Chapter 10
1557 Words
Caelum did not sleep much these days.
He didn't need to.
He preferred the company of silence, one that could not betray him. The halls of Morne Hall had grown colder since his mother's crystallization, since the death of their father, since the blood of dissenters soaked into the stone and dried there like rust.
He ruled alone now.
Elspeth sat at his right hand, quiet. Still loyal. But even she walked more carefully now.
And as for the others, they obeyed.
That was all he required.
He was sipping blackwine at his study window when the scout arrived.
Haggard, breathless, armor scratched.
Caelum didn't turn. "What did you find?"
"A rumor, my lord," the scout said. "A village near the execution fields. A man found in the forest–wounded, speaking in tongues. Taken in by a girl with... unusual features."
Caelum's spine straightened slightly.
"What kind of features?"
"They say she has... one blue eye. One brown. Skin like sun-gold. Hair pale as moonlight."
A chill moved through the room.
"Continue," Caelum said.
"Some say he was glowing. That water followed his breath. That a rat caught fire in his hand when he twitched."
The cup in Caelum's hand cracked down the side.
"So," he murmured. "The sigil failed."
He turned now, eyes like winter steel. "Where?"
"The outskirts of Dunlow, my lord. Near the orphanage by the ashmire."
"The girl?"
"Unknown. But they whisper the name Lilith."
Caelum's face went still.
Lilith.
The same name Mother once said was cursed. A name that clings like prophecy.
"Send a hunter," Caelum said coldly. "Not a soldier. Not a scout. I want someone quiet. Skilled."
"A deathblade?"
"No. Not yet." He smiled faintly. "If it's truly him... I want to see it for myself."
The scout bowed low and fled.
Caelum returned to the window, the cracked cup leaking into his hand.
He didn't feel it.
He was already imagining the boy's face.
Bruised. Alive.
And furious.
————
The wind had changed.
Valentine felt it first, not in his bones, but in his magic. The quiet stir of the air. The way shadows clung too long in the corners of the root cellar. The birds outside—too silent.
Something was coming.
He rose early, moving with purpose, packing the few scraps they had left. His strength had returned. He could walk without faltering. Cast small spells again without pain. And with each passing hour, the pull to run sharpened in his gut.
He'd survived death once.
He wouldn't tempt it again.
When Lilith entered, he was lacing his boots.
She blinked. "What are you doing?"
He didn't look at her. "I'm leaving."
The words landed like stone between them.
"No," she said.
Valentine stood, face calm but resolute. "There are whispers. I've heard them. Someone is searching."
She stepped forward. "We've been careful."
"Not careful enough."
"You're strong enough now. We can hide better, move deeper into the woods—"
"No." His tone shifted. "I won't drag you down with me."
Lilith's eyes narrowed. "You think I can't handle it?"
"I think you shouldn't have to."
She crossed the room, blocking the door.
"You owe me," she said.
"I know."
"I saved your life."
"I remember."
"I fed you. Hid you. I stitched your wounds."
He met her gaze, quiet. "And I'll carry that debt for the rest of my life. But it's my war, Lilith. Not yours."
Her voice cracked. "Why does it matter? No one here cares about me. I'm not some innocent girl you're sparing. I was thrown to Ashmire like garbage."
"That doesn't mean you should die for me."
"I already did."
Silence.
"I already died," she said, softer now. "In the cellar. In the nunnery. In the years I spent being hated for the name I didn't choose."
Her hands trembled.
"You're the first person who's looked at me like I'm not a curse."
Valentine took a slow breath. Something in him split then quietly, like ice underfoot. He stepped forward and gently touched her face.
"I'm not running from you," he whispered. "I'm running because of you."
Tears stung her eyes, but she blinked them away.
"I don't want to be your reason," she said. "I want to be your choice."
He didn't kiss her.
He didn't promise safety.
But he let his forehead rest against hers and whispered:
"Then stay with me. Just one more night. After that... we decide together."
Outside, a crow landed on the roof.
Watching.
Waiting.
The hunt had already begun.
———
Lilith couldn't sleep.
She sat near the edge of the cellar wall, knees tucked under her chin, eyes on the dim flame Valentine had conjured earlier. It still floated mid-air like a lazy firefly small, flickering, quiet.
She hated it.
Not the flame.
The silence that came with knowing he was leaving.
He hadn't said when.
Just "soon."
Just "to keep you safe."
As if safety was something she had ever known.
Ashmire Orphanage wasn't just walls and stone. It was hunger. It was punishment in the name of God. It was cold mornings, bruised knuckles, and prayers that scraped against her throat like ash.
Here, she had been forgotten.
Here, she had learned to disappear.
But in the short time Valentine had been here, half-dead, bleeding. Cursing under his breath, he'd looked at her.
Not with pity.
Not with suspicion.
But with something like... understanding.
He hadn't touched her much. Hadn't tried to fix her. He just sat with her.
Night after night, they spoke in fragments. Half-words, lingering glances, quiet smirks over stolen bread.
And somehow, that had been enough.
No one had ever stayed beside her like that before. No one had ever given her silence that didn't feel like punishment.
He did.
And now he was leaving.
She hated herself for wanting him to stay.
She'd survived worse than this. She was stronger now, harder, smarter.
But there was something about him. About the way his voice softened when he asked about her past, or the way he called her Lilith like it wasn't a curse.
He was kind to her in the quiet way that mattered most.
He saw her.
And for the first time in her life, She wanted something. Not freedom. Not revenge.
Him.
The yearning scared her more than being left behind.
Because she didn't just fear being alone again.
She feared that what they has. This soft, strange, wordless bond—would never happen again.
That he would go, and she would become someone else.
Someone empty.
She turned her head toward where he lay sleeping, the firelight tracing his face in bronze and shadow.
Lilith exhaled slowly, a whisper to no one.
"Please don't leave."
————
Valentine had never slept deeply.
Not since the Hollowing.
Not since the scream that wasn't his, and the light that wasn't flame, and the sound of his mother shattering like glass in the wind.
Sleep came in pieces now, like a spell half-cast, never finished. But tonight, something pulled him from that shallow haze.
Not danger.
Not pain.
Just... silence.
Her silence.
He opened his eyes slowly.
The root cellar was dim, save for the soft glow of the ember flame he had conjured hours before. It hovered in the air like a memory.
Lilith sat at the far wall, motionless.
Knees hugged to her chest. Chin resting atop them.
Eyes open—but far away.
He knew that look.
He'd worn it himself, once. Back when the future felt like a blade pointed at his back.
He sat up.
"You're awake," he said, voice low.
She didn't move.
"I heard you shift," she said quietly. "Didn't want to wake you."
"You didn't."
Another silence.
He watched her from across the room, the way her body seemed smaller tonight. Folded in on itself. As if holding something in.
He shifted, rising to a crouch, and moved beside her without a word. He didn't touch her.
Just sat there. Close enough to feel the warmth between them.
"I don't want you to go," she whispered.
Valentine didn't answer right away.
He knew what leaving meant. Knew the logic. The risk. The mission ahead.
But sitting here beside her, hearing her voice break like that so quiet, so bare he understood something else too.
She wasn't asking him to be her hero.
She was asking him not to disappear.
"I didn't think anyone would care if I left," he said.
She looked at him then. Really looked. "Then you're not as clever as you think."
That made him smile.
It was a sad smile.
But real.
"I'm scared," she admitted, voice cracking. "Not of dying. Not even of being caught. Just... of going back to being what I was before you came."
Valentine turned toward her fully.
"I know that fear," he said. "That you'll become the version of yourself they built for you."
"They made me small."
"They tried that with me too."
"And did it work?"
He met her eyes.
"No."
They sat in the hush that followed.
And without thinking, without needing permission, Lilith leaned into him. Rested her head on his shoulder.
He didn't pull away.
He simply said, "Then I'll stay. One more night. Maybe two."
Her voice was barely a whisper:
"Maybe three
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