A few minutes passed as the two of them remained in each other's arms. His breathing had slowed, the erratic rise and fall of his chest easing as he tried to find a rhythm. The wind outside howled, rattling the frost-covered window at the far end of the room. They both jumped at the sudden noise, their gazes snapping to the sound. Relief swept over them when it became clear it was nothing more than the weather.
"You better now?" she asked, her voice softer now as their eyes met.
He exhaled, glancing down at his hands. "I wouldn't say better... just calmer."
"Well, like I said, one step at a time. Plus, I think we've got all the time in the world here," she remarked, her tone almost too casual, as though brushing off the gravity of their situation. She eased him back into the bed, watching as he sank into the mattress, clearly drained. Pulling the hoodie over her head, she handed it back to him.
"You'll definitely need it more than me now," she said, holding it out.
He hesitated, looking between her and the hoodie. "You sure? Your shirt's, uh, kind of wrecked." He gestured awkwardly toward the tear across her side.
She shrugged, tossing the hoodie onto his lap with finality. "Eh, there's gotta be something around here I can use."
He gave a faint smile, too weak to argue further, and slipped the hoodie on. As the fabric settled over him, warmth radiated through his body—something more than just physical heat. He stilled for a moment, puzzled by the sudden calm that washed over him. His gaze flicked toward her. She was rummaging through a nearby drawer, searching for anything useful.
"Hey... how can you be so calm after everything?" he asked, his voice tinged with genuine curiosity. His hands moved to wrap around himself, the hoodie providing comfort he hadn't expected.
She froze, her fingers brushing over the edge of a dusty shirt. Slowly, she exhaled and straightened up, not turning to face him. "I was created to be calm in stressful situations... by her." Her voice was quieter now, words deliberate. "It was at Amnea—or how you'd know it, The Fall of Amnea. She couldn't handle what was happening, and I... appeared. I'm just her way of coping. A tool."
He let out a laugh, not mocking but almost incredulous. It startled her enough that she turned to look at him, brow furrowed.
"What's so funny?" she asked, her annoyance barely concealed.
He grinned weakly, trying to suppress his laughter. "Heh... Back when we were kids, he got bullied constantly. Add the fact that the only parental figure we ever had didn't care enough to visit, and, well... let's just say anger became his default." His grin faded, replaced by a distant expression. "One day, when they were beating on him, they took... her." His voice faltered, his gaze clouding over. "They took her from us. He blacked out, and... I came into being."
Her lips pressed into a thin line as the weight of his words settled. "So, both of us are just things they can use and throw away whenever they want."
He looked down, his hands clenching into fists. Despite the bitterness of her statement, her presence seemed to ground him. She turned back to the drawer, resuming her search.
"What did you do to him anyway?" she asked casually, though her tone carried a hint of suspicion.
He sighed, sinking deeper into the bed. "I put him to sleep. He's... dreaming, I guess. Living out his own world in here." He tapped the side of his head, his voice growing quieter. "Kind of."
Her hand paused mid-air as she glanced back at him. "Can you see what's going on?"
He hesitated before answering. "...Sort of." The exhaustion in his tone was palpable.
"You okay?" she asked, her voice softening as she caught the shift in his demeanor.
"I just... need to process everything. It's all gonna be so different now. Sorry." His hands dropped to his sides, his gaze fixed on the ceiling.
She finally found a shirt that fit her—a plain but clean long-sleeve—and stood, holding it up for inspection. Looking at him, she cleared her throat awkwardly. "Uh... can you turn the other way? I kinda want to get this bloody mess off me."
He blinked, his face reddening as he quickly turned onto his side. "Oh, yeah. Sure."
She rolled her eyes, muttering under her breath as she changed. "Who knew swapping a bloody shirt with a hole in the side for something warm could feel this good?" She stretched, the fabric snug but comfortable.
"Can I turn around now? I don't like resting on this side," he mumbled, still facing the wall.
Walking into his line of sight, she smirked as he flinched and immediately averted his gaze.
Locking the door they had come through, she muttered, "I don't know what time it is, but I'm tired. You should rest too. I definitely don't feel safe with that door unlocked." She sat on the bed next to him.
His eyes darted to the other beds. "Uh, not to be rude, but there are, like, two other beds."
She placed a hand on his forehead, ignoring his protest. "True. But it's easier to keep tabs on you here." Sliding down onto the mattress beside him, she turned onto her side. "If it's too awkward, I'll move. I just want to make sure you don't die on me."
Resigned, he turned away, getting comfortable. "Thanks," he murmured, his eyes closing.
Content, she turned her back to him as well. "You know, you look good in that hoodie," she said lightly.
He scoffed, his voice muffled by sleep. "This hoodie's just gonna remind me of everything."
She exhaled softly, her tone reassuring. "Well, we can only make the best of what comes next."
The wind howled outside as snow continued to fall, blanketing the world in quiet desolation. Inside, warmth and understanding grew in the faint glow of candlelight.
He jolted awake, the silence of the room broken only by the pounding of his own heart. His body wouldn't obey him—limbs stiff and unresponsive as he strained to move. Panic clawed at him as his eyes darted around the room, landing on her. His breath hitched, horror seizing him. She lay beside him, cleaved in half. Her lifeless orange eyes stared into his soul, and a scream rose in his throat, but no sound escaped.
Tears welled in his eyes, blurring the gruesome image. He thrashed against the paralysis, every muscle in his body burning with the effort to break free. He blinked—and suddenly, a figure hovered above him, grinning with his own face. Its eyes gleamed with malice as it spoke, its voice a twisted echo of his own.
"Oh, but you know this is all too real," it sneered, leaning closer. "You remember what it felt like, don't you? Watching the light leave their eyes."
He squeezed his eyes shut, forcing the memory of its voice away. "This isn't real," he whispered to himself, over and over. His fingers twitched as he willed control back into his body, clinging to the mantra. His breathing grew ragged, uneven, as the figure's laugh filled his ears.
Suddenly, he clenched his fist and surged upright, lightning flashing outside and bathing the room in a stark, fleeting light. Thunder roared in its wake, shaking the walls. Sweat dripped from his brow as he panted, his breath visible in the freezing air.
She stirred from her sleep, startled by the sound of his audible breaths. Turning to him, she saw his trembling form sitting on the bed, his hands clutching his head.
"You okay?" she asked, her voice laced with concern as she sat up.
He glanced at her, relief flooding through him as the nightmare unraveled into nothing. She was whole, alive. "I—" His voice cracked. He took a shaky breath, his words finally spilling out. "Just a bad dream. Sorry."
She slid closer, placing a hand gently on his back. "Hey, it's okay. Take a minute to breathe," she said, her voice steady and grounding. She guided his hand down from his head, her touch firm but reassuring.
But the weight of his thoughts pressed harder. He couldn't meet her gaze. "I need a minute. Just... go back to sleep." He forced a tight smile before standing and heading for the door.
Unlocking it, he stepped into the hallway, closing the door softly behind him. The icy air nipped at his skin, and he clenched his fists, forcing himself forward into the dark. He raised a trembling hand, summoning faint flickers of electricity to light his way. Shadows danced along the stone walls as he moved.
Spotting a door on his right, he pushed it open and slipped inside. It was another guest room, empty save for the remnants of disuse. He leaned against the door, exhaling sharply as his breath misted in the frigid air.
But the cold wasn't just around him. It was seeping from him. Ice crept across the floor, spreading outward from where he knelt. He slammed a fist into the ground, spikes of ice erupting in jagged chaos. The walls groaned as frost climbed them, and the bed shattered into splinters beneath the sudden assault.
Only the mirror remained intact. He caught his reflection and froze.
The figure staring back wasn't him. It was a shadow—a pitch-black silhouette with glowing, circular eyes and a grotesque, stretched grin.
"No..." he whispered, his voice trembling as his hand rose instinctively. The reflection mimicked him, summoning a shard of ice that shattered the glass with a sharp crack.
He stumbled backward, collapsing against the frozen door as the ice continued its relentless march under it, creeping into the hallway. His head pounded with memories—visions of his friends falling, his hands stained with their blood. He slammed his head against the door, desperate to silence them.
"Why?" he choked out. "Why couldn't we just stay in Lindos? Me and him, arguing over stupid stuff. Ale and Sky always with us..." His voice broke as he clutched his head.
The ice crawled higher, trapping his legs. His fists clenched as tears streamed down his face. "Why couldn't we meet any other way? Just as friends. Not as pawns in Father's stupid fight. Is it too much to ask for a normal life?!" He slammed his fist against the ground, the sound muffled by the encroaching frost.
Back in the other room, she noticed the sudden chill and the light reflecting off the frost creeping under the door. She bolted upright, her heart pounding as the temperature dropped.
Meanwhile, his breathing grew ragged, his chest heaving as he struggled against the ice. Memories and regrets consumed him, dragging him deeper into despair. He barely noticed the knock at the door.
Her voice broke through. "Listen, I can't say I know how you feel, and I don't know if I can help. But please... don't lose yourself to this. I may not be her, but I can't lose someone else."
He squeezed his eyes shut, her words barely reaching him. "I don't want the same thing to happen to you!" he shouted back, his torso now encased in ice.
"It won't! That person wasn't you!" she yelled, her voice urgent.
"What if I lose control again? What if I destroy everything I touch?" His voice cracked with anguish.
On the other side of the door, she took a deep breath, her hands trembling. Summoning a sledgehammer made of spirit energy, she whispered a silent apology to a memory before swinging with all her might.
The door gave way after a few strikes, shattering into icy splinters. She dropped the hammer and knelt beside him, ignoring the frost creeping up her arms. Wrapping her arms around him, she held him tightly, the cold biting into her skin.
"Why? Why do you care so much? After what I did... what I could do!" he cried, his tears freezing as they fell.
"Because I don't care about the 'what ifs,'" she said, her voice firm yet gentle. "Right now, all I see is someone who's been dealt terrible cards. Let's play them together. Maybe we can cheat this stupid game."
The ice cracked and began to recede as he took a shuddering breath. Her warmth reached him even through the frost.
"Just... don't go dying on me either," he muttered, his voice raw.
She managed a small, weary smile. "Deal. But only if you promise not to freeze me solid next time."
For the first time, he let out a shaky laugh, the storm within him finally beginning to calm.9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡDGYxXS3zcZ
