Page 25 of Dark as the Cursed Abyss

She ran toward the pool of blood that spread around her lover’s body, collapsing into it with her weakened limbs.

“I am sorry. I am so very sorry,” she repeated over and over until the blood dried, and only then did Farah reach deep into the pit of her power, sparking a flame in her palm and letting Celene’s body burn.

When Farah opened her eyes, it was no longer amber ones that stared back lifelessly, but crystal blue pools that breathed hope back into her once more. Chloe stroked her cheek with her palm, wiping away the tears that fell for something Farah could no longer recall.

“I will remember her for the both of us. Her beauty will never be forgotten.”

Before she could thank Chloe, before she could say anything, a new memory flooded the river.

Bright light of the morning sun glittered off the stained-glass windows of the inn. A small bed lay in the center of the room, woolen blankets and sheets rustled to the side from the night before. A silver-haired woman lay face down in the bed, the sound of easeful snores whistling from her nose into the pillow. In an open window, a blue jay sat, silently at first before it started to chirp like a lady’s maid ringing the morning bell.

“What is that noise?” the woman murmured, face still planted in the pillow. “I am not ready to get up just yet.”

There was no response.

The woman yawned and stretched out her arms before rubbing her eyes clean, adjusting to the morning’s light.

“What shall we do today? There’s this little bookstore in town I would love to bring you to. Or, perhaps we just stay in bed all day,” she chuckled and rolled over.

But beside Chloe the bed was empty. Cold.

She glanced around the room to see if the princess sat in the chair by the fire, or had gone to the bathing chamber, but both were empty.

So Chloe waited and hours ticked by, but Farah never returned. She had left for good.

No goodbye.

No note.

No nothing.

And the feeling of rejection scratched its way deep into her heart.

Farah’s eyes widened. She had waited there for her the entire day. It had never occurred to Farah that Chloe would assume she had left for any reason other than her duties as a spy to the Nexian court.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Farah asked, her heart racing.

Beside her, Chloe looked perplexed, but she did not seem vengeful or hurt, merely curious. “Tell you what?”

“Nevermind.” There were only a few steps left for them to take before crossing to the other shore. “Together?” Farah asked, reaching out her hand.

Chloe took it, and the softness of her skin put Farah at ease for the first time that night. “Together.”

It was now their burden—to keep the other’s memories. To live in the fear and pain and shame that the other no longer needed to bear.

But it was guilt that Farah felt the most. It ate its way through her veins and to her heart with every flash of one of Chloe’s memories.

They were all of her. And Farah had never known.

Chapter Eighteen

Chloe

Snow crunched beneath paws as Chloe raced through the forest in her wolf form, the silver fur along her spine bristling with excitement and focus. Her ears twitched, picking up the smallest snap of a branch, the faintest whisper of wind over snow, the heartbeat of prey hidden among the trees. Farah was close behind, boots kicking up powdery flurries, her own steps graceful and fluid despite the icy terrain.

The deer was fast, its sleek body weaving between pines and birches, antlers scraping low branches. Chloe’s instincts sharpened—each turn, each leap, each sudden drop in the terrain was a test of endurance, speed, and cunning. She felt Farah’s presence like a tether beside her, guiding, supporting, a steady weight against the thrill of the chase.

The forest seemed endless, trees looming like silent sentinels. Chloe’s heart hammered against her ribs. Even now, with the snow muffling sound, she couldn’t shake the feeling that the forest watched as much as she did. That they themselves were being hunted. A lesson from her father whispered in her memory. Always expect pursuit, always expect the unseen predator. But what if the predator was someone they didn’t anticipate?