The cave was silent save for the slow, rhythmic breath of the three resting figures.
Outside, frost kissed the leaves and traced silver veins along the rocks. Inside, a dim blue glow from the fading embers gave the illusion of calm, of safety.
Crypt's eyes snapped open.
For a moment, he couldn't move. His body trembled, his chest tight, his breath caught in his throat.
The voice of his father still echoed in his ears, stern and deep and filled with something that disturbed him more than he wanted to admit.
"You wanted to know why I did that?"
He turned his head and saw her. Bloom.
Her dark blue hair spilled like the night sky across the bedding, her face relaxed, unguarded in sleep. Her lashes fluttered once, a soft sigh escaping her lips as she turned toward the warmth of the fire, and away from him.
Crypt didn't know what it was that twisted inside his chest then. A pang? A warning?
His heart beat too fast for comfort. He sat up, letting the animal skin blanket fall from his shoulders. The air nipped at his bare chest, but he barely noticed.
He looked down at his hands. They trembled.
His bones felt too tender, like they were melting.
Like they didn't belong to him anymore. A weight pressed against his spine. Not physical, but something primal, something ancient.
An instinct screaming from within.
Uncomfortable and confused, he rose quietly, barely disturbing the fire. He didn't bother with covering up more as Bloom had suggested they did.
He slipped out of the cave, guided by moonlight and memory, toward the small stream down the slope.
The cold didn't matter. He needed water.
Needed to feel it on his skin, to remind himself who he was. What he was.
As he knelt beside the stream, the chill kissed his skin, grounding him.
The serpent within stirred, curling around his heart. Yet even then, the softness wouldn't fade. He cupped the water and let it run over his face. Still, his father's words haunted him.
"You'll lose her. She'll leave you."
He didn't want to believe that. But the fear had already taken root.
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Back in the cave, the fire crackled gently.
Rhaëlya murmured something in her sleep, her brow creasing for a brief second.
Carmen stirred.
The scorpion woman's breath hitched as she sat bolt upright, her golden eyes wide in the dark.
For a heartbeat, she was elsewhere. She was younger. Smaller. Surrounded by shadows and rough hands and hateful snarls.
That life had clawed at her. Marked her.
But this time, when she woke, she wasn't alone.
She turned slowly and saw Bloom, her soon to be mate, sleeping peacefully just a few arm-lengths away.
Her tension didn't fade. In fact, it deepened. Carmen clenched her jaw.
"Bloom…" she whispered, voice rough with sleep and something darker.
She pressed a hand over her chest, where her heart thundered like a thousand thunders. Her other hand reached for the small leather pouch she always kept near.
With trembling fingers, she opened it and pulled out her worship statuette.
Two small figures, carved from bone and shell. The Goddess of Sand. The Scorpion Matriarch. The Spear of Rage. The Mother of Wards.
She lined them up in front of her knees, trying to focus.
But her mind wouldn't let go.
She could still feel it, hose hateful hands from her memory, grabbing, tearing, dragging.
The helpless fury of being too small to fight back. Too alone.
And now?
Now she wasn't weak. She wasn't helpless.
Her gaze fixed on Rhaëlya, and something primal roared within her. Not just desire. Not just love. Possession.
An overwhelming urge to claim. To take and protect and never let go.
"I'll never let you be like I was." She whispered to the statuettes, voice shaking.
"I won't let anyone touch you. Not like they touched me." She wanted to reach out. Wake her. Press their bodies together, intertwine their fates completely.
But she didn't move.
Instead, she folded her legs beneath her and pressed her forehead to the ground, breathing slowly through her rage, through the storm.
She chanted the old verses of her people.
The ones that tamed the sting. But her tail still twitched.
And her gold eyes never left Bloom.
Far from them, yet not far enough, a crack shimmered in the darkness of a different place.
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A tall figure stepped forward, barely noticing the way space warped around his stride.
The forest around him darkened unnaturally, and the mud beneath his feet melted into mist.
Baran's breath slowed.
He hadn't meant to come here. He was tracking something else, some pull, some echo in the abyss that led him through a veil.
But now, as he blinked and the landscape shifted, he realized where he had ended up.
This wasn't a real place. He still hasn't woken up.
But still, the air was wrong. Too thick. Too cold.
And yet… burning.
Then he saw her. A younger Bloom stood in the center of the mist, trembling. She was bloodied and barefoot, her clothes torn, eyes wide as she stared at something only she could see.
Baran's frown deepened, "Bloom?" he called softly.
But she didn't hear him. She couldn't.
The dream had its own rules. Its own chains.
Suddenly, the world around them shifted.
The sky cracked like glass and behind it, black lightning slithered like worms.
The earth turned to ash beneath her feet. Something monstrous howled from beyond the edge of reason.
And the girl, no, the beast that was Bloom, screamed.
Baran stepped back instinctively. Not from fear. From awe.
From recognition.
This was no ordinary dream. This was a memory. A sealed one. Buried in ice and fire and centuries of pain.
And now he was trapped inside it with her.
He snickered while looking at the thing that seemed to be Bloom, but it wasn't. He didn't know what it was, but he knew that little Bloom was inside of it.
Yet he couldn't do anything. Since this was merely a memory, he was feeling...excited. He wanted to know more about the pink eyed female.
And this was the best opportunity.