ASH AND LIGHT
598 Words
Vera
The sky was bleeding by the time we reached the bridge — pinks and greys smearing across the city like the aftermath of a wound that refused to close.
We didn’t look back.
The safehouse burned behind us, a collapsing lung of flame and shadow. Every gust of wind carried the scent of smoke and ash — and memory.
Jona’s hand was tight around mine. He didn’t let go, not even when we stumbled through puddles or when my breath broke into sobs I couldn’t hold back anymore.
> “Vera,” he said softly, “breathe.”
> “I’m trying,” I whispered. “I just keep seeing his eyes.”
> “Then don’t. See mine instead.”
I looked up. Even covered in soot, blood, and half a dozen wounds he refused to acknowledge, he still looked alive. Fiercely, painfully alive.
The wind whipped through my hair. The pendant at my chest still hummed faintly — like it was remembering the power it had unleashed. I could feel it vibrating against my heart, whispering, more.
> “What if I hurt someone next time?” I asked. “What if it’s you?”
He stopped walking. “Then I’ll remind you who you are before that happens.”
> “And if I forget?”
He smiled, tired but genuine. “Then I’ll make you remember.”
---
Jona
We found an abandoned train yard at the edge of the city — rusted carriages, graffiti, silence. Perfect for ghosts like us.
I wrapped her in my jacket while I checked the perimeter. The fabric swallowed her, but she didn’t protest.
She was quieter now, but her eyes were still storm-bright.
I could feel something shifting between us — like we were on the edge of something neither of us had words for yet.
I sat beside her, our shoulders touching lightly. The world smelled like rain and iron.
> “You saved my life,” I said.
> “You’ve saved mine a dozen times.”
> “Doesn’t make this feel any less new.”
She smiled, eyes soft. “You sound surprised.”
> “I am.”
There was a long pause — the kind that hums with everything unspoken.
Then she reached up, fingers brushing the edge of the bandage on my arm.
> “Does it hurt?”
> “Only when you stop touching it.”
Her breath hitched, and for a second, the air between us stilled.
Not from fear. From want — quiet, dangerous, real.
She leaned in — not a kiss, not yet, but close enough that the warmth of her breath mixed with mine.
Outside, thunder rolled far away, like the world was exhaling with us.
---
Vera
The train car was cold, but I felt warmer than I had in days.
Jona’s voice was low, steady, like the earth itself had found a heartbeat again.
> “They’ll come again,” he said. “Stronger next time.”
> “I know.”
> “Then we’ll need allies.”
> “And if there aren’t any left?”
He looked at me — not with despair, but something deeper.
> “Then we make some.”
Something about the way he said it made me believe him.
For the first time, the fear inside me didn’t feel like chains. It felt like a reason to fight.
I leaned my head against his shoulder, and he let me.
Outside, the rain softened into mist.
For one fragile heartbeat, the world was kind.
- Writer
