Total pages in book: 214
Estimated words: 195876 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 979(@200wpm)___ 784(@250wpm)___ 653(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 195876 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 979(@200wpm)___ 784(@250wpm)___ 653(@300wpm)
"Come on. We can get cleaned up together." His hand finds mine, intertwining our fingers. "Follow me."
"Where are we going?"
"Showers. You waters have the best ones. I use them after hours when nobody's there. They'll be empty at this hour."
My heartbeat races so fast it feels more like one solid, uninterrupted beat by now. Gods, is this really about to happen?
We descend into a dimly lit chamber. Moonlight drifts in through narrow windows, casting silver streaks across the large circular pool in the center. Above it, enchanted clouds hover near the ceiling, permanently drizzling room temperature water into the bathing pools. There are wet footprints on the stone like others were here not long ago, but I see no signs of movement in the pools.
"We're alone," Raith says, his voice echoing slightly in the empty space. He pulls the latch over the door with a half smile. “Just in case.”
“If you’re about to turn into a siphon, I’m going to be super, super pissed with you.”
Raith shakes his head. “Sexy bear.”
“Good,” I say, smirking at the silly passcode.
He moves closer, something in his expression making me forget to breathe. There's a vulnerability there I rarely see—a crack in the careful armor he maintains.
"What is it?" I ask softly.
He moves to the edge of the pool and holds his hand out, palm upward. A small flame dances across his fingers, illuminating his face with a golden glow. A miniature reflection of the flames is mirrored in his eyes as he watches the spell.
"I dream about you," he says suddenly, the flame in his hand flickering higher. "Not just... wanting you. I've been having dreams. Your memories, I think."
My heart stutters. "What?"
"The tether, I assume. He takes a deep breath. "I saw the storm, Nessa. The one that took your father and brothers."
Ice fills my veins, and I step back, nearly stumbling on the slick stone floor. "You saw that?"
Jolts of ugly panic shoot through me.
He knows. He knows what I did. He knows I failed my own family and got them killed. He knows I'm—
"Hey," Raith's voice is soft as he releases his spell to cup my face and shake his head. "I can feel what you're thinking. And no. I felt it. The fear. The rain. The waves crashing against the cliffs. The thunder you couldn't control."
My throat tightens. I feel naked already, more exposed than if I had shed all my clothes.
"You think I'm a monster," I whisper, the words barely audible even to my own ears. I feel the power inside me churning and reaching out into the room. The normally silent clouds above the bathing pool rumble with the low sound of thunder.
Raith's eyes never leave mine. "No," he says, his voice rough with emotion. "I think you were a child who didn't understand her power." He reaches for me, fingers brushing my cheek with unexpected tenderness. "It wasn't your fault, Nessa."
I try to pull away, but he doesn't let me retreat. "You don't know—"
"I saw it all," he insists, his thumb tracing the curve of my cheekbone. "The storm started before you even realized what was happening. You tried to stop it. You did everything you could."
"I could've done more."
"I was in your head, Nessa. I saw it with my own eyes. You swam in those waters for hours. You kept diving for them long after you knew there was no way they were alive. You kept going until you passed out and the waves carried you back to shore. Fuck, Nessa. You did more than most would do. Nobody could blame you."
"My mom and sister did."
The thunder above the pool rumbles again, deep and heavy.
He winces, but resolve hardens his features a moment later. "They didn't see what I saw. It wasn't. Your. Fault. Do you hear me, Nessa? It wasn't your fault. They didn't forgive you? That's their failure."
Something breaks inside me—a dam I've built around my grief and guilt. My eyes burn with tears I've refused to shed for years. "They died because of me. Because I couldn't control it."
"They died because of a storm," he says firmly. "Because of powers you didn't understand and couldn't control. You were a child. Trust me, I know about blame. About living with ghosts. About carrying that weight—wondering if there was more you could've done. Walking yourself through it countless times searching for the one thing you could've changed about that day."
Through our tether, I feel the truth of his words—the understanding, the acceptance. It's overwhelming. But beneath it lies something else, something he's not saying aloud.
"Listen to me, Nessa. Running from ghosts is no way to live. Do it long enough, and you become a ghost yourself. All we have is right now. Here. We can't change the past, but we can use it to find strength. So don't run from your past. Use it. Grow from it. Because I need you to be strong. I can't fucking lose you, too. Losing you… it would fucking ruin me."