Page 117 of Ashen Souls

My stiff fingers flew across the screen.

Me: I’m safe. I need to get away for a bit. I’ll call you when I can.

I hit send, switched the phone to silent, and buried it deep in my pocket.

The ring caught the dull light from the window.

The urge to leave it behind was tempting. I wanted to abandon it as a relic of my catastrophic naivety.

But walking away wouldn't sever the tie. Miles of highway wouldn't change the truth. The sigil remained scarred into my wrist. He was still bound to me, and I to him, no matter how far I ran.

I crouched and retrieved the band, dropping it into the pocket of my hoodie.

Not onto my finger. Never onto my finger again.

I hauled the suitcase into the hallway, pulling the door shut behind me. I pressed my forehead against the painted wood and closed my eyes.

I took the stairs, threw the luggage into the trunk, and slid into my car. I merged onto the wet asphalt, driving past the campus and the coffee shops, leaving Vesbridge behind.

On the first desolate stretch of highway, I reached for my playlist. A heavy, atmospheric track kicked in: pulsing bass and lyrics steeped in a dark, consuming devotion. I hit skip. The next song was worse, drenched in obsession and surrender. I killed the audio. Silence was better.

The highway unspooled in long, unbroken lines. Concrete dissolved into lightless woods. Minutes and miles bled together until the black sky finally softened into charcoal. And then the landscape broke open. A faint, shifting silver band caught the morning glow.

Water.

I parked in an empty lot overlooking the shore and pushed the door open. Freezing wind whipped my hair and bit through my hoodie. I picked my way down to the beach, stopping just short of the glassy foam.

The ocean possessed no memory of demons or spells. It remained ignorant of weaponized devotion. I inhaled deeply, the salt burning my lungs. Somewhere beyond that dark water, another dimension still burned.

If love could be forged into a weapon, perhaps it could also be rewritten.

The coastal chill eventually cut through my layers, biting into my skin. I shoved my hands into my pockets for warmth, my knuckles grazing the glass of my phone and the metal of the ring.

I pulled the phone out. Harper’s name monopolized the lock screen, a descending tower of texts charting her progression from standard concern to outright panic.

Harper: Where are you?

Harper: Please answer.

Harper: I’m starting to panic.

Harper: Aveline, this isn’t funny.

Harper: Are you safe?

Guilt bloomed beneath my ribs. Harper loved loudly. She refused to step back, even when retreating would be kinder.

A single notification sat isolated beneath Harper's barrage.

Unknown Number: Just let me know you're safe. E.

I stared at the minimalist sign-off.

Ethan.

My thoughts flashed back to yesterday’s rain. The intersection. His voice cutting through my panic. He had witnessed me unraveling, and he hadn't disguised his concern. The simple fact that he had reached out eclipsed everything else. After surviving Daeren’s psychological warfare, uncomplicated mortal concern felt completely alien.

The tension in my jaw relented. A ghost of a smile touched my lips.