Chapter 6: A Warmth in the Dark

Cold.

That was the only thing Estella Everdawn knew anymore. Just the cold, and the heavy, suffocating weight of the obsidian chains.

The corrupted mana inside her chest burned. It felt like she had swallowed broken glass.

’Is it today?’ she wondered, her mind floating in a hazy, violet fog.

’Just let it be today. Let it end.’

The oily voices of the Priests echoed in her ears.

Sacrifice. Vessel. Ruin.

Words that meant nothing to her. Words that only meant pain.

GRIND.

The heavy steel door scraped against the stone.

’They are here.’ Estella did not lift her head. She just waited for the rusted blade.

"I am getting you out of here."

The voice was wrong. It was not old. It was not chanting.

Estella forced her heavy eyes open. A boy was standing there. He was covered in blood. He was thin, looking like a skeleton wrapped in stolen rags.

"Are you... here to finish it?" her voice scratched her throat like dry sand.

He told her to stay still. He stepped closer.

’Why is he looking at me?’ Estella’s breath hitched in panic.

’He is not looking at the chains. He is not looking at the magic. He is looking at my face.’

He touched the stone binding her wrist. She squeezed her eyes shut. She braced for the burning shock of the runes.

CRACK.

No pain. Just dust falling on her skin.

THUD.

The chains vanished. Her legs crumbled. She fell, waiting for the hard stone to smash her teeth.

She hit something soft. Something warm.

The boy caught her. He was shaking. He was so incredibly weak, but his hands dug into her shoulders and held her up.

’Warm,’ she thought, her mind struggling to process the sensation.

’He is warm. People are not warm.’

She heard a sound against her ear.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

A heartbeat. Fast, but steady.

The next few hours were a blur of loud noises and terrifying motion.

BOOOOOOM!

The ground tore open. Heat washed over her back.

SPLASH.

Freezing, filthy water swallowed them.

When they dragged themselves onto the hard concrete of the sewer, Estella curled into a tight ball. Her teeth chattered so hard her jaw ached.

’He will leave me now,’ she told the darkness.

’I am heavy. I am sick. He will leave.’

She wanted to scream. She wanted to beg him not to leave her alone in the dark. But her throat was sealed shut by terror.

He did not leave.

He crawled to her. He pushed the filthy hair out of her eyes. He touched her bandages.

His hands were gentle. It confused her deeply. Why was he being gentle?

Later, the blinding lights hit them.

BZZZT!

"FREEZE! HUNTER POLICE!"

Estella stopped breathing. The light was so bright it burned her eyes. They were going to die.

Suddenly, the boy dropped. He pulled her down to the asphalt. He started screaming for help. He sounded terrified. He sounded like a broken, crying child.

Estella stared at him, completely bewildered.

He was not scared before. Why was he crying?

But the men in armor lowered their glowing hands. The boy’s screaming made them stop.

She fainted.

---

Now, there was no cold.

Estella opened her eyes. White ceiling. Soft sheets.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

A machine chirped next to her. She took a breath. She waited for the burning glass in her chest.

Nothing.

She gasped, sitting up in a blind panic. She tore the blanket off her arms.

The purple veins were gone. Her skin was just skin.

’Dead,’ she thought wildly, touching her own face.

’I am dead. It finally happened.’

She looked around the room. Sunlight was spilling through a window.

Sitting in a chair by the light was the boy.

He wore gray clothes. His face was clean. He had a knife and a red apple.

Shk. Shk. Shk.

The red skin of the apple fell in a long, perfect ribbon.

Estella watched him, her mind completely blank. The boy from the blood. The boy from the sewer. The boy who screamed in the alley.

He was just sitting there, peeling fruit. Like none of it happened. Like he was a normal person.

It scared her.

"You are awake."

He did not look up. His voice was too calm. Too flat.

Estella grabbed the blanket, pulling it tightly to her chest. "You... you stayed."

"I did," he said.

Snick. He cut the apple. He looked at her. His eyes were exactly the same as in the dungeon. Sharp. Piercing. Calculating.

"How is the chest pain?" he asked.

"It is gone," she whispered, shrinking back against the pillows.

"The magic... it does not hurt. What happened?"

"A high-ranking Hunter with a very expensive healing elixir walked past your stretcher in the hallway," he said. His face did not change.

"You got lucky. We both did."

He walked to her bed. He held out a piece of the apple.

Estella stared at the fruit. She stared at his hand. She slowly reached out and took it. Her fingers brushed his. He was still warm.

"I do not even know your name," she whispered, her voice barely working.

"It is Draven," he said. He bit his apple. Crunch.

"And we need to have a talk about what happens next, Estella."