“One step in front of the other,” Finn whispers, probably as much to himself as to any of us. His crutches are a bit wonky after the punishment they got punching through glass. But they keep him upright enough.
“We’ll be home soon,” Maddy adds. “We’ll sleep in our own beds tomorrow. My sister is waiting for me, and there’s no one I would love to hate more right now. Your computer is there, Finn, with all the endless codes you’ve written and all the endless worlds you’ve built. Ever, your stories. It’s all only a mountain away. We’ve walked this path before. We can do it again.” By the end of her impromptu speech, her words are slurring with worry and exhaustion setting in, but I appreciate what she tried to do.
And it helped. To some degree, it helped.
Down this mountain, Elle is waiting for me, alone in our too-small shared bed. Dad is still sleeping. At four, he’ll have to get up to go to his first job. Though our house is cold, the kitchen semi-dysfunctional, and often it’s as dark as the cabin was, if I had to choose between them, I wouldn’t trade my home for the world. It’s not perfect, and honestly, the feeling probably won’t last. Whether it’s two days, two weeks, or two months from now, I’ll go back to longing for functioning appliances, warmth when the nights get colder, fewer worries, and plenty of food in the fridge. It’s not romantic to lack those things, though plenty of people with money are enthralled by the idea of poverty. But Elle is there, and that alone is worth immeasurably more than hardwood floors and carpets so thick you can sleep on them.
“I didn’t anticipate the weekend would go like this. That the day would go like this.” My voice is ragged and I pause to breathe between every few words.
Finn leans into me. “I don’t think any of us did, but we’re on our way home now.”
“I wanted this to be good for you.” Apparently, pain and exhaustion destroy my lack of self-control. But it’s okay. I need him to know that. We’re not down the mountain yet, and even if we were…I need him to know that.
“Anything you do is good for me.”
“That makes no sense.”
Finn laughs. Not audibly, but I can feel it in the way he breathes, in the way his chest rises and falls. “I don’t think anything makes sense anymore.”
“Good point.”
We’re silent for a while, though the pine grove around us isn’t. Owls hoot, leaves rustle, and foxes yap. Weirdly, it’s comforting. Actual silence would be too much to bear right now.
Step for step, we make our way through the woods and the foliage becomes less dense. The space between trees opens up into a barren landscape. Above us, the moon shines bright enough to turn humans into werewolves, and every blinking star is a gateway to a magic world.
I glance at Finn every other step. To make sure he’s here. To make sure I’m here.
To finally figure out what I want to say to him—before it’s too late again.
Because even while we make our way down the mountain, I want to do more than walk away from this nightmare. I want to walk toward something. I need to know there is good on the other side of this night.
The castle’s loneliness was charming, at first, before you discovered its secrets. Now you’re simply too far from the magisterium to be at ease.
After the first trap was triggered, all the doors around you seemed to be dangerous. Now, you check for traps as best you can, but your hands are shaking. It’s so much easier to dismantle them when you’re unscathed and convinced nothing will ever harm you. It’s easiest to believe you’re invincible while you still are.
But survival is your strongest skill. You decide the best way to dismantle traps is to force them, with crutches to help you keep a safe distance. You open doors, despite not knowing what lies beyond them, because you have to get through. You face the shadows to get to the light on the other side.
And you’ve done this before. You’ve scouted out locations, tracked your way through dark forests, survived. You plan to survive here.
More than that, you plan to live.
Twenty-Six
Finn
I glance sideways at Ever. I want to hold on to them and never let go. And I know what Damien would say: What are you waiting for, you nerd?
But before I can open my mouth to say anything, they speak up first. Their voice is so quiet, I have to strain to hear what they’re saying.
“I thought I’d lost you.”
Then, “I thought I’d lost us. Before we even had the chance to try to figure out what ‘us’ means. I don’t want there to be so many unspoken words between us. I don’t want there to be secrets between us. When we’re home, when we’re safe and we’ve made sense of it all…” They start. Swallow.
“We will make it out of here,” I offer.
They shake their head. “Before you leave for college, rather…”
“Ever.”
They stop talking.
“You don’t have to try to say any of this right now. We’ll have time.”
“You don’t know that.”
“We’ll make it. We’ll claim it. We’ll carve it out of the universe itself if we have to.” Maybe if I can convince them, I can convince myself too.
They draw in a deep breath. “Don’t let me be afraid.”
I blink.
“I don’t have the words you deserve. Not here. Not now. I don’t know how to share the worst parts of me, because I never have. And maybe that’s why I don’t know how to share the better parts either, but I want to. Don’t let my fear stop me from trying?” They glance at me and glance away again. And all I want to do is take them in my
