I needed to get out.

  The air inside the guild felt too thick, like it was pressing against my skin, crawling down my throat. Every creak of the floorboards, every muffled ugh drifting in from the back room scraped across my nerves like a dull bde against bone.

  I’d done what I came here to do.

  That should’ve been it.

  I stepped into the hall, one hand clenched around the slip of parchment, the other clutching my coat like it could hold me together. Just a few more steps. Just the door, the cold, the sting of sea airl. The salt and smoke of the docks would drown everything else out.

  “Hey.”

  Talia’s voice cut through the silence like a thread pulling taut.

  I turned, too fast.

  She was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, her usual smirk missing. There was a thoughtful crease between her brows, something unreadable in her eyes.

  “You alright?”

  “Yeah,” I answered, too quickly. “Fine. Just gotta head out.”

  Her gaze lingered. Sharp, not unkind.

  “You sure?”

  I nodded, stiff, like it would make the truth more believable. My throat was too tight to say more.

  “I’ll be fine,” I managed, this time with more edge than I intended. “I just need to go.”

  “Right,” she said softly, pushing off the wall.

  I turned away.

  But then she said it, the kind of question that seems harmless, simple even, until it finds the exact pce you’ve been trying to hide.

  “Dawn,” she called again, quieter this time. “Are you really okay?”

  I froze.

  People ask that all the time. They don’t mean it. They don’t wait for the answer. But something in her voice hit me like a hand pressed gently to a bruise.

  And I cracked.

  I turned, ready to lie, some sharp retort already forming on my tongue.

  But nothing came out.

  My breath stuttered. My vision blurred.

  I cried.

  Gods.

  I cried like a child in the middle of a godsdamned hallway.

  The weight hit me all at once: Esther’s empty bed. The silence hanging like a noose in our apartment. The cursed whisper curled around the back of my skull, gnawing and waiting. The helplessness. The fear.

  I pressed the heels of my hands against my eyes, trying to stem it, trying to hold myself together. But the dam was already breaking.

  “I don’t know what to do,” I whispered, barely audible, the words tumbling out in a ragged breath. “She’s just gone. And I don’t know how to find her, and I’m so, so scared something happened—”

  Talia didn’t flinch. She stepped forward, slow and careful, like approaching a wounded animal poised to bolt. She didn’t ask anything else.

  She just wrapped her arms around me.

  For a second, I stood frozen.

  Then I clung to her like I was drowning.

  My fingers curled into the fabric of her coat, and the sob that tore from me was raw, broken, and too real. It scraped something deep inside me I didn’t want to look at.

  And I hated it.

  I hated how weak I felt. Hated the shaking in my limbs I couldn’t control. Hated that some small, hollow part of me wanted to stay like this.

  Maybe it was because she reminded me of Esther. Or maybe I was just tired of being strong for everyone but myself.

  Footsteps echoed down the hall.

  I felt them before I saw them, boots against wood, hushed voices tapering off into a silence that felt too loud.

  Irah was the first to appear, his tall frame pausing a few paces away. Behind him, a few other guild members lingered, uncertain and awkward, pretending not to stare.

  I wanted to disappear. To sink through the floor, vanish into the shadows, anything but be seen like this.

  Crying.

  Like a child who’d lost their way.

  Talia gnced over her shoulder. Her eyes narrowed, protective in a way I didn’t expect.

  “Back off,” she said, not unkindly, but firm enough to scatter the gawking.

  Irah stepped closer. “Is she—?”

  “She’ll be fine,” Talia said, gently but with weight. “Just give us a minute, yeah?”

  He hesitated, eyes meeting mine.

  I looked away.

  The others drifted off with murmurs, a few awkwardly shuffling back into the common room. Irah stayed for a moment longer, like he wasn’t sure what to do with his hands or his concern.

  “Should we call Jax?” Talia asked him quietly.

  “He’s out on a job,” Irah replied, voice low. “Left this morning. Might not be back till nightfall.”

  Talia gave a small nod. “Then I’ll take care of her for now.”

  Irah looked at me again. I didn’t meet his gaze.

  He nodded once and turned, leaving us in the quiet.

  Talia exhaled and shifted her arm around my shoulders. “Come on,” she murmured. “Let’s get out of the hallway.”

  She guided me with slow, steady steps, through a side door and into one of the smaller storage rooms. A quiet space with no windows and the smell of old parchment and dried herbs. She closed the door behind us and led me to sit on a worn bench against the far wall.

  I wiped at my face with trembling hands, trying to get my breath under control, trying to force the tears back behind the dam they’d broken through.

  “I’m sorry,” I rasped, my voice hoarse. “Gods, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

  “Don’t,” Talia said softly. She crouched down in front of me, her hands warm on mine. “Don’t apologize.”

  I shook my head, jaw clenched.

  “I shouldn’t be like this,” I muttered. “I’m not a kid. I’m supposed to be strong. I’m supposed to fix this. But I don’t even know where to start.”

  My voice broke again. I hated how raw it sounded.

  “I hate this,” I whispered. “I hate being this helpless. I hate that I can’t do anything. I hate that I’m just sitting here while she could be—”

  I couldn’t say it. Couldn’t finish the sentence.

  Talia’s expression softened, and she reached up to brush a lock of hair from my face, tucking it behind my ear like Esther used to do when I was small.

  “You’re not helpless,” she said gently. “You came here. You asked for help. That’s strength, Dawn. Not everyone can do that.”

  I looked down at my hands, still trembling. I wanted to believe her. But I didn’t.

  Talia sat beside me, her voice quieter now. “Your sister must love you so much.”

  I blinked, startled by the words. “What?”

  “She must,” Talia repeated, smiling just a little. “To make you fight this hard. To make you carry her in your chest like this. That kind of love... it doesn’t just vanish. You’ll find her. I believe that.”

  Something in her voice. So certain and unwavering eased the pressure in my chest.

  Just a little.

  I didn’t respond. Couldn’t. But I leaned into her shoulder, letting the silence settle between us.

  And for a moment, just a moment, I let myself rest.

  “Thank you,” I murmured, the words barely more than breath.

  Talia gnced at me, her brow softening again.

  “And… I’m sorry,” I added quickly, voice cracking at the edges. “For the mess. For crying. For... this.”

  She let out a quiet ugh, shaking her head. “You don’t need to keep apologizing, Dawn. Seriously.”

  I managed the ghost of a smile, weak and wobbly. “Can’t help it.”

  “I noticed,” she teased gently, nudging my shoulder with hers. “But you’re okay. We all crack sometimes. Doesn’t make you weak.”

  I didn’t believe that. Not really. But I nodded anyway.

  A knock sounded lightly against the doorframe before it creaked open. Irah stepped into view, cautious, a shadow behind him stretching in from the hallway. His gaze swept the room until it nded on me, then shifted quickly to Talia, reading the mood.

  “How is she?” he asked quietly.

  Talia stood, brushing imaginary dust from her coat. “She needs a little space,” she said, turning to him with a look that brooked no argument. “Give her a bit longer.”

  Irah hesitated, but after a gnce my way, nodded once and backed out the door without a word.

  Talia lingered, hand on the frame, gncing back at me.

  “If Jax comes back, I’ll tell him you’re—”

  “No,” I said sharply, too quickly. My voice caught on itself. “Don’t.”

  A beat of silence followed.

  Talia peeked back in, one brow raised. “Are you sure?”

  I looked down at the floor, jaw clenched.

  “He doesn’t have to know,” I said, quieter this time. “It’s nothing. I can handle it.”

  “Dawn—”

  “I can.” I swallowed, forcing the words out through the knot in my throat. “It’s my sister. My problem. I don’t want to bother anyone.”

  Talia stared at me for a moment, then gave a soft sigh.

  “You know,” she said, “You don’t have to do everything alone just to prove you’re strong.”

  I didn’t respond. Couldn’t.

  She then offered a small, wry smile. One that didn’t press, didn’t judge.

  “I’ll be right outside. Just breathe, alright? You’ve been carrying too much.”

  I nodded again.

  She stepped out, pulling the door close behind her, but not all the way. Just enough to let me know she hadn’t really gone far.

  And just like that, I was alone.

  The quiet settled like dust in the air.

  My fingers tightened in my p.

  The silence gave me room. Just enough to breathe, to think. To gather the pieces I’d lost somewhere between panic and grief.

  I didn’t need a god or a miracle.

  Just a direction.

  I sat there long after Talia’s footsteps faded from the hall, the scent of parchment and dust clinging to the back of my throat.

  I turned the parchment over in my hands again and again, tracing the inked symbol with trembling fingers.

  It started somewhere.

  Somewhere far older. Far worse.

  The Church.

  Even thinking the word made my stomach knot. The memory of its spires carved against the sky, pale stone towers looming like judgment, returned with such crity I could feel the cold in my bones.

  It had been years since I st saw that pce. Years since I heard those chants echo off the walls, smelled the incense thick with rot, felt the weight of divine eyes pressed into the back of my skull like thorns.

  And years since the tragedy.

  I shut my eyes.

  The pain hadn’t dulled with time. It had only learned how to wear new faces. Quiet ones.

  I hadn’t meant to think of that day again. I buried it deep, beneath yers of survival and silence. But the symbol wouldn’t let me forget.

  Not now.

  If there were any answers to be found… they would be there.

  I rested my elbows on my knees and buried my face in my hands, letting the weight of it all settle across my shoulders. My breath came slow. Careful.

  For hours I sat like that. Thinking. Turning pns over and over in my mind like pieces of broken gss. I sifted through every angle, every route, every possibility. But they all circled the same conclusion like vultures around a corpse.

  I had to go back.

  To the pce I swore I’d never set foot in again.

  To that sacred snare.