently. "Tomorrow we will try to begin."
I nodded, standing up. I walked back to the fire, stepping carefully over Flynn’s outstretched leg. I settled back into the space between Kaelen and the fire, pulling my knees to my chest.
Kaelen’s hand moved, sliding off his sword hilt to cover my hand where it rested on the stone. He didn't open his eyes. He didn't speak. He just held my hand, his thumb stroking my knuckles in a slow, steady rhythm.
I closed my eyes, listening to the drip of the water and the breathing of my monsters.
We were broken and being hunted and had been reduced to hiding in a dark cave, but as I drifted back to sleep, anchored by the Dragon's heat and the Bear's watch, I realized Thane was right.
We were building a house.
And tomorrow, we would see if the foundation could hold.
SIXTEEN
Aria
I woke to a silence so absolute it felt like a pressure against my eardrums.
The steady, rhythmicdrip-dropof water into the black pool was gone. The low, comforting hum of the obsidian amplifier had been cut. Even the sound of breathing, the collective, life-affirming respiratory symphony of four men and one nightmare crustacean, had vanished.
I was still propped against Kaelen’s chest, his arm heavy across my ribs, his warmth seeping into my back through the layers of scavenged wool. But something was wrong. The rise and fall of his chest, that slow, tectonic movement I had fallen asleep to, had stopped.
Panic, cold and sharp, spiked in my chest.
"Kaelen?" I whispered.
My voice didn't echo. It fell flat, absorbed instantly by the dead air.
I shifted, turning in his embrace. Kaelen’s eyes were closed, his face relaxed in a sleep that looked deceptively peaceful. But he was unnaturally still. Not the stillness of a predator waiting to strike, but the stillness of a statue carved from marble.
I reached up, pressing my hand to his cheek. It was warm, but the skin didn't yield under my touch as it should have. It felt dense. Fixed.
"Kaelen!" I shoved against him, scrambling out from under his arm.
The movement sent me sprawling onto the cavern floor. I pulled myself onto my hands and knees, my heart hammering a frantic rhythm that seemed to be the only sound in the universe.
I looked around the campsite.
Flynn was curled on his side, his hand outstretched toward where I had been sleeping. His hair was a mess, his mouth slightly open. A bead of saliva hung suspended from his lip, refusing to fall.
