Ashton nudges my shoulder lightly. “On the upside,” he murmurs, just loud enough for me to hear, “I’ve realized something important.”
“Oh?” I glance at him.
“I have terrible luck when I’m not near you,” he says, completely serious. “So, for my own survival, I’m going to have to keep you close from now on.”
I huff out a quiet laugh. “That sounds like ayouproblem.”
“Tragically, it’s ayousolution,” he replies smoothly.
Sylvian snorts softly from nearby. “Convenient how that worked out.”
“Remarkable, really,” Ashton agrees, not even a little ashamed.
Despite everything, I feel a little better. His words don't fix anything. We’re still trapped. Still underground. Still with no options. But for a moment, just a moment, it feels a little less like we’re going to die down here.
“There’s a grove near my home with trees that bear golden apples,” Sylvian says, a small smile playing on his lips. “If you eat one, it fills you with this incredible happiness. It’s like the world’s worries melt away.”
I can almost see it in my mind. The sunlight filtering through the leaves, the sweet scent of the apples hanging in the air. Sylvian, even happier than ever. Golden light pouring over his bronzed skin and perfect face.
“And there’s a river near my castle,” Ashton adds, his tone more animated now, some of that familiar spark slipping back into his voice. “The fish there glitter like jewels, and they sing. It’s… surreal, really.”
He glances at me as he says it, like he’s not just describing the place, but offering it. I can picture it, not just the river, but him there. Standing at the edge of the water, the light catching in his hair, that crooked smile on his face as he watches something beautiful and pretends it doesn’t affect him. The kind of place that feels alive in a quiet, impossible way, where the air hums with something soft and magic, and the sound of it would wrap around you until you forgot everything else.
It doesn’t feel like a story. It feels like somewhere I could step into… somewhere he’s inviting me to see.
“You’d like it,” Oberon says, turning to me, his brown eyes warm and earnest. “We’ll take you there when this is all over.”
The idea of seeing these places with them, of having a future where we’re not constantly fighting for survival, sends a strange warmth through me. It’s an odd feeling, wanting something like that. Wanting a future where they’re part of my life. I’m not sure what to make of it, but it blooms like a flower, fragile yet determined to grow.
Overhead, the first rumble of thunder breaks the quiet, shaking me from my thoughts. I look up, watching as dark clouds roll across the sky, blotting out the stars and swallowing the moonlight. Lightning flashes, illuminating the pit for a brief moment, casting eerie shadows that dance along the walls.
“Great,” Oberon mutters, crossing his arms, his expression darkening as the storm rolls in. “Stuck in a pit during a storm. Just our luck.”
The rain starts as a light drizzle, barely more than a mist against my skin, but within moments it turns into a downpour. Cold water pours into the pit, onto us, soaking the ground beneath us, dripping down the walls, pooling around our boots. The chill cuts through me fast and deep, sinking into my bones like it’s determined to stay.
I suck in a sharp breath, my body reacting before I can stop it. My arms wrap around myself, but it doesn’t help. The cold keeps creeping in, relentless. My teeth start to chatter, a faint tremor at first, then worse, my whole body beginning to shake.
“Gods,” Ashton mutters, looking up at the sky above us. “I asked myself how this pit could get worse, and the world answered. That’s on me.”
I try to regain control, but it’s hopeless. The trembling only intensifies, locking up my muscles and numbing my fingers.
“Alette.” Sylvian is there before I can respond, his hand firm on my arm as he pulls me toward him. “Come here.”
I don’t argue. I don’t have the strength to.
He sits and draws me down into his lap, wrapping his arms around me immediately, one hand sliding up and down my arm in slow, steady strokes, trying to bring warmth back into my skin.
“Easy,” he murmurs, his voice low and soothing near my ear. “You’re alright.”
“I’m fine,” I try to say, but it comes out shaky, barely controlled.
“You’re freezing,” he replies gently, not believing me for a second. His hands keep moving over my arms, firm and rhythmic, like he’s trying to will the warmth back into me. “My little human,” he adds softly, almost to himself.
That seems to snap the others into motion.
Oberon moves in first, crouching close behind me, his hand coming to my side, warm even through the soaked fabric as he rubs hard, trying to generate heat. Ashton shifts in on my other side, his arm sliding around me, pulling me between him and Sylvian, his usual teasing gone, replaced with something more focused.
“Gods, you’re ice cold,” Ashton mutters, his hand moving up and down my other arm, mirroring Sylvian’s movements.
