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The air still smelled of ash. Weeks had passed, but the ruins of Blackrock lingered in Rythian’s lungs, burned into his skin like a wound that refused to close.
She eyes me like a Pisces when I am weak
He sat hunched over in the dim firelight, fingers tracing the rough wooden edges of a small box in his lap. It wasn’t special. Not really. Just a thing he’d carried with him from the wreckage, tucked away in his pack like the memories he tried not to acknowledge.
The lid creaked as he opened it, revealing its contents—a few scraps of parchment, the broken clasp of a cloak, a small, half-charred piece of something he couldn’t even remember keeping.
And, beneath it all, a single strand of red hair.
I’ve been locked inside your heart-shaped box for weeks
He wasn’t sure when he’d picked it up. Maybe before the bomb detonated, before he lost everything. Before he lost her.
I’ve been drawn into your magnet tar pit trap
“You always look like you’re waiting for the past to catch up to you.”
Zoey’s voice was quiet, careful. She stood in the entrance of their makeshift shelter, arms crossed against the chill, though her stance was relaxed. He hadn’t heard her approach, but that wasn’t surprising. He wasn’t paying attention to anything beyond the box in his hands.
She stepped closer. Her boots barely made a sound against the dirt floor, but the warmth of her presence pressed against him, undeniable.
“What is it?” she asked.
I wish I could eat your cancer when you turn black
He could have hidden it. Could have shut the box and shoved it aside. But he didn’t. Instead, he let her see.
Zoey knelt beside him, leaning in just enough for the firelight to catch in her hair. She glanced over the contents before tilting her head, lips quirking in something that wasn’t quite a smile.
“You’ve been holding onto pieces of a ghost,” she murmured.
Rythian exhaled sharply. “It’s not—” He hesitated. Swallowed. “It’s all that’s left.”
Hey, wait, I’ve got a new complaint
“Not all that’s left.” Her fingers, still calloused from battle, still shaking from everything they’d endured, brushed over his.
He wanted to pull away. Not because he didn’t want her touch, but because he did. Because it was real, because she was still here, and that meant she could still be lost.
“I couldn’t protect you,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. “I tried. I swore I would, and then—”
Then the world had burned.
Forever in debt to your priceless advice
Zoey didn’t argue. She didn’t tell him he’d done enough, that it wasn’t his fault, that he couldn’t have known what was coming. She just stayed.
Her touch moved from his fingers to his wrist, then up to his arm, grounding him.
“You saved me,” she said. “Even if it wasn’t the way you wanted to.”
Meat-eating orchids forgive no one just yet
He let out a breath, uneven and cracked at the edges. His magic was gone, torn from him in the explosion, ripped away in the desperate attempt to keep her alive. He’d lost so much, but nothing compared to the thought of losing her.
Cut myself on angel hair and baby’s breath
Zoey shifted, pressing her forehead against his temple. “I don’t need you to keep me in a box, Rythian.” Her voice was soft, teasing, but there was something else beneath it. A plea. “I’m right here.”
Broken hymen of your highness, I’m left black
He closed his eyes. For the first time since the world fell apart, he allowed himself to believe her.
Throw down your umbilical noose so I can climb right back