“Thorne? Thorne, are you inside?”
My home, my savior, my Echo has arrived.
19
ELODIE
Isaw the moment he shut down when he refused to relax, unwind, and unravel from the onslaught we had just been through. I knew my chances of arriving in the Shadow Realm were slim, but I took them anyway.
It’s a startling difference finding the balcony empty this time, unease worrying in my stomach as I stare at the derelict wastelands that surround the castle. I can only imagine what it looked like once upon a time—the entire village and the entire realm, but it seems I was never meant to see that for myself. That's not what fate had in store for me.
Returning my attention to the castle, the uncertainty about where I might find him plays on my mind until my gaze drifts to the double doors.They sit at the center of the castle, the right door slightly ajar. It hasn’t been like that once since I've been here. I'm sure of it.
I clear my throat as I brush my hair off my face and hurry across the lowered drawbridge.
“Thorne? Thorne, are you inside?” I call out, my steps slowing as I reach the door, nerves flooding my veins as I dare to glance through the gap.
My heart aches when I do, finding the man in question on his knees among the wreckage that I can only assume was left that fateful day. His palms are face up on his lap, his fingers splayed as his eyes remain hazy.
A storm brews in his eyes in a way I've never seen before, except this isn't a tempest of rage and anger; it swirls with heartache and sorrow.
Thorne is always a tricky person to approach, especially when emotions are running high, but before I can think better of it, I cut the distance between us, scurrying across the floor. I don’t think as I sink to my knees, joining him. My arms are around his neck before I can suck in a breath as I pin him to my chest.
To my surprise, he matches my hold, gripping me tighter than he ever has. Our hearts thunder asone as we refuse to let go. I’m supposed to be soothing him, yet the lightness in my chest confirms he’s comforting me just as much.
It's only when his hand draws soft strokes down my spine that I feel the air relax enough to lean back. He doesn't let me go too far, though, cupping my cheek as he runs his thumb across my skin, and I smile.
“How does everything in here feel real, even when it's a dream?” I ask, voicing the thought forever weighing on my mind, and he hums in acknowledgement.
“Because it's real to us,” he explains, his voice raspier than usual.
I run my tongue along my bottom lip, digging deep to find the strength to ask the question I don't care to know the answer to, in case it doesn't go in my favor.
“Are you doing okay? Do you need me to leave? I know that?—”
“I want you here,” he states, interjecting, and I nod with relief.
“Okay, good,” I mumble, but the air is still thick with tension.
Whatever brought him to this stance must nothave been easy, but it's the look in his eyes, the distant gaze that I cling to.
“What are you thinking about?” I ask, placing my hand over his on my cheek.
“So many things,” he admits, and curiosity burns through my veins, insisting I push on.
“Like what?”
Pained eyes meet mine. “The truth, the sadness, the pain,” he admits, rattling them off, each one cutting deeper than the last.
“I’m sorry,” I breathe, unsure which part I'm truly sorry for.
All of it.
It doesn't matter if it was my fault or not; seeing him in this state is not what I intended when I shared the words in The Fractured Book of Souls with him.
“It's not for you to apologize for, Echo. Not really. Not when only one thing feels paramount in my mind.”
My pulse thunders in my ears as I dare to ask, “And what's that?”
