safe & sound

the late afternoon light streamed through the high windows of aetherial college, casting golden slants across the polished wooden floors. the scent of old books and rain lingered in the air, mingling with the murmur of students moving through the hallways like slow rivers, their voices echoing in the vaulted ceilings.

sophia laforteza walked a few paces behind her two friends, her arms wrapped tightly around her books as if they alone could steady the strange and growing tempest inside her.

megan skiendiel strode ahead, tall and striking, her long ginger hair tumbling down her back in a fiery cascade. she was speaking animatedly, her hands moving as she relayed some anecdote, her laughter bouncing off the stone walls.

beside her, lara rajagopalan walked with her usual effortless grace, her dark chocolate skin glowing in the dim afternoon light, her crimson-red curls shifting as she turned her head in interest.

but sophia barely heard them.

her mind was elsewhere—somewhere far from the warmth of the school halls, far from the clatter of students and the hum of mundane conversation. a flush crept up her cheeks, an involuntary reaction to the thought that had seized her since morning. the memory of last night still clung to her like a secret whispered against the skin, something dark and forbidden and impossibly alluring.

she would see her again.

the thought alone sent a shiver through her.

a shadowed figure beneath the boughs of the woods, where the world hushed and the air thickened into something ancient, something untouched by time. the glint of deep, unreadable eyes catching the moonlight. the brush of fingers—too cool, too fleeting—against her wrist. the way her name had been spoken, like a spell wrapped in velvet.

her heart quickened.

she had told no one. not megan, with her sharp intuition and endless teasing. not lara, who would fix her with those knowing, perceptive eyes until every secret unraveled. this was hers alone, this thing growing inside her—this trembling anticipation, this restless yearning.

"—isn't that right, sophia?"

megan's voice cut through her thoughts like a blade, and she nearly stumbled. blinking rapidly, she looked up to find both of her friends staring at her. megan's brows were raised, her expression hovering between amusement and curiosity, while lara regarded her with quieter concern, her dark eyes scanning her face as though reading the words written there.

sophia straightened, tightening her grip on her books. "what?" she said quickly, the warmth in her cheeks deepening.

megan narrowed her eyes, a smirk playing at the corner of her lips. "are you fine? you look like you just got caught thinking about something very, very scandalous."

"i wasn't." sophia protested, too quickly, too forcefully.

lara tilted her head. "you've been quiet all day," she said, softer than megan but no less inquisitive. "and you keep drifting off. is everything okay?"

sophia swallowed. the weight of their attention was suddenly too much, like hands pressing against the edges of something fragile inside her. she forced a smile, shaking her head. "really, i'm just tired. that's all."

megan hummed, unconvinced, but let it go. "well, whatever it is, you should get some rest," she said, tossing her hair back. "you look like you're about to swoon like some tragic poet."

sophia laughed, a little too forced.

the halls stretched on, their footsteps echoing in the vast, cathedral-like silence. outside, the sky was beginning to dim, the promise of twilight unfurling slowly at the edges of the world. and somewhere beyond these walls, beyond the safe, ordinary life she had always known, something—someone—was waiting for her.

she could feel it in her bones.

the scent of sun-warmed stone and distant rain lingered in the air as sophia, megan, and lara stepped out of the school's great arched doors, the summer wind stirring their hair and tugging at the loose hems of their skirts.

the sky had begun its slow descent into twilight, bruised hues of purple and orange smearing across the horizon, the heat of the afternoon yielding to something softer, something more forgiving.

sophia adjusted her grip on her books, the leather bindings warm against her fingers, but her mind was far from the idle conversation weaving between her friends.

she had not stopped thinking about it.

the moment hung before her like a silver thread in the air, delicate yet unbreakable. it pulled at her, drawing her away from this place, from the well-lit hallways and the laughter of familiar voices. it whispered in the back of her mind, a promise, an invitation—one she could not refuse.

she would see her again.

a thrill coursed through her veins at the thought, subtle but undeniable, curling in the pit of her stomach like a half-formed dream. her fingers trembled slightly against the spines of her books. if she listened closely, she could almost hear that voice again, low and silken, threading through the night like an echo of something ancient.

but then—

"sophia."

megan's voice snapped her back into the moment like a taut thread snapping. she blinked, turning to find both megan and lara looking at her, their gazes sharper this time, no longer simply amused but keenly observant.

"you're doing it again." megan said, narrowing her eyes.

lara folded her arms, tilting her head as she studied sophia. "you sure you're okay?" she asked, her voice quieter but no less probing.

"i—" sophia hesitated, her pulse quickening. she had thought she'd covered her distraction well enough, but they knew her too well.

megan's smirk returned, but there was something sharper beneath it now, something edged with genuine curiosity. "what's going on? you look like you're keeping some delicious secret."

sophia's grip tightened around her books. a secret.

she forced a breath, then smiled—too quick, too rehearsed. "i'm fine," she said, summoning the lightest tone she could manage. "just... tired, really. you know, long day."

lara didn't look convinced. megan, however, rolled her eyes. "if you say so. anyway—" she spun on her heel, tossing her coppery hair over one shoulder as they stepped further down the stone steps leading to the main courtyard. "we're heading to yoonchae's place tonight. dani's coming too, sleepover."

lara nodded, a slow, deliberate movement. "it's the start of summer break, after all." she nudged sophia gently. "you should come."

sophia's stomach twisted, not with reluctance but with something deeper, something she couldn't quite name. she stopped in her tracks, looking between them, and then—instinctively—her gaze flickered downward to her wrist.

the watch glinted in the fading light.

the hands moved steadily forward, each second pulling her closer to the moment she had been waiting for all day.

her breath hitched.

it was time.

a strange sort of anticipation coiled in her chest, something equal parts exhilaration and trepidation. she could almost feel the pull of the evening air, the hush of the forest calling her name.

megan and lara were still watching her. she had paused too long.

"what?" megan asked, suspicion flickering across her face.

sophia's heart stammered.

"i—" she started, but the words caught in her throat. she could feel the weight of their gazes, the unspoken questions pressing against her skin.

think.

"i have to—" she swallowed, forcing a quick, nervous smile. "i have to run some errands."

megan and lara exchanged a glance.

"errands?" lara repeated, raising an eyebrow.

megan crossed her arms. "sophia. it's summer break. what kind of errands could possibly be that urgent?"

sophia floundered, her mind racing. "just... just a few things i forgot to do. i swear, it's nothing exciting."

lara's eyes narrowed slightly, but her expression remained more curious than suspicious. "you're acting weird."

megan huffed a sigh. "you're always weird, but this is another level," she said. "you sure you don't want to come? yoonchae's got that ridiculous collection of horror movies you love."

sophia hesitated, just for a second. she wanted to say yes—wanted to say that a night spent in the company of her closest friends, in the safe glow of yoonchae's living room, wrapped in laughter and the warmth of familiarity, sounded like exactly what she needed.

but it wasn't.

she could feel it, in the way her pulse thrummed beneath her skin, in the way the air felt heavier, expectant.

"i'll catch you guys tomorrow," she said, stepping backward, putting distance between them. "promise."

megan's brow furrowed. "sophia—"

but before they could press further, before she could give them any more reason to question her, she turned.

she skipped down the last of the steps, her pace quickening, her heart pounding. the air felt cooler now, tinged with something electric, something waiting.

"tomorrow!" she called over her shoulder, lifting a hand in a quick wave before she disappeared into the evening.

megan and lara stood frozen in place, watching her go.

"okay?" megan muttered, still frowning.

lara sighed, shaking her head. "classic sophie." she murmured, eyes still following the fading silhouette of their friend as she vanished into the twilight.

___

the city had faded behind her, its murmuring streets and golden-lit windows swallowed by the horizon. now, only the road stretched ahead—long, quiet, endless. the last remnants of the day clung to the sky in deep hues of violet and ember, the air crisp with the whisper of coming winter.

sophia walked with careful strides along the roadside, her boots scuffing against the damp gravel. the wind carried the scent of earth and dying leaves, a gentle reminder that autumn was waning, that soon the trees would stand bare, their skeletal branches reaching toward a sky of frost.

she pulled her sweater tighter around her, her fingers curling over the worn fabric, seeking warmth. her breath unfurled in soft clouds before her, vanishing into the twilight. the cold nipped at her exposed skin, but she didn't mind—not when she was this close.

her steps slowed as she took in the world around her. the city, with all its noise and restless energy, was nothing more than a distant hum now. here, on the edge of the countryside, silence stretched wide, wrapping around her like an unseen presence. the road was lined with towering trees, their thinning canopies trembling in the wind, shedding brittle leaves that swirled and danced before settling onto the cracked pavement. the forest loomed beyond them, dark and endless, a secret unto itself.

her heart thrummed, steady but eager.

she was nearly there.

she had taken this path before, had traced these very footsteps on nights when the sky was clear and full of stars. it had always been the same feeling—this quiet, inexplicable pull, this certainty that beyond the threshold of trees, something was waiting for her.

and she wanted to be found.

the highway stretched ahead in silver ribbons of asphalt, flanked by wild grass and twisting roots that crept towards the road like grasping fingers. the wind whistled through the branches, carrying whispers too soft to understand. but sophia didn't need to. she understood in the way that instinct understands hunger, in the way the moon understands the tides.

she was meant to be here.

and then—

her steps faltered, her breath catching.

there it was.

her checkpoint.

two towering trees stood side by side at the forest's edge, their gnarled trunks stretching toward the sky, their branches intertwining as if whispering secrets to one another. between them lay a narrow gap, a space just wide enough for a person to pass through. a threshold. a passageway.

sophia's pulse quickened, anticipation coiling in her chest like a secret held too long.

she had always thought there was something strange about these trees, something otherworldly. no matter the season, they stood unwavering, their roots bound to the earth as though they had been planted with intention, as though they were waiting.

a faint smile played on her lips.

she knew where this led.

she clutched her books closer to her chest, steadying the shiver that ran through her—not from the cold, but from something deeper, something she couldn't quite name.

she took a step forward.

then another.

the city was gone now, lost beyond the curve of the road, beyond the veil of trees. here, the world was different. here, the rules unraveled, the edges of reality softened.

here, she was no longer just sophia laforteza, college student, daughter, friend.

here, she was something else entirely.

she slipped between the trees, leaving behind the last slivers of the ordinary world.

and as she did, she smiled.

because she knew—somewhere beyond the shadows, beyond the hush of the forest—someone was waiting for her.

the quiet in the forest was unlike any other. it was not the absence of sound but the presence of something deeper, something watchful. it pressed against sophia's skin, filled the spaces between her breaths. most people would have found it unsettling—this silence so profound it swallowed everything whole, muting the usual chorus of rustling creatures, the distant hoot of an owl, the sharp chittering of unseen things in the underbrush.

but to sophia, it was familiar. welcome.

the deeper she walked, the further she left behind the world she knew—the city's endless hum, the glowing streetlights flickering to life as evening settled, the laughter of megan and lara echoing in her ears like a memory already fading. out here, the world was different. the air was colder, heavier. the trees, dark and towering, loomed above her, their skeletal branches stretching toward the deepening twilight like fingers reaching for something just out of grasp. the wind wove through them in slow, deliberate sighs, carrying the crisp scent of damp bark and dying leaves, of something older than time itself.

beneath her boots, the forest floor was a thick, golden carpet of fallen leaves, their edges curled and brittle. they masked the earth beneath, softening her steps so that the only sound she made was a faint, rhythmic crunch. it felt like walking across a threshold, like stepping into a place untouched by the hands of men, a place that belonged to something else entirely.

sophia clutched her books closer to her chest, pressing their weight against her as if to ground herself.

she could feel it now.

the anticipation, the slow build of something just out of reach, something waiting for her just beyond sight. her pulse quickened in response, a steady thrum against her ribs, but she did not stop walking. if anything, her pace quickened, her breath hitching slightly as excitement coiled in her stomach.

her eyes flickered over the shadows stretching between the trees.

looking.

searching.

a smile tugged at the corner of her lips, slow and secret.

she knew she wasn't alone.

even if, for now, she appeared to be.

the air was sharper now, the cold more pronounced. a breeze curled around her, slipping beneath her sweater and brushing over her skin like a phantom's touch. she shivered, but not from fear. the cold was a quiet reminder of the changing seasons, of the inevitable shift of time, but it did not unnerve her.

she let out a slow breath, watching as it formed a delicate wisp of smoke in the air before dissolving into nothing.

"it's getting colder." she murmured.

the words drifted into the open space, soft and unobtrusive, absorbed by the hush of the trees. there was no immediate response—no shift, no whisper back—but she knew better than to expect one. not yet.

sophia continued forward, her steps careful as she navigated the uneven terrain. the roots here were larger, protruding from the earth like gnarled bones, tangled in ways that made the ground treacherous. she reached one particularly large root, thick and twisted, its surface rough beneath her fingers as she steadied herself.

climbing over it took more effort than expected. her foot slipped slightly as she swung her leg to the other side, her boot scraping against the damp bark before she landed ungracefully on the soft earth below. a breathless laugh escaped her lips, light and unguarded, as she straightened. she brushed a stray strand of hair from her face, adjusting her grip on her books.

and then—

"do you ever feel cold?"

the question left her lips without thought, quiet but deliberate. it hung in the space between her and the trees, a thread of sound barely strong enough to disturb the hush around her.

she listened.

waited.

the forest did not answer. not in words, at least.

not a noise, not a break in the silence—just a shift, subtle as the wind changing direction. it prickled at the edge of her senses, just enough to send a shiver rolling down her spine.

she exhaled again, watching as another cloud of smoke curled from her lips into the twilight air. this time, she smiled as she watched it disappear.

"if winter comes," she said, her voice softer now, almost wistful, "i won't be able to come here again."

the truth of it settled heavily in her chest.

winter would bring snow, would bury the roads in ice, would make the nights far too dangerous for wandering through the woods. the cold would keep her inside, away from this place, away from the silence that knew her name.

away from—

sophia swallowed, pulling her sweater tighter around herself.

she wasn't ready to think about that.

not yet.

the wind sighed through the trees again, rustling the last of the autumn leaves still clinging to their branches. a handful of them drifted down around her, spiraling gently to the ground like golden fragments of something forgotten.

she bent down, running her fingers lightly over one of them where it lay against the earth. the edges were crisp, the color a brilliant amber that would soon fade to brown.

seasons always changed.

but some things—

some things felt eternal.

she straightened, shifting her books in her arms, and looked up.

the forest watched.

and somewhere—just beyond the reach of sight, just beyond the hush of the trees—something waited.

the trees stretched endlessly around her, their towering silhouettes dark against the dimming sky. the forest, though quiet, was not lifeless—there was something beneath the hush, something lingering in the spaces between the shadows, in the way the air itself seemed to hum with expectation.

sophia walked through it as if she belonged, her steps unhurried, her breath steady despite the cold that curled around her. her sweater did little to keep the chill at bay, but she didn't care. the sting of the air against her skin, the damp earth beneath her boots, the way the wind carried whispers through the skeletal branches—all of it was a kind of welcome. a kind of invitation.

and then—

she saw it.

the abandoned well stood in a small clearing, half-hidden by creeping vines and fallen leaves, its stone surface worn and cracked with age. the roof that once sheltered it had long since collapsed, leaving behind only skeletal beams that reached toward the sky like the ribs of some forgotten beast. time had claimed it, nature had wrapped around it, but even now, even in its ruin, it stood steadfast.

she stopped a few meters away, gazing at it in silence.

for a long moment, she only looked.

the well had always been here, waiting, just as everything in this forest seemed to. as if it were frozen outside of time, untouched by the world beyond the trees.

sophia smiled, slow and secret.

she glanced around, taking in the familiar stretch of the clearing, the way the last embers of daylight filtered through the thinning canopy above. then, with a quiet exhale, she knelt down, slipping her backpack from her shoulders. she placed it carefully on the ground, unzipped it, and tucked her books inside one by one. their weight settled against the fabric, safe, hidden away from the creeping chill.

when she stood again, she sighed, a soft, misty breath curling into the cold air.

she slipped her hands into the pockets of her jeans, seeking warmth. the denim was cold against her skin, but she didn't mind. the cold reminded her that she was here, now, in this moment, in this place where the world felt thinner, where reality wavered just enough to let something else slip through.

and then, just as naturally as breathing, she spoke.

"did you miss me?"

the words hung in the clearing, soft and unguarded, dissolving into the quiet like ripples in still water.

silence.

just the whisper of wind threading through the trees, the distant rustle of leaves shifting against the earth.

she had not expected a response.

and yet, she smiled.

she turned her head slightly, glancing toward the trees, toward the deepening twilight where the forest stretched endlessly beyond sight. the silence pressed in around her, watchful, waiting.

sophia only hummed, as if the quiet itself had given her an answer.

she stepped forward, leaving her backpack where it lay. her steps were slow, deliberate, as she approached the well. the air here felt different—cooler, heavier, charged with something unseen.

when she reached the well, she leaned against it, pressing her back to the rough stone.

a shiver ran through her at the sudden chill, but she did not move away.

instead, she closed her eyes.

for a moment, she only stood there, breathing in the scent of damp stone and autumn leaves, letting the cold settle into her bones. the air stirred around her, threading through her long raven hair, lifting it gently before letting it fall in soft waves against her back. she tilted her head slightly, the ghost of a smile still playing at her lips, and listened.

the wind sighed.

the trees whispered.

the well stood silent beneath her touch.

sophia exhaled.

she had never truly been alone here.

and she knew—she would not be alone for long.

and then.

the sound had been swift. a sharp rustle, a fleeting shift in the hush of the forest, so fast that if sophia had not been waiting—listening—she might have dismissed it as nothing more than the restless stirring of the wind. but she knew better.

she always knew better.

her dark eyes fluttered open, the serenity of the moment slipping away as awareness settled deep in her bones. and then, she smiled. it was not a startled smile, not one of surprise or confusion. it was knowing, as though she had been expecting this, as though she had wanted this. this time, her teeth glinted faintly against the dimming light, a flicker of white amidst the deep colors of the coming night.

"is that a yes?" she murmured, her voice barely more than a breath.

the hush of the forest settled once more, thick and unmoving, like something draped over the world, pressing against her skin with invisible fingers. the trees stretched endlessly around her, their skeletal branches reaching into the fading twilight, their shadows shifting subtly as if something moved between them. yet, when she looked, she saw nothing.

the clearing remained unchanged—empty in its quiet, still in its solitude. but sophia was not fooled.

the silence was an answer.

it was a presence, unseen yet undeniable, filling the spaces between heartbeats, between breaths. she could feel it lingering just beyond her vision, just past the threshold of what could be perceived. it was watching, waiting, the same way it always had.

a soft exhale slipped past her lips, curling into the crisp autumn air like a whisper. her smile lingered, but her gaze drifted downward, settling on her backpack, which still rested on the forest floor where she had left it. the sight of it felt strangely grounding, a tether to the mundane world beyond these trees, beyond this moment.

for a long time, she only looked at it.

and then, as if drawn by something unseen, her gaze shifted once more.

her hands, which had been tucked in the warmth of her pockets, slowly withdrew. a chill bit at her fingertips, the evening air seeping into her skin, but she did not flinch. instead, her fingers grazed the edge of the well behind her, feeling the rough texture of the weather-worn stone. it was uneven beneath her touch, crumbling in places, as if time itself had tried to claim it, yet it still stood—silent, waiting.

a slow breath filled her lungs.

and then, without hesitation, she turned.

sophia pivoted until she faced the well fully, aligning herself with its gaping mouth, the vast hollow that stretched downward into darkness. her pulse thrummed steadily in her throat, but not with fear. she had seen this well many times before, had stood at its edge just like this, but tonight, the darkness inside it seemed different.

it was deep.

deeper than she remembered.

her eyes narrowed slightly, adjusting to the dim light, but even then, she could barely make out the bottom.

the well yawned beneath her, a chasm of silence and shadow, stretching deep into the earth, deeper than reason, deeper than should have been possible. at its base, where the last fragile hints of light barely reached, she could see the remnants of autumn—the brittle skeletons of fallen leaves gathered in uneven piles, their colors dulled by the dimness below. among them, she could make out discarded objects: a crumpled paper, a shattered bottle, remnants of those who had once wandered this way and left pieces of themselves behind.

yet, there was no water.

there had never been.

she had never once heard the telltale sound of dripping, never heard the echoing ripple of liquid against stone. wells were meant to hold something, meant to serve a purpose, yet this one was nothing but depth—empty, endless.

the longer she looked, the stranger it felt.

the shadows at the bottom were not merely dark; they were thick, almost tangible. they did not feel like mere absence of light, but something more, something that watched, something that breathed. the depth of it was unnatural, almost unreal, as though it did not simply reach downward, but instead led somewhere else.

a thought flickered through her mind, unbidden.

how far does it go?

her breath hitched slightly in her throat.

she had peered down before, of course. many times. but now, in the hush of twilight, with the cold pressing against her skin and the presence just beyond her vision lingering too close, the well did not feel like just a well.

it felt like a threshold.

a doorway.

a passage to something she could not see but knew was there.

sophia swallowed.

a sudden gust of wind slithered through the trees, sending a fresh cascade of leaves tumbling through the air. the cold bit deeper now, settling into her bones, but still, she did not move. her fingers curled slightly against the stone, pressing into its chill, grounding herself in the sensation of something real, something solid.

she let out a slow exhale, watching as her breath spiraled downward, a brief, misty wisp vanishing into the abyss below.

something about that made her chest tighten.

it felt wrong, in a way she could not name.

she had spent so much time here, lingering at the well's edge, speaking into the silence, waiting for something unseen to respond. yet, she had never truly acknowledged how deep it was, how unnatural it seemed beneath the surface.

or perhaps, she had never wanted to.

a shiver ghosted over her skin, though she was not sure if it was from the cold or something else entirely.

still, she did not step back.

instead, she lifted her head, her long raven hair catching the faint light as the wind brushed it back. her gaze drifted away from the well, away from the shadows within it, returning to the woods, to the trees that framed this clearing, to the spaces between them where something unseen lived.

her lips curved once more, slow and knowing, though this time, the smile was softer.

she was not alone.

not really.

and she never would be.

sophia's lips curled into a slow, thoughtful smile, the kind that came not from amusement but from the quiet birth of an idea. it was a small thing at first, just a flicker of expression, barely noticeable. but then it grew—spreading across her lips, reaching her dark eyes, touching something deep within her that had been waiting, longing, for this exact moment.

she turned her gaze outward once more, taking in the empty clearing, the stillness of the forest, the hush of twilight settling over the earth like a held breath. the trees, their branches bare and skeletal in the waning light, stood as silent sentinels around her, watching with an ancient patience. there was no wind now, no rustling of leaves, only the steady rhythm of her own heartbeat and the deep, endless silence of the well at her back.

her fingers twitched slightly in the depths of her pockets, but she did not remove them.

instead, she took one last, slow inhale—filling her lungs with the crisp autumn air, feeling the bite of the cold settle into her bones. she held that breath for a moment, savoring the weight of it, the way it made her chest expand, the way it grounded her in the present.

and then, with quiet certainty—

she closed her eyes.

the world behind her eyelids was dark and infinite.

her other senses sharpened immediately.

she felt the solid earth beneath her boots, the rough texture of the stone well pressing against the small of her back. she heard the faintest crackle of leaves shifting somewhere in the distance, the distant echo of a bird calling out once before the hush swallowed it whole. she could almost hear her own heartbeat, steady but quickening, anticipation curling in the spaces between each beat.

then, with deliberate slowness, she began to lean back.

it was subtle at first.

a gradual shift of weight.

she tilted just enough for gravity to stir beneath her, to remind her of its presence, to make her hyper-aware of how close she was to surrendering completely. the stone beneath her pressed harder against her back, biting through the fabric of her sweater, cold and unyielding.

but she did not stop.

she leaned further.

the air seemed to grow heavier, the silence more profound, as if the world itself was holding still to watch.

the moment stretched, elongated, the last sliver of control lingering at the very edge of her awareness. she was right there, on the precipice between safety and the unknown, between the tangible and the inevitable.

and then—

she let go.

she tipped past the point of return.

the stone well vanished beneath her.

for a single, fleeting heartbeat, she hovered—caught in that strange liminal space between standing and falling, between something and nothing.

then, all at once—

she plummeted.

the air rushed up to meet her, wrapping around her in a cold embrace, pulling at her hair, slipping through the fabric of her clothes, stealing the warmth from her skin. the walls of the well blurred past her in a whirl of motion, rough stone vanishing into streaks of shadow as she descended.

the world above disappeared.

the sky, the trees, the last remnants of daylight—they were gone in an instant, swallowed by the deep, gaping mouth of the well.

she was falling.

faster.

deeper.

farther than she should have been.

the well was endless, deeper than it had ever appeared, stretching far beyond reason. the bottom, if it even existed, was unseen, hidden within the swallowing dark.

but still—

she did not scream.

she did not flail.

her hands remained tucked in her pockets, fingers curled loosely, her body relaxed, as if she had merely allowed herself to be carried by the wind rather than dragged by gravity.

because she was not afraid.

she should have been.

the logical part of her mind knew this.

she should have been terrified of the impact that would surely come, of the sharp, inevitable pain of striking the unseen ground below. she should have feared the dark, the way it devoured all light, the way it stretched impossibly deep, the way it felt alive.

but she wasn't.

because she trusted.

not herself.

not the fall.

but something else.

someone else.

the darkness curled around her, endless and silent.

she surrendered to it.

she closed her eyes again, her lips still curled in the faintest echo of a smile.

and she waited.

the fall was endless.

sophia had surrendered to it without hesitation, without fear, without even the instinct to reach for something—anything—that might slow her descent. she had stepped beyond the edge and let herself go, let the weight of her body succumb to the pull of gravity, let the unknown take her in its cold embrace.

there was no panic. no last-second regret. only certainty. only trust. only the exhilarating, breath-stealing sensation of weightlessness as the world above shrank into nothingness.

darkness swallowed everything.

the wind howled around her, rushing past her ears in a violent whisper, tangling her hair, slipping through the weave of her sweater like ghostly fingers. it stole the warmth from her skin, replaced it with something sharper, something deeper. cold. not the crisp autumn chill that clung to the earth above, not the temporary sting of evening air brushing exposed flesh. this cold was different. ancient. unnatural. it did not simply touch her—it invaded, sinking into her bones, curling into the hollow spaces of her body, seeping into the very breath she exhaled.

still, sophia did not fear it.

she had done this before.

she knew what waited for her in the dark.

the abyss stretched infinitely below, impossibly vast, impossibly silent. no bottom. no ground. no end to the descent. the deeper she fell, the further the world above faded into something distant, something unreal. the sky, the trees, the forest—they no longer existed. there was only the void. only the sensation of surrender.

and then—

a touch.

cold.

fingers wrapped around her wrist with effortless precision, halting her fall in an instant.

the contrast was immediate. sophia's skin, still flushed with warmth, burned against the frozen grip that held her. there was no hesitation, no struggle, no uncertainty in that grasp. it was steady, unyielding, as if the very concept of letting her slip away was unfathomable.

sophia did not need to open her eyes to know who had caught her.

a slow, knowing smile curled her lips.

and then—movement.

the shift was so sudden, so impossibly fluid, that it did not feel like motion at all. one moment, she was plunging through endless darkness, weightless and untethered. the next, she was ascending, pulled upward with a speed and force that should not have been possible.

the abyss released her.

the air around her changed, no longer thick with the oppressive silence of the void but crisp with the scent of damp leaves, of pine and earth. the sounds of the forest returned, whispering through the night like an echo of something familiar, something real. wind played at her hair once more, carrying with it the bite of autumn.

and beneath her—

arms.

holding her.

sophia felt them before she fully registered what had happened. a steady grip beneath the bend of her knees, another wrapped securely around her back, as if she were something fragile, something precious.

she was not simply caught.

she was held.

effortlessly.

the embrace was cool, the chill of it seeping through her clothes, pressing into the heat of her own body. but it was not the cold of winter air, not the fleeting sting of ice against skin. this was something else. something permanent. something unchanging.

something dead.

and yet—

sophia did not shiver.

she did not recoil from it.

instead, she settled into it.

she let the frozen grip pull her closer, let herself sink into that unnatural embrace, let the cold press into the warmth of her own existence. there was no fear, no resistance—only something unspoken, something vast, something that had been there from the very beginning.

slowly, deliberately, she opened her eyes.

and there—

hazel brown eyes stared back at her.

but they were wrong.

not in color—the color was warm, rich, deep as honey caught in candlelight, as autumn leaves just before the wind stole them from the branches. but there was no warmth in them. no flicker of life. no reflection of the world around them.

they were empty.

hollow.

soulless.

the eyes of something other.

something that should not be.

something that did not belong in the world of the living.

and yet—

sophia's breath caught, not from fear, not from unease, but from something else entirely.

because to her, they were beautiful.

manon was beautiful.

the moonlight carved shadows across her face, accentuating the sharp angles of her cheekbones, the elegant slope of her nose, the fullness of lips that had just parted—as if she had exhaled, as if she had spoken—but she hadn't. not yet. her braids, tied high in a long ponytail, shifted with the breeze, catching the silver glow of the night, swaying like silk against her shoulders.

her expression was unreadable.

too still.

too composed.

as if the moment meant nothing to her.

as if catching sophia from a fall that should have shattered her was as simple, as natural, as inevitable as breathing—except, of course, manon did not breathe.

sophia did.

her own breath was shallow, her chest rising and falling against the stillness of the body holding her.

warmth against cold.

life against death.

for a moment, neither of them spoke.

the silence between them was thick, stretched taut, heavy with things neither dared to say.

and then—

manon's lips curved.

just slightly.

a smirk that barely existed, that lingered at the edges of her mouth, that carried something unreadable, something ancient.

then, in that voice—low, smooth, dark as the night itself, soft as the whisper of something inevitable—she spoke.

"got you."

the words sent a shiver through sophia, not from the cold, not from the unnatural chill of manon's touch, but from something deeper.

something darker.

something that curled beneath her ribs, that settled in her bones, that whispered in her very blood.

her pulse thrummed, rapid and warm, a stark contrast to the frozen stillness of the one who held her.

she could only look at her.

at the hollow warmth of those eyes.

at the impossible beauty of something that should not be beautiful.

at the unnatural contrast of warmth and cold pressed so intimately together.

and then—

she smiled.

as if she understood something the rest of the world never could.

of course manon got her.

she always did.

manon lowered her with care—slow, deliberate, as if she were something fragile, something that could break if mishandled. but there was nothing fragile about the way her cold fingers lingered for a second too long against sophia's waist, pressing just slightly into the fabric of her sweatshirt, nor in the way her smirk curled at the edges, teasing, daring. it told an entirely different story.

a playful one.

the solid earth welcomed sophia's weight once more, her boots touching down with a quiet finality. and yet, she did not step back. she did not move away.

because she did not want to.

instead, she looked up at the one who had caught her—the one who had plucked her effortlessly from the hands of gravity as if such a feat required no thought, no effort, no strain. manon stood there, tall, poised, her presence as vast and unshaken as the night itself. the faint silver glow of the moon traced the sharp edges of her face, illuminating the rich darkness of her skin, the high, sculpted curve of her cheekbones, the fullness of her lips—

and the glint of something sharp beneath them.

fangs.

they caught the light as she smirked, subtle yet undeniable, a whisper of something unnatural, something monstrous.

something that should have sent a tremor of unease crawling down sophia's spine.

but it didn't.

if anything, it only made her heart race faster.

there was nothing unsettling about manon to her.

nothing repelling.

nothing frightening.

if anything, it was the opposite.

it should have been unnerving—the gleam of sharp teeth behind a knowing smile, the constant, inescapable reminder of what exactly manon was. but to sophia, it was... well.

it was intoxicating.

terribly so.

she could never quite explain why, nor had she ever tried to. perhaps it was the mystery of it all—the way manon existed outside of the rules of the living, outside of time, outside of warmth. or maybe it was the way she moved, like a shadow that had never known the burden of weight, of effort. the way she looked at sophia—so knowing, so unreadable, so effortlessly still.

whatever it was, sophia knew only one thing for certain:

she was very fond of this creature.

this cold blooded beast.

manon's smirk deepened, as if she could hear the thoughts swirling inside sophia's head, as if she knew the exact nature of the effect she had on her. and maybe she did. maybe she had always known.

the thought made sophia's stomach tighten, but she quickly swallowed it down, forcing herself to regain some semblance of composure.

her lips curled into a soft smile, eyes twinkling in the moonlight, never once leaving manon's. despite the cold creeping into her fingertips, despite the night air licking at the exposed skin of her neck, she felt warm.

joy.

though a flicker of guilt surfaced at the edges of that warmth.

she had ditched her friends.

lara and megan were probably still at yoonchae's, wondering why she had been so eager to leave, why she had been so distracted all day, why she had refused their invitation so quickly. she had promised to meet them tomorrow, but even so, she couldn't shake the slight sting of betrayal.

and yet...

the moment she looked at manon again, the moment she saw those sharp, knowing eyes drinking her in, that guilt faded to something distant. something unimportant.

because she wanted to be here.

with her.

manon's gaze flickered over sophia's figure, her smirk softening into something more thoughtful. then, after a beat of silence, she spoke.

her voice—

low.

smooth.

dark.

the kind of voice that did not need to be raised to be felt, the kind that slipped beneath the skin, threaded through the bones, made itself known in the marrow of one's being.

and as always, it sent a shiver through sophia that had nothing to do with the cold.

"you should dress warmer."

her words were simple, casual even, but the way she said them—the way she said them—made sophia's breath hitch.

sophia blinked, caught off guard, before glancing down at herself.

sweatshirt. jeans. boots.

it wasn't as if she hadn't realized it was getting colder, but the excitement of the night, of seeing her, had driven away any real concern for the approaching winter chill.

before she could respond, manon moved.

circling her.

hands tucked into the pockets of her denim jacket, her strides easy, measured.

predatory.

sophia stood still, heart thrumming against her ribs, her gaze following her as best as she could.

but there was something different in the way manon moved tonight.

something deliberate.

calculated.

like she was playing.

sophia's lips parted slightly, but she did not speak.

she only followed, her body remaining in place, her head turning as manon circled her—until suddenly, just as she passed behind her, the presence vanished.

sophia blinked.

she turned and manon was gone.

her breath caught in her throat, her body tensing, her pulse quickening in something that was not quite fear, not quite unease, but something else.

the space behind her was empty.

the woods stretched, vast and untouched, nothing but endless shadows and rustling leaves. no trace of manon remained.

it was as if she had never been there at all.

sophia chuckled softly, breathless, tilting her head slightly as her eyes scanned the trees.

her heartbeat pounded, not from fear, but from something far sweeter, far sharper.

she felt it.

the way the night had stilled in certain pockets, the way the air felt heavier in some places, the way her own pulse knew—

manon was watching her.

hiding in the spaces between the trees, in the folds of the darkness, waiting.

the predator had disappeared into the shadows, but she had not left.

she never left.

sophia exhaled slowly, a smile tugging at her lips as she took a single step forward, her boots crunching against the crisp leaves below.

her eyes flickered through the trees, searching, waiting, wanting.

"now, where did you go?" she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper, playful, knowing.

the forest held its breath.

the wind, which had been whispering through the trees moments ago, had gone still, as if it, too, had become an unwilling participant in this silent exchange. the hush was unnatural—thick, heavy, as though the world had folded in on itself, waiting for something unseen to stir. even the distant rustle of leaves, the creak of ancient branches swaying against one another, had faded into an eerie, expectant quiet.

and then, like a ripple in the dark, a voice cut through the silence.

low.

smooth.

a dark melody that curled around the edges of the night, threading itself through the leaves, through the trees, through her.

"you have the whole summer to yourself."

the words did not come from any one direction. they seemed to belong to the shadows themselves, slipping effortlessly between the spaces of the forest, unbound by distance or form. they moved like breath against the back of her neck, an invisible presence that sent a slow, deliberate shiver down her spine.

"and yet." the voice continued, slow and unhurried, carrying the weight of something half-amused, half-accusatory, "you choose to spend it here. in the woods. alone."

sophia's lips curled slightly, her amusement barely concealed. the warmth of her breath billowed into the cold air, dissolving into the quiet as she lowered her gaze, staring down at the earth beneath her boots.

she could feel it again, the presence of unshakable awareness of being watched.

it pressed against the edges of her senses, coiling around her like unseen fingers tracing over her skin, leaving something electric in its wake. the forest had not felt empty since she arrived. even before the voice had spoken, she had known she was not alone.

a flutter of something deep and aching stirred in her chest.

she wanted to see her.

she wanted to lift her gaze and have those sharp, knowing eyes waiting for her, to close the space between them, to press her fingertips against skin that would always be too cold. she wanted to break the silence, to speak manon's name, to pull her from the shadows and into the fragile moonlight where she could truly see her.

she wanted.

but instead, she played along.

she always did.

a soft chuckle left her lips, low and teasing, her breath rising in pale wisps against the night air. she tilted her head, arms crossing loosely over her chest, adopting a posture of careless ease. as if she were unbothered. as if she were not waiting for something, for someone.

"i needed some fresh air." she murmured finally, her voice light, playful—a half-truth wrapped in easy words.

her gaze lifted—not toward any single place, but toward the darkness itself, searching.

waiting.

she knew better than to expect an answer.

sophia shifted slightly, the leaves beneath her boots crunching softly. the sound was startling against the silence, and for a brief moment, she felt as though the entire world was listening, waiting for the next move.

a cool breeze wove through the trees, lifting strands of her raven-black hair, but it was not enough to send a shiver through her.

the feeling of being watched did not fade.

if anything, it deepened.

a normal person would have been afraid. a normal person would have felt the weight of something unnatural pressing against the edges of their awareness and called it a warning.

but sophia—

she only smiled.

this was the rhythm they had fallen into, the silent dance of shadow and silence, of words that meant nothing and everything, of stolen glances and hidden truths.

she knew she would not find manon if she looked.

she knew that if she turned too fast, if she tried to chase the flicker of movement at the edge of her vision, all she would find was empty air.

because manon was a ghost in the dark, a phantom that belonged to the spaces between the trees, and she would not be found until she chose to be found.

sophia exhaled slowly, tilting her head, listening.

the moment stretched between them, heavy and thick like the fog that clung to the earth, wrapping around the trees in eerie tendrils. the forest was quiet, almost unnaturally so, as if the world itself had paused, holding its breath in anticipation of what would come next. but sophia wasn't afraid of the silence. she wasn't afraid of the dark, nor of the creature standing so close she could feel the unnatural cold radiating from her body. she wasn't afraid of manon.

she should be.

any other person would have felt it—that strange, creeping sensation at the base of the spine, the primal knowledge that something unnatural lurked nearby, something that had no business walking among the living. but sophia had never been like other people.

her breath hitched as she registered just how close manon was. one moment, she had been a whisper in the shadows, a presence lurking at the edge of sophia's awareness, always just out of reach.

and now, as if conjured by the very thought of her, she stood there, inches away, her tall, statuesque frame a striking contrast against the backdrop of the forest. the movement had been too fast, too smooth, so seamless that had sophia blinked, she might have thought manon had simply materialized from thin air.

the space between them felt suffocatingly small, and yet, sophia found she had no desire to step away. if anything, she wanted to close what little distance remained, to reach out and press her fingertips against manon's cold skin, to remind herself that this was real. that she was real.

the moonlight cast manon in a haunting glow, accentuating the sharp, regal features of her face—the high cheekbones, the elegant slope of her nose, the fullness of her lips, which were now curled into a smirk. stray strands of her thick braids, tied high in a long ponytail, framed her face, swaying ever so slightly in the wind.

her denim jacket, worn at the edges, hung loosely around her broad shoulders, the white tank top beneath doing little to soften the dangerous allure of her presence. dark jeans clung to her form, tucked neatly into black leather boots that carried the weight of centuries, though they showed no signs of wear beyond the dust of the forest path.

but it was her eyes that held sophia captive.

hazel brown, deep and rich, but hollow, devoid of the warmth and light found in the eyes of the living. they were dead eyes. the kind that had seen too much, had lived too long, had lost too many things that had once made them human. and yet, despite the emptiness in them, despite the eerie stillness that lay beneath their surface, sophia could not look away. to anyone else, those eyes would have been unsettling. to her, they were mesmerizing.

manon was staring at her the way a hunter observed its prey, with quiet amusement, with knowing patience, as if she were waiting for something. or perhaps, as if she were deciding what to do with her now that she had her within reach.

sophia's heartbeat betrayed her, pounding against her ribs like a war drum. she was certain manon could hear it, could feel it thrumming in the air between them. it was a secret she could not keep, a confession written into the very pulse of her veins.

and manon was enjoying it.

sophia could see it in the slight tilt of her head, in the way her smirk deepened, in the almost imperceptible shift of her weight as she leaned in, allowing the unnatural chill of her presence to press against sophia's skin.

it was cold. not the familiar chill of the autumn air, not the fleeting, fleeting kiss of wind against exposed skin, but something deeper, something that stole warmth rather than simply lacking it. the kind of cold that did not belong to something that still had a heartbeat.

sophia knew what she was. she had always known.

and yet, she stayed.

the night air was filled with the faint scent of damp earth and distant rain, but beneath it, there was something else—something faint and unplaceable, something uniquely manon. sophia breathed it in, let it settle in her lungs, let it wrap around her like a phantom embrace.

manon's lips parted, her voice dark and rich and low, sending a shiver down sophia's spine.

"liar."

the single word was a quiet accusation, but it did not feel like a reprimand. it felt like a game, like an invitation, like a challenge meant to be met.

sophia's lips twitched slightly, the corner of her mouth curving in something between amusement and surrender. she had known manon would see through her words. she had expected it, had even welcomed it. there was no point in lying—not to her. manon had always been able to strip her bare with nothing more than a glance, had always been able to unravel the threads of her carefully constructed facade with nothing but a single spoken truth.

sophia let the silence stretch between them, let the weight of manon's gaze press against her like a tangible thing, let her own heartbeat steady itself before she spoke.

"yes." she murmured finally, her voice soft, teasing, but edged with something real, something undeniable. "i suppose i am."

the smirk on manon's lips did not fade. if anything, it deepened, her gaze darkening with something unreadable, something dangerous, something hungry.

sophia felt the shift in the air between them, the subtle but undeniable crackle of tension, like the moment before lightning struck. she had the distinct feeling that she had stepped too close to the edge of something vast and consuming, something that would swallow her whole if she let it.

and yet, she did not look away.

she would never look away.

manon leaned in, her movements as effortless as the drifting of mist through the trees, slow and measured, deliberate in a way that made sophia's breath hitch before she could stop herself. the distance between them, already thin as a thread, vanished entirely as manon's lips brushed against her cheek—soft, featherlight, almost reverent. a whisper of cold against the warmth of her skin.

sophia's eyes fluttered closed at the sensation, the world around them fading into something distant, unimportant. there was only this. only the press of manon's mouth against her skin, fleeting and cold, leaving a trail of ice in its wake. a ghost of a touch that lingered long after it was gone.

for a moment, sophia did not move. she only let herself feel it. the stark contrast between them. the way manon's presence sent shivers down her spine—not from fear, never from fear, but from something far more intoxicating.

but then, slowly, tentatively, she raised her hand.

her fingers found the line of manon's jaw, tracing along the sharp curve of bone, the cool, smooth expanse of her skin. she did not know what possessed her to do it, did not know what emboldened her fingers to wander so freely, so fearlessly, across something that was not meant to be touched.

manon did not stop her.

sophia's breath was unsteady as her palm settled at last against manon's cheek, cradling it gently, as if testing the reality of her, as if searching for something within that cold, unyielding exterior. and beneath her fingertips, beneath the icy stillness, there was something—something alive, something buried, something waiting.

manon closed her eyes.

just for a second.

she exhaled softly, the sound barely there, barely real. and yet, it sent a shiver through sophia, something deep and aching and sharp.

manon was always cold. always. no matter how close she stood, no matter how much sophia reached for her, she was untouchable in a way that had nothing to do with distance.

and yet—

she let sophia touch her now.

let her trace the elegant curve of her jaw, let her fingertips brush over skin that had not known warmth in centuries. let her linger, as if something within her welcomed the sensation despite itself.

then, a whisper.

soft.

breathless.

"what are you doing, sophia?"

the words barely reached her, spoken in a voice so low, so quiet, it felt more like a thought than a question. manon did not move, did not open her eyes. she only stood there, still and waiting, her expression unreadable, but something about her felt—

vulnerable.

not weak. never weak.

but something else.

something that made sophia's chest tighten with something too vast, too heavy, too impossible to name.

she swallowed.

her thumb brushed against manon's cheekbone, the touch so light it might have been imagined, might have never happened at all. but she knew it had, because she could feel the way manon's breath caught, the way her body—so eerily still, so accustomed to motionless existence—shifted just slightly, leaning into the warmth before she could stop herself.

and it was warmth.

sophia was certain of it.

not much, not nearly enough to make her believe manon could ever be like her, ever be human again. but just enough to tell her that there was something beneath the surface of all that ice.

something that had never been truly lost.

sophia's lips parted, but no words came. what was she supposed to say? she wasn't entirely sure what she was doing herself.

she only knew that she wanted.

wanted to be closer. wanted to chase away the cold that wrapped itself around manon's being like a second skin. wanted to understand the quiet way she lingered, the way she let sophia touch her, the way she breathed her name like it was something delicate, something precious.

she should have stepped away.

should have drawn her hand back.

should have severed whatever invisible thread was pulling them together before it could tangle her in something too deep, too dangerous, too inevitable.

but she didn't.

instead, she whispered, "i don't know."

and it was the truth.

because how could she know? how could she begin to explain the way she felt drawn to manon, the way her presence settled something inside her even as it unraveled everything else?

manon's eyes opened.

the space between them was thin, unbearably so.

and then—

a hand.

cool fingers ghosting over sophia's wrist, wrapping around it, holding—not tightly, not as a warning, but as if testing the weight of her touch. as if deciding whether or not to let her go.

sophia felt her heart stutter at the contact.

it wasn't the first time manon had touched her.

she had felt those hands before, quick and effortless, catching her mid-fall, guiding her through the dark, fingers brushing against hers in moments too fleeting to hold onto.

but this was different.

this was stillness.

this was something fragile, something unspoken, something balanced on the edge of a knife.

and manon—cold, unreadable, eternal manon—was not letting go.

she was looking at her now, truly looking, her hazel eyes dark and endless, filled with something that sophia could not quite decipher.

there was no hunger in them.

sophia's fingers curled slightly, her palm pressing just a little more firmly against manon's cheek. and though she knew manon did not need to breathe, she swore she felt the slightest hitch in her breath, the faintest tremor beneath the stillness.

and then—

manon whispered, so soft it barely reached her.

"you should stop."

but she didn't pull away.

she didn't let go.

and neither did sophia.

it was slow, deliberate, but there was something strained in the movement, something almost reluctant. sophia felt the loss of her touch immediately, the absence of that cool, steady presence like a thread snapping between them, severing something fragile before it could fully take form.

manon, finally took a step back.

the space between them grew.

manon's eyes did not leave hers, but there was something different in them now. a quiet war waged beneath their surface, a flicker of hesitation, of restraint. it was subtle, but sophia saw it—the way her fingers twitched ever so slightly at her sides, as if resisting the urge to reach back out, to undo the space she had just placed between them.

sophia's hand, the one that had been cradling manon's cheek only moments ago, hovered uselessly in the air for a second longer before it dropped to her side. she did not try to reach for her again, did not try to close the distance that manon had so carefully created. she only watched.

manon's expression had returned to that unreadable stillness, that careful mask of indifference, but sophia had seen beneath it—just for a moment. she had felt the way manon had leaned into her touch, however briefly, however hesitantly.

she was fighting it.

sophia exhaled softly, tilting her head slightly as she studied the woman before her. the silence between them stretched, thick with things unsaid, with words neither of them dared to voice. and then—

manon disappeared.

not like a ghost fading into nothingness, not like mist dissolving in the wind. no, it was faster than that—too fast. a blur of movement, a rush of air, a shift so seamless that if sophia had blinked, she might have believed manon had never been there at all.

the night was empty again.

only the whisper of the wind remained.

sophia let out a breath, something caught between exasperation and amusement. she had grown used to this—manon appearing and vanishing like she was nothing more than a dream, a shadow slipping between the cracks of reality. and yet, despite the abruptness of her departure, despite the lingering chill where manon's fingers had touched her skin, sophia could not bring herself to be frustrated.

a faint smile curved at the edges of her lips.

she shoved her hands into the pockets of her jacket, seeking warmth, though she knew it would not compare to the cold she had just been so willing to embrace. it was absurd, really. manon had always been cold, had always carried the unnatural chill of something not meant to exist in the realm of the living. and yet, somehow, sophia missed it.

she missed her.

the thought was ridiculous, but undeniable.

and then—

a voice, low and smooth, slipping through the night like a blade cutting through silence.

"have you learned nothing, sophia?"

the words sent a shiver down her spine, not from fear, but from something else entirely.

sophia stilled.

her head tilted slightly, her brows drawing together just a fraction as her lips parted in quiet surprise. manon's voice had come from nowhere, from everywhere. she was not standing before her, not lurking in the shadows like she so often did.

and then, as if answering the unspoken question, sophia's gaze lifted.

there.

high above, perched effortlessly on a thick branch, manon sat with a casual grace that should not have been possible for something so otherworldly. her posture was relaxed, her legs crossed at the ankles, one elbow resting against the trunk of the tree as if she had always belonged there, as if the wind itself had carried her to that spot. but her attention—sharp, unwavering—was fixed on something in her hands.

her wristwatch.

she blinked, momentarily thrown off by the sight of it glinting faintly in the moonlight, caught between manon's long, delicate fingers. it took a second—just a second—before realization dawned.

she glanced down at her wrist.

bare.

a chuckle escaped her, soft and breathless.

of course.

manon had stolen it. again.

sophia had not felt it, not even for a moment. she never did. it was almost becoming a game between them—one in which she was always destined to lose.

manon's gaze flicked up from the watch to meet hers, and there was something dangerously amused in the way she watched her, something almost playful.

but beneath that amusement, beneath the sharp wit and the careful control, there was something else.

something sophia had glimpsed just before manon had stepped away.

something she was trying desperately to suppress.

and that, more than anything, intrigued her.

because whatever manon was fighting—whatever war raged within her—it was not something she could run from forever.

manon lowered the watch slowly, her fingers loosening around the delicate band, letting it settle in the palm of her hand. the silver face of it glinted softly beneath the moonlight, its hands ticking steadily, an unbothered reminder of time's passing—so meaningless to her, and yet, in this moment, she found herself fixated on it. on the fragile weight of it in her grasp. on the fact that it had belonged to her.

sophia.

the thought of her name alone sent something sharp and aching through her chest, something foreign, something dangerous.

and then, as if drawn by an invisible pull, manon's gaze lifted, her eyes finding sophia's figure standing below, bathed in the soft glow of night.

she was still watching her.

that gentle, unshaken way she always did, like she had never once feared her, like she had never hesitated to reach for something that should have repelled her. there was no wariness in her expression, no trace of apprehension. only quiet fondness, quiet warmth—something deeper, something that made the cold within manon shift, crack, like ice splintering under the first touch of spring.

that feeling again.

the one she could not name.

the one she refused to name.

it unfurled in her chest without permission, without restraint, curling around her ribs, sinking into the hollow spaces of her existence where nothing else had ever belonged. it was unnatural, impossible, something she had never allowed herself to feel. and yet, it happened all the same.

because of her.

because of sophia.

the only one who could make her feel this way, the only one who had ever made her question the depth of her own stillness, her own cold, her own hollow existence.

the only one who had ever made her ache.

the silver watch glided soundlessly between her fingers as she turned it over absently, the weight of it insignificant compared to the weight of her gaze. she should have looked away. she should have vanished again, slipped into the night before this pull between them became too much.

but she didn't.

she only watched.

watched as sophia's lips, curved moments ago in a quiet grin, softened into something smaller, something fainter. the kind of smile that wasn't just for amusement or playfulness, but for something felt.

and then—

a whisper.

so soft, so weightless it could have been carried away with the wind, could have dissolved into nothing before it even reached her.

"i missed you."

the words threaded through the night like a secret, like something fragile, something not meant for the world to hear—only her.

manon's breath stilled.

something deep inside her shifted, threatening to crumble, to give way beneath the quiet force of those words, beneath the meaning they carried, the truth they held.

sophia had said it so simply, so effortlessly, as if it had always been true. as if missing her—something cold, something unnatural, something not meant for this world—was as natural as breathing.

manon did not breathe.

but for the first time, she wished she did.

her fingers closed around the watch again, a slow, involuntary movement, as if grounding herself against something solid, something real. but even as she held onto it, even as she curled it into her palm, her gaze did not waver.

sophia was still watching her.

the moonlight traced the soft lines of her face, catching on the strands of her hair, weaving shadows through the gentle curve of her jaw, the slight tilt of her head. she looked up at her with something unreadable, something steady, something that made the space between them feel unbearably small despite the distance.

manon's eyes softened before she could stop them.

the war inside her raged on, but at that moment, she felt something else begin to win.

for a single, lingering second, manon held sophia's gaze, and in that breath of time, something shifted between them—something silent, something unspoken, something neither of them dared to name. it was not new, this feeling, this pull, but tonight, under the hush of the moon and the whispering trees, it felt heavier, more tangible. it pressed into manon's chest, curling around something she had long believed to be frozen beyond repair.

then, before she could stop herself, before she could tear her eyes away, she did something unexpected.

she smiled.

it was small, barely there, a flicker of something that should not have belonged on her lips. it was involuntary, unguarded—a rare slip in the armor she had spent centuries perfecting. but it came all the same, unbidden, like a shadow cast by the light sophia always seemed to bring with her, no matter how deep into the darkness manon tried to retreat.

and then, as quickly as it had appeared, the smile faded.

her gaze dropped, falling to the object resting on her lap—the delicate wristwatch, its silver surface catching the moon's glow in fleeting glimmers. she traced the smooth edges with her thumb, absently turning it between her fingers, watching how the tiny hands continued to tick forward, unbothered by the weight of the moment, oblivious to the way time stretched and twisted in her presence.

manon did not understand it.

she did not understand her.

sophia.

the girl who kept returning, despite the cold, despite the silence, despite the unspoken warnings woven between every encounter. she came back again and again, waiting for something manon did not know how to give.

and what unsettled her the most—what truly made something shift uneasily in her chest—was not the persistence.

it was the fact that she liked it.

she liked that sophia came back.

she liked that she waited.

and even worse—she had wanted her to come tonight.

her fingers clenched around the watch.

why?

why did it matter if sophia showed up or not? why did the nights she spent without her presence feel emptier? why did the world seem quieter when she was gone, and why—why, why, why—did she feel this inexplicable sense of relief whenever she returned?

it made no sense. it went against everything she was, everything she had been for as long as she could remember.

sophia should not matter.

manon had spent centuries without warmth, without attachment, without need. she had been fine in her solitude, untouched by the fleeting nature of mortal existence. but then sophia had looked at her—looked at her like she was something more than a shadow, more than an echo of something that once had life—and now...

now, she was questioning things she had no right to question.

her expression darkened.

her brow furrowed, and a quiet storm gathered behind her eyes as she slid the watch into the pocket of her coat, hiding it away as if that would somehow suppress the feeling that came with it.

then, slowly, she lifted her gaze once more, her eyes finding sophia with unnerving precision, drawn to her as if by some unseen force.

sophia was still staring at her.

still waiting.

manon let out a slow breath, barely audible, then moved.

she rose from her perch on the branch with a grace that defied the laws of nature, her movements so fluid, so effortless, that for a moment, it was as if she were weightless. she descended slowly, unnaturally, her long coat billowing slightly in the night air, her braids swaying with the motion. it was not the clumsy drop of a human nor the careful descent of something bound by gravity. no, manon floated, her fall as controlled as the shifting of the tide, as if the very air itself bent to her presence.

and then—

her feet touched the earth.

softly. soundlessly.

like a ghost returning home.

the forest held its breath.

sophia did not move.

did not blink.

did not look away.

her eyes remained fixed on manon, unwavering, unshaken, as if she had never once feared her, as if she had never doubted her return.

and for reasons she did not understand—reasons she refused to understand—manon found herself grateful for that.

manon stood there, her feet rooted to the earth, her hands still buried in the deep pockets of her coat as if willing them to stay there, as if grasping onto something unseen. she did not look at sophia at first. instead, her gaze dropped, fixed on the ground, on the space between them, on the invisible line she kept drawing and redrawing in her mind, the boundary she should never cross. but she had already crossed it, hadn't she? again and again, against all logic, against all sense.

and when she finally lifted her head, when her eyes met sophia's once more—everything wavered.

because sophia was looking at her the way she always did, with that unbearable, unshaken warmth, that quiet adoration, that knowing. as if she saw something in manon that manon herself refused to acknowledge. as if she understood something even manon could not name.

something undeniable.

something dangerous.

manon clenched her jaw.

no.

no, she would not let this happen.

she straightened her spine, stiffened her shoulders, forced something cold and unyielding back into her expression. and then, with a voice low, firm, and edged with something she could not quite mask, she spoke.

"look at me, sophia."

the words were not a request. they were an order.

and yet, sophia did not flinch.

she did not recoil.

she had already been looking, her unwavering gaze locked onto manon as if she were studying her, unraveling her, peeling back the layers she had spent lifetimes constructing. it should have unsettled her. it should have angered her.

but instead—

it only frustrated her.

she exhaled sharply and took a step forward. then another.

her footsteps were slow, heavy, deliberate, the sound of them barely registering against the hush of the forest. each movement was controlled, careful, as if she were holding something back, as if she were restraining herself from something far more reckless.

and then, while still in mid-step, her voice broke through the silence again, lower this time, quieter, but tinged with something dangerous.

"you should be afraid of me."

the frustration was there, woven into every syllable, curling beneath her words like smoke.

she took another step.

and another.

sophia did not back away—not yet.

she only stood there, watching, waiting, listening.

manon hated that she listened. hated that she was still listening, even now, when she should have run.

"you should be afraid." she repeated, her voice rougher, firmer, as if saying it enough times would somehow force sophia to understand—force herself to understand.

but sophia did not move.

so manon did.

she kept walking, closing the distance between them, slow and relentless, her movements fluid yet heavy with something unreadable. and then—

sophia stepped back.

finally.

but it was not fear that made her do it.

it was something else entirely.

their eyes never broke away, never strayed from each other, and with every step manon took forward, sophia took one back, her breath shallow, steady, her expression unreadable yet knowing.

and still, manon kept going.

she didn't know why.

maybe it was the frustration.

maybe it was the feeling she did not want to name, the thing curling and twisting beneath her ribs, making her reckless.

or maybe—

maybe she just wanted to see how far sophia would let this go.

the space between them was vanishing, collapsing under the weight of something neither of them had spoken aloud. and yet, manon did not stop.

she should have.

she should have pulled away, turned back, disappeared into the night like she always did, like she had every other time.

but she didn't.

and neither did sophia.

the frustration only built, tightened, threatened to crack through manon's voice as she took another step closer, her tone sharpening, cutting through the thick air between them.

"you shouldn't be here."

it was a command, an accusation, a plea—she wasn't sure which.

but sophia still didn't listen.

the words barely had time to settle before manon took another step, closing the last fragile thread of distance between them.

sophia inhaled sharply, and for the first time, a flicker of hesitation passed through her gaze—but not fear. never fear.

manon's chest almost brushed against sophia's now, her presence overwhelming, her height casting sophia in shadow beneath the pale glow of the moon. she was towering over her, suffocatingly close, the cold of her body seeping into the space between them.

she expected sophia to shrink away.

to break the moment.

to yield.

but instead—she reached up, slow, deliberate, her movements careful yet unwavering. and then, with the barest hint of hesitance, she pressed her hands against manon's chest.

soft.

warm.

steady.

as if she were trying to stop her.

as if she were calming her.

the moment sophia's palms made contact, something inside her fractured—something snapped.

she could feel the warmth of her touch, even through the layers of fabric, through the barrier of cold she had spent centuries perfecting. it was the only warmth she had felt in years.

and it infuriated her.

not because she did not want it.

but because she did.

because she had no right to want it.

because this—this human, this mortal girl with her unwavering eyes and stubborn warmth—had done something impossible.

she had touched her.

and manon had let her.

but manon kept walking.

she didn’t stop, not when sophia’s hands pressed against her chest, not when her name slipped from sophia’s lips in that quiet, pleading way—like a tether, like an anchor, as if the sound of it alone could pull her back from whatever edge she was standing on. and she was standing on an edge. she had been for centuries. a fragile precipice between what she had been and what she feared she was becoming.

she knew she should stop. she knew she should have already stopped.

but she couldn’t.

something inside her was unraveling, something she had kept locked away for longer than she could remember, something only sophia seemed able to touch. it stirred in the deepest part of her, raw and restless, slipping through the cracks she had spent centuries fortifying against anything that might remind her of what she had lost.

her steps were slow but heavy, her movements deliberate but unsteady in a way that unsettled her. as if her body was betraying her, as if it was moving on instinct, drawn forward by a force she could not name, a force she refused to name. she should have turned away. should have vanished into the night, left sophia standing there alone in the clearing, watching as she disappeared into the darkness once more.

but she didn’t.

instead, she walked.

and then—

“why do you keep coming back, sophia?”

her voice was low, rough, dragged from her lips against her will. it wasn’t meant to be a question. it was meant to be a demand. a warning. a final, desperate push to send sophia away before she fell too deep into something neither of them could escape.

but it didn’t sound like a demand.

it didn’t sound like a warning.

it sounded like something else entirely.

something closer to a plea.

and sophia—damn her—heard it.

she stilled, her dark eyes never leaving manon’s face, her breath caught somewhere between her lips, hovering in the cold air between them. she wasn’t afraid. she never was. and for the first time, manon found she wasn’t sure whether that angered her or shattered her.

her steps faltered. her gaze dropped, her focus shifting to the space between them, to the way their shadows bled together beneath the dim, silver glow of the moonlight. she exhaled sharply, an unsteady, shuddering breath that fogged the air before vanishing into the night, lost just like everything else.

everything inside her felt wrong. twisted. unraveled. tense.

she didn’t want to know why sophia kept coming back. she didn’t want to acknowledge what she already suspected, what she had known since the first time sophia had looked at her without fear. since the first time she had looked at her with something else—something deeper, something warmer, something far more dangerous.

and then—

a touch.

light. steady.

fingertips grazing her cheek, cautious but certain, gentle but unshaken.

sophia.

manon’s body went rigid, every muscle in her frame locking in place, her entire being screaming at her to pull away, to vanish into the dark like she always did. but she did not move.

she should have.

she should have recoiled the moment sophia’s warmth seeped into her skin, should have disappeared before this could go any further, before she lost the last shred of control she had left.

but she didn’t.

she let her.

sophia’s fingers tilted her chin up, guiding her gaze back, coaxing her to meet her eyes once more.

manon resisted at first.

but only for a moment.

because when she finally looked—

she was undone.

sophia’s dark almond eyes were filled with something manon could not fight against. something deep and warm and unwavering. something that left no room for denial, no space for manon to pretend she did not see it.

affection.

devotion.

love.

it was unbearable.

it was intoxicating.

and manon hated it.

hated it because it was tearing her apart from the inside, because it was breaking down the walls she had spent lifetimes building, because it made her feel human in a way that both terrified and enraged her.

but above all, she hated it because some treacherous, foolish part of her wanted it.

and then—sophia leaned in.

slowly. deliberately.

until their foreheads touched.

until all the space between them vanished entirely.

manon inhaled sharply at the contact, her breath unsteady, her body rigid with the effort of keeping herself still, of keeping herself from shattering completely.

sophia’s scent surrounded her, warm and familiar, laced with something uniquely hers, something that manon could pick out even in the darkest of nights, even through the chaos of everything else.

and then—a whisper.

soft. fractured.

“just let me love you.”

manon’s eyes fluttered closed.

she felt it.

every breath.

every ache wrapped within those words.

and something inside her broke.

it wasn’t loud.

it was quiet.

like the first crack in ice before it begins to thaw.

her fingers twitched at her sides, aching to move, aching to reach, aching to do something she had no right to do.

because she knew—gods, she knew—if she so much as touched sophia now, she would never be able to let her go.

and yet—she could not move away either.

because sophia’s words had rooted her in place, had ruined her in a way nothing else ever had.

she swallowed hard, her throat tight, her mind a storm of chaos, of denial, of need.

she could not do this.

she could not do this.

but damn her.

damn sophia.

because she was still there, still waiting, still offering something manon had no right to take, but something she wanted more than anything.

manon opened her eyes.

sophia was so close.

so warm.

so steady.

and manon—who had spent centuries untouched, who had spent centuries denying herself even the smallest sliver of warmth—felt herself falling.

for the first time in her existence—

she was afraid.

not of sophia.

not of what she was.

but of what she could become in sophia’s hands.

and that—

that terrified her more than anything.

the space between them was fragile, hanging by a thread, stretched thin with something neither of them could name but both could feel.

manon should have stepped away.

she should have disappeared into the night like she always did, vanished like a wisp of smoke before this could go too far—before it became something irreversible.

but she didn't.

not when sophia was here, so close, her breath warm against manon's lips, her touch steady and unwavering. not when the weight of those words—"just let me love you"—still echoed in her mind, unraveling her, dismantling every wall she had ever built.

sophia moved first.

slowly and deliberately.

she leaned in, her lips just a breath away, the warmth of her so achingly close that manon could feel it sinking into her skin, thawing the cold she had worn for centuries like armor.

manon's breath hitched.

the moment sophia's lips brushed against hers—light as a whisper, soft as the first snowfall—something inside manon snapped.

the last thread of her resistance broke.

and she gave in.

the kiss was tentative at first, delicate, a question rather than a demand. sophia was careful, as if afraid manon would slip through her fingers like a ghost, as if afraid she would fade into nothing if she wasn't held gently enough.

and maybe—maybe she would have.

but not now.

not when sophia was here, kissing her like she was something precious, something real.

manon exhaled softly, her entire body sinking into the moment.

and then, as if drawn by something beyond her control, her hands moved.

fingers grazing over sophia's waist, barely there, hesitant, as if testing the weight of the touch. but when sophia didn't pull away—when instead, she leaned in, pressing closer—manon let her hands settle fully, her arms wrapping around her as if she could keep her there, as if she wanted to keep her there.

and gods, she did.

the realization sent something shattering through her, something raw and unfamiliar, something terrifying in its intensity.

but sophia—steady, constant sophia—was still there, still kissing her with all the quiet patience in the world, as if this moment belonged only to them.

manon had spent lifetimes untouched.

lifetimes knowing only the sharp edge of isolation, the cold certainty that she could never have this, never be this.

and yet—sophia was touching her like she wasn't untouchable.

kissing her like she wasn't something distant, something unreachable.

loving her like she wasn't impossible.

manon shuddered.

her grip on sophia's waist tightened—not enough to hurt, never enough to hurt, but enough to hold, enough to ground herself in something that was slipping further and further beyond her control.

sophia pulled back.

just a fraction.

just long enough to look at her.

her lips were parted, breath unsteady, eyes dark with something unreadable. but she didn't move away. if anything, she lingered, as if reluctant to put even the smallest space between them.

manon should have used the moment to retreat.

should have let go, should have rebuilt the walls that had crumbled so easily under sophia's touch.

sophia tilted her head slightly, her gaze flickering to manon's lips before meeting her eyes again.

and she leaned in once more.

this time, there was no hesitation.

this time, it wasn't a question.

it was an answer.

the kiss was deeper, slower, more certain.

manon felt the shift in it, the way sophia pressed in, the way she kissed her like she was meant to, like she belonged there.

and maybe she did.

manon had never known warmth like this, had never let herself have warmth like this.

but now, as sophia's hands cradled her face with such unbearable care, as her lips moved against manon's with something achingly gentle and impossibly sure—

she wondered if she could ever go back.

if she could ever bury this, lock it away, pretend it had never happened.

because this—this—was not something she could forget.

and perhaps, for the first time in centuries, she didn't want to.

the night stretched around them like an endless abyss, a world of shadows and silence, where time no longer held meaning. the air was thick with the remnants of what had just passed between them, something fragile yet unbreakable, something inevitable.

manon had spent lifetimes in the dark, an existence of endless cold, of solitude so absolute it had become part of her, woven into her very being like a second skin. she had told herself she did not need warmth, did not crave it, did not deserve it.

and yet here she was.

held.

safe and sound.

sophia's arms wrapped around her, gentle yet firm, grounding her in a way manon had never known. the world outside ceased to exist—the trees, the wind, the ghosts of the past whispering through the night. none of it mattered. not when she was here. not when sophia's warmth was pressed against her, anchoring her to something real.

manon could feel it still—the ghost of sophia's touch, the imprint of her lips lingering like an unspoken promise. her hands had found their way back to manon's face, fingers tracing delicate lines over her cheek, her jaw, as if memorizing her, as if afraid she might disappear like a fading dream.

but manon did not disappear.

she did not run.

she only stayed.

for the first time in centuries, she let herself stay.

a shuddering breath left her lips, and before she could stop herself, she turned into sophia's touch, pressing her cheek against the warmth of her palm. the sensation was foreign, unfamiliar, and yet—right.

sophia exhaled softly, her breath feather-light against manon's skin. and then, after a long, lingering moment, she spoke.

"you don't have to be alone anymore."

the words were barely a whisper, barely real, but they settled deep within manon, slipping through the cracks she had spent lifetimes trying to seal.

she should have denied it.

should have laughed, brushed it off, told sophia that she was alone, that it was the only way she knew how to exist.

but the words wouldn't come.

instead, she closed her eyes.

and for once, she let herself feel.

the warmth of sophia's hands, the quiet steadiness of her presence, the way her very being seemed to soften the jagged edges of manon's existence.

the night around them was endless, stretching on like an eternity of darkness. but here, in sophia's arms, it didn't feel cold. it didn't feel empty.

it felt safe.

it felt like something she had never known, something she had never dared to hope for.

and it terrified her.

because she had never believed she could have this.

had never thought she was capable of it.

but sophia was here, holding her, touching her, as if she had never doubted for a second that manon was worth holding onto.

as if she wasn't afraid of her.

as if she never would be.

manon swallowed, her throat tight, her chest aching with something she did not know how to name. slowly, hesitantly, she let her own hands move, let them find sophia's waist, let her fingers curl into the fabric of her coat as if to keep her there, as if to assure herself that this was real.

sophia didn't pull away.

she only held her tighter, pressing herself closer, tucking her face against manon's shoulder as if she belonged there, as if this was where she had always meant to be.

and maybe it was.

maybe this was always meant to happen, always meant to be—this moment, this closeness, this quiet understanding that neither of them dared put into words.

manon's eyes fluttered open, the night stretching vast and endless around them. the wind whispered through the trees, carrying a melody too soft to hear, too fleeting to hold. but in sophia's arms, it was nothing but background noise.

because here, she was safe.

sophia shifted slightly, her lips brushing against manon's temple, a touch so light it barely existed. and then she whispered, so softly it melted into the wind,

"you'll be alright."

manon closed her eyes.

and for the first time in centuries—

she let herself believe it.