Mia quickly returned to her usual quiet demeanor. They packed up, ate some stale bread John had packed from Blueriver, and started walking. She limped for the first half-hour, but the movement seemed to ease the stiffness in her leg as they continued. The snow beneath them grew lighter as they moved south, even over the short distance they’d covered.
She found it amusing that now they were taking breaks, not for her, but for Lucas, who was struggling with a relentless headache. Despite yesterday’s burst of adrenaline, the blow to his head was clearly taking its toll. Every so often, he’d rub his temples, his fingers lingering as though he could push the pain out by sheer will.
The woods began to clear, and according to Lucas’s map, they’d covered over twenty miles. To Mia, that distance felt enormous, yet he spoke as if it were nothing, saying things like:
“My brother and I used to cover twice that in two days.” Or, more annoyingly, “Ellgrick? We’ve been through a few nations altogether.”
He wasn’t trying to irritate her, and it was partly her own questions that prompted these responses. Still, his answers were quickly becoming a pet peeve. She couldn’t entirely explain why—maybe it was how he insisted on how hard it all was yet retold the memories with such happiness.
Ellgrick had been harder than he made it sound. There were days he and Sebastian walked until dawn; feet so numb they barely felt the ground. But to Lucas, every mile was a chance to find something new. Something Lucas didn’t like to talk about.
They reached the edge of the woods, where farmland stretched out before them, leading to a small town in the distance. Snow fell much lighter here, and townsfolk moved tirelessly through the fields, some tending to crop, others pushing carts. The farmers wore thick, tattered coats, skin weathered and worn, but their movements were swift, as though they’d grown up pushing against the cold.
“I’m surprised anything grows in this weather…” Mia muttered as they took another break.
Lucas squinted at the fields. “They don’t, really… I’ve seen this before on my travels. They’re just keeping the plants healthy enough to survive the season.” He started to explain further, but Mia suddenly elbowed him. “Ow—Mia! What was that for?”
“You need to close that big, beautiful mouth of yours.”
“What?” He blinked, caught off guard.
She tilted her head, half-smiling. “You know so much… and, no offense, but it can get a little annoying.”
“Well… I’ll try to keep it down, I guess.” He sighed, rubbing his arm where she’d elbowed him, and Mia forced back a smile. He nodded toward the small town, which looked almost miniature from their vantage point. “That’s Chepstow… about ten miles from here. We could make it before mid-afternoon tomorrow.”
She gave him a playful poke on the head, causing him to wince. “You sure you can handle it?”
“Yes, I’m sure,” he muttered, brushing her hand away. Then, after a moment, Lucas looked at her, his tone shifting slightly. “Mia… when we separate in town. What are you going to do?”
Every step toward Chepstow tightened something in her chest. She wouldn’t say it, but the idea of leaving him… it didn’t feel as liberating as she’d thought, “Oh.” Mia’s voice was soft at first. “I don’t know,” she said quietly, her gaze shifting. “Maybe…” She quickly tried to steer the conversation back to safer ground. “I’ll just have to stalk you again?”
Lucas chuckled, but it was weak, his hand moving up to his head. “Ugh… even laughing hurts.” Still, he managed a smile.
Her light blue eyes locked onto his face. “You know, your smile is nice, Lucas. You should do it more often.” The words tumbled out before she could stop them, and for a moment, she wished she hadn’t said anything at all. Feeling attached wasn’t part of her plan.
“It’s hard to, around you,” he teased.
“Oh…” Mia replied dramatically. “See? Now that’s fun.” She nudged him playfully, then noticed how Lucas’s hand rested on the hilt of his dagger. They continued walking in silence, but her eyes kept flicking to his hand. Curiosity finally got the best of her. “Your dagger, Lucas…” Mia began.
“Uh…” He let go of it, keeping his gaze forward, though he seemed momentarily startled. “What about it?”
She glanced ahead, choosing her words carefully. “In the tower… it somehow ended up on my side of the rubble,” she recalled slowly. “It glowed in the dark… whispered into my head…”
“Wait… did you touch it?”
“Yes.” She looked into his eyes, noting how intently he was now watching her, analyzing her every expression. “I didn’t really have another choice…”
“It—it’s fine…” Lucas sighed, though the tone in his voice hinted otherwise. “This dagger, Mia, it does things to you.”
“What kind of things?”
“Your thoughts… it twists them. It doesn’t just take; it shapes. What’s real and what’s not—it blurs the lines,” Lucas explained, his tone unsure, as if he barely trusted his own words. “Sometimes, it reminds me of things I’d rather forget… or shows me pieces of memories that don’t even feel like mine.”
Mia’s gaze lowered, processing. That’s impossible, she thought, though she trusted Lucas wasn’t insane. “So, why keep it around?”
“Well.” He sighed. “That’s a good question.” A weak laugh escaped him. “My father gave it to me—or rather, to my brother—a long time ago. He said it was made by the Odysseans. All I know about them is they were an old, powerful cult. And apparently, this blade was only meant for someone ‘worthy’ enough to use it.” His hand hovered near it again. “If you’re alone with it too long, it can make you hallucinate. Maybe worse. That’s why I went to Blueriver—to be around people. It’s like a purge to the effect.”
“When I held it…” Mia’s voice trailed off as she remembered the strange warmth that had pulsed from its hilt, like a heartbeat. “It didn’t feel cold or sharp, not like any other weapon I’ve touched. It was… alive, somehow.”
Lucas didn’t respond, and for the first time, Mia felt a coldness radiating from him. She decided to let it go, pulling her jacket tighter around herself as they walked. The snow underfoot thinned into light, crunchy patches, packing further with each step. Their pace slowed as they reached the cusp of the farmland. No one was out this far, miles from any living soul, though signs of recent work remained — dead hay scattered across the ground, buckets of water now half-frozen, and the faint, earthy smell of manure used to keep the soil rich and healthy.
Mia shifted her thoughts, realizing they hadn’t spoken about Summer since the incident. Their mount had bolted when the noise startled her, or at least that was Lucas’s theory. She couldn’t help but wonder if the horse was clever enough to find her way to Chepstow—or if she was now wandering, lost, somewhere deep in the woods.
The thought might have saddened her, but Mia didn’t let it. Summer was, after all, just another soul stranded by her own fear. Instead, Mia took it as a lesson — a reminder to never become that way herself, to avoid repeating the same mistake. Perhaps… to be a little more careful.
“Look at this.” Lucas tapped her shoulder, pulling Mia from her thoughts. She followed his gaze to a broken carriage, still mostly intact, with a roof that curved at the top and straight walls, though the polished red wood was now sunken and damp.
“We could sleep inside tonight,” he suggested, pointing to some broken material inside. “And that wood? I’d bet it’s dry enough to burn.”
She nodded, and Lucas put an arm around her, helping Mia into the carriage and onto one of the wooden benches, still cushioned but hardened by dirt and age. She made a face, but as Lucas pointed out, it was the best they were going to get. He gathered the broken wood, arranging it in a small teepee shape, then struck his flint and steel over it.
“Damn it,” he muttered, striking again with no success. His gaze shifted to some dead hay piled in a nearby wheelbarrow. Grabbing a handful, he arranged it carefully around the wood, then struck the flint once more. Nothing. Lucas took a deep breath, focusing, and with one last strike, an ember finally caught, sparking a small flame. His eyes widened as he shielded it from the wind with his hands.
She told herself it was just curiosity, a passing interest in his ease with the flint and steel. But as he worked, brow furrowed, she couldn’t help but notice the way his face softened in the firelight, shadows catching the angles of his jaw. “That’s attractive,” she murmured.
Lucas, intent on coaxing the flame to life, chose not to respond, lightly blowing on the embers.
She closed her eyes with a smile. “Come on… amuse me.”
“Amuse you?” Lucas grunted, stepping back as the fire grew. He took a deep breath and let himself fall back, the warmth spreading over him and raising goosebumps. “I lit a fire. How’s that attractive?”
“Hmm…” she mused, moving forward to sit on the step of the carriage, closer to the fire’s warmth. The orange flames cast a glow over her skin, coloring her in a soft crimson hue. “Competence, really.”
Lucas tilted his head down, letting the flames warm the top of his dark brown hair. His gaze stayed fixed on Mia, who thought, in the firelight, that he looked almost animalistic.
“You never told me,” She began curiously. “How you lost your brother.”
“Long story,” he replied simply, his tone leaving little room for questions.
She tilted her head thoughtfully. “It’ll be a long night.” But one look at his eyes told her not to press further. Above them, the sky darkened, hues of twilight blending into descending night.
The days felt unusually short to Lucas, who was used to the milder seasons of Southern Ellgrick. Still, he knew time had a way of slipping past quickly, especially out here. They’d walked through the woods for hours, and another half-hour had passed since entering the farmlands. He hoped no one would notice them camping here, though he figured the sight wouldn’t be too strange; Chepstow was a modest town but bustling with travelers passing through.
Silence lingered for twenty minutes, stretching thinly across the quiet. The strain of the day — something that typically would have slid off him with ease — now pressed down on Lucas, his eyes fighting to stay open. His head injury, he figured, had something to do with it. At last, he relented, slipping into the carriage and sprawling onto its wooden floor. The warmth from the fire receded, but he barely noticed; exhaustion had dulled his senses.
Soon, he sensed movement beside him, a presence settling close, radiating heat. Mia lay down mere inches away, her eyes already closed as if sharing this space with him were the most natural thing in the world. Lucas blinked, startled, but any thought of protest vanished as his fatigue took hold. In a heartbeat, he succumbed, falling into a deep, untroubled sleep.
Mia shifted slightly, her hand grazing his arm as she settled. She thought he might pull away, yet his breathing remained steady, his hand lingering just close enough to feel the warmth. It was strange, she thought, how silence could hold so much. She did not sleep much that night, but instead, enjoyed the closeness.
ns 15.158.61.54da2
