She felt a shiver curl down her spine.
She got to her feet and let the charm guide her through the mist.
The charm glowed brightly constantly now.
She must be in the right direction
Well—
Maybe not the right one.
She wasn't sure anymore.
But she didn't have much choice.
Without even realising it, the desperation crept in.
Quiet. Subtle.
But unmistakable.
Spring had the intuition of an elder mage god—
But her mind? That's a different story.
It built walls against it. Constantly.
Her true enemy was, almost always, herself.
She was worried.
The last time she saw him,
Fall was injured.
She wouldn't say it out loud.
Not even to herself.
But still—
She was worried.
She started running.
And slowly—
Her run became her run.
That familiar bolt of speed.
The one she didn't think she could still do.
But she did.
The mist began to clear around her.
And then—
She stopped in her tracks.
A lake.
It lay there, untouched beneath the moonlight.
A mirror for the sky.
It always has to be a lake, huh?
The charm dimmed in her hand.
She moved it slowly to the left—
It pulsed again.
Brighter.
And then—
She saw it. What she wasn't sure she wanted to see.
Him.
He was lying there.
Fall.
Collapsed at the water's edge,
half-curled like something the world had used up
and left behind.
His body was soaked.
Bloodied.
Torn wide open across the chest.
The sight blurred her vision.
He wasn't moving.
Spring's heart stopped.
Just—stopped.
For one unbearable second,
everything inside her stilled.
"No…"
She ran.
Dropped beside him,
knees slamming into the mud,
water soaking through her clothes.
"No, no, no—"
Her hands hovered above him.
Shaking.
Useless.
Desperate.
"You said—"
Her voice cracked.
"You said you wouldn't do this again."
She pressed her hand to his chest.
His clothes were shredded,
drenched in blood—
The wound from Winter's sword was still there. All of them were.
Along with the silence.
No heartbeat.
Fall was a demon.
Demons didn't have heartbeats.
She couldn't remember that now.
It didn't matter to her.
"Don't do this to me… Please. Not now. Not again."
Her breath hitched.
The sob tore through her before she could stop it.
"You said you weren't going anywhere."
She bent forward—
forehead nearly against his.
"You selfish, reckless—"
her voice dropped to a whisper.
Tears streamed freely now.
Her hands curled into fists,
digging into the bloodied fabric of his coat.
"I hate you."
A breath.
Broken.
"I hate how you left.
I hate how you came back.
I hate that it hurts this much—
every time."
She swallowed hard.
"I hate that I don't know anything anymore."
Her voice trembled.
Cracked open from the inside.
"But I can't—"
The words barely formed.
Her soul said them first.
"I can't lose you again."
The dam broke.
She let out a breath that tasted like fire.
"You said I cuss a lot now…"
A bitter, breathless laugh.
"Well, fuck it."
Her voice shattered.
"I never stopped loving you.
You absolute, crazy,
stupid, fucking idiot!"
She dropped her head to his chest,
whole body trembling,
eyes squeezed shut.
And then—
A breath.
She heard it.
Barely.
But there.
Her eyes flew open. She jolted.
He was still breathing.
Spring's hands darted hastily to his chest, arcane light flickering to life in her palms.
It was faint at first—
A whisper of magic she hadn't called on in years.
But she forced it through.
Pushing.
Igniting that old, sleeping power until it sparked—
Then caught fire.
A soft glow poured from her fingertips, spreading across his skin in delicate threads of light.
It wasn't perfect.
It wasn't pretty.
Hours melted into one another.
The sun rose.
Dipped again beneath the leaves above them.
She didn't move.
Didn't blink.
She just worked—
Hands glowing,
Eyes locked on every wound, every bruise,
Every thread of life she could pull back into him.
Her hands burned.
Her body ached.
Magic drained her until her limbs felt carved from lead.
Her eyes turned glassy with fatigue.
But she didn't stop.
Not until his breath came easier.
Not until she was sure—
Absolutely sure—
That he would live.
When she finally stood, her limbs trembled.
Her vision blurred.
Balance slipped.
Her knees gave out.
She crumpled beside him, palms bracing against his chest.
Sucked in a breath—
Sharp. Ragged.
He was warm.
Too warm.
But steady.
That should be enough.
Her hands slid off his chest.
Her head dropped to his shoulder.
His scent—ashes, shadows, and something faintly sweet—
wrapped around her,
soft and unbearable.
She hadn't meant to fall asleep.
But her body betrayed her.
Too drained.
Too raw.
Too much.
So she did.
Fall woke to warmth.
Real warmth—
Not feverish.
Softer.
Smaller.
Familiar.
He blinked slowly, vision still fogged.
And then—
It hit him.
Spring was curled up against him.
Asleep.
Her fingers were tangled in the fabric of his shirt, knotted tight like she didn't mean to let go.
Her lips—soft, parted—brushed the edge of his chest with every breath.
Warm.
Steady.
Maddeningly close.
She rested against him like she always used to.
Fall didn't move.
Didn't even breathe.
The sky above—clear and pale—faded from his awareness.
All he could see
was her.
A slow, disbelieving smile ghosted across his lips.
But he didn't shift.
Even the thought of movement—
of breaking this fragile, impossible moment—
was unbearable.
This had to be a dream.
And gods—
He didn't want to wake up.
Not after everything.
The agony.
The madness.
The betrayal.
The blood.
She was here.
Pressed to him.
Still.
Alive.
And then he remembered—
She saved him.
It was too familiar.
Too cruelly, beautifully familiar.
Just like the first time they met.
In the Sphere.
She just saved him from… her lover?
A memory flared—
Her eyes. Her hands. Her arcane pouring into him like a vow.
He couldn't believe it.
He remembered falling—
the cold, the bleeding, the dark.
And then—
He remembered it.
All of it.
The things she said.
His smile died.
He didn't move.
But inside—
Something clawed.
Heat.
Fierce.
Unbearable.
It pulsed beneath his skin, feral and desperate.
His hands itched to touch her.
To hold her.
His lips ached to say her name.
To press against her skin.
To devour the closeness she offered without knowing.
He could smell her.
Feel her warmth sinking into his chest like she belonged there.
The words—
The ones she had said when she thought he was gone—
They pulsed in his skull like a heartbeat.
And then—
She stirred.
Her breath caught—sharp, startled.
Her lashes fluttered, blinking once, twice—
Then she jerked upright like she'd been scorched.
In a flash, she was on her feet, scrambling backward, breath stuttering.
Her eyes were wide with alarm.
Hair tumbled over her shoulders in wild disarray, cheeks flushed.
"Fall. I—I must have—"
Her voice wavered, unsteady.
Her hands moved frantically, like she could wave away the intimacy that clung to them.
She shook her head hard, like she could shake the feeling from her skin.
"I was tired. I didn't mean—"
"You saved me," he said.
His voice was low. Grounding.
The silence that followed was thick enough to choke on.
His gaze didn't waver.
"Spring…"
A breath.
Her lips parted, expression faltering.
"I—I didn't know what else to do," she said quickly, reaching for logic like it could protect her.
"The wound would've killed you. Healing it drained me. I didn't— It didn't mean anything more than that."
He didn't blink.
"You're lying."
The words were sharp. Precise.
She flinched.
"I'm not."
"You are."
He rose to his feet—
Slowly. Painfully.
But with a presence that swallowed the space between them.
Even limping, even wounded,
he moved like inevitability itself.
"Say you hate me," he said, voice quieter now. Sharper.
"Say you want me gone."
She took a step back.
Jaw trembling.
"Don't twist this."
"Say it," he murmured.
Slower now.
Almost tender in his cruelty.
"Fall—stop it." she burst out, her voice cracking like it couldn't hold the weight of this.
But his eyes—
They were aflame.
"I am sorry, Spring…"
A pause.
He almost stopped.
Almost.
"…but this time, I can't."
Another step.
The air turned molten.
A live-wire tension coiled tight between them.
"You heard him," he continued.
"You heard what I did. You know what I did to you."
The words came heavy. Deliberate.
"He is your lover now. He was there for you when I wasn't."
His breath caught—
Sharp with pain.
But he didn't stop.
"The fact that he got even a second…
that he touched you…"
He closed his eyes. Just for a moment.
It hurt too much.
"…kills me."
Her breath shuddered.
Eyes wide oppen.
Her silence screamed.
"Tell me you didn't think of me," he said, voice low and frayed with desperation.
"Tell me, and make it sound real."
Her gaze flicked to his—then away, too fast.
Her hands trembled at her sides, fingers twitching with restraint.
He tilted his head, a smirk ghosting across his lips.
Cruel. Knowing.
"Tell me," he said,
"that when he touched you, you didn't wish it was me."
She flinched.
Barely.
But he saw it.
The flush in her cheeks.
The way her eyes darted like guilt trying to hide.
"What are you talking abou—"
He leaned in—
Close enough to graze her skin.
His breath brushed her jaw.
"Tell me," he whispered,
"that you didn't close your eyes and picture my hands instead of his."
Her chest jerked—caught between inhale and denial.
Her lips parted.
No words came.
"Tell me," he murmured, softer now, crueler still,
"that you never wondered if I would've kissed you slower. Deeper."
His mouth curved, but the smile didn't reach his eyes.
"That maybe it would've meant more."
Her fists clenched, white-knuckled.
Her throat worked—tight and silent.
"You can lie," he said.
"You're good at it.
Almost convincing."
His fingers brushed her wrist.
Just a whisper of touch—
But it burned her.
She gasped.
Soft.
Sharp.
Like betrayal.
"But not to me."
He stepped in, closer,
pressing her back until the tree met her spine.
He didn't touch her—
But he didn't need to.
His body was a breath from hers.
Too close.
Not close enough.
"I see it," he said,
his voice a low flame,
"The way your eyes beg for something you swore you'd never want again."
Her breath came fast and shallow.
Trapped in his gaze.
The air between them burned.
"Even if I don't get it… even if you don't get it…"
His voice dropped, a flicker away from breaking.
Eyes on her lips.
Then back to her eyes.
"…you don't hate me, Spring."
A beat.
"You never did."
She said nothing. Couldn't.
Not to that.
Instead—
Her hand moved slowly to her side, fingers curling around something.
Then she pulled it out.
A small object, unmistakable.
His eyes dropped instantly. His eyes opened.
The charm.
He stared at it like it was a ghost.
"Where did you get that?" His voice was barely audible.
Spring held it tighter for a moment, then loosened her grip, letting it rest in her palm.
"I met someone," she said softly. "In the Veil."
His gaze snapped back to hers.
"A child," she added. "A version of you."
His shoulders tensed.
"He didn't know who I was," she continued, her voice thin and quiet. "But he was crying. Alone. Said someone broke his monocle. He said it helped him see, and someone… ruined it."
Fall looked like he might break.
"I fixed it," she said, looking away now. "And when I did… he gave me this."
She opened her fingers so he could see it again.
"Said he was saving it for something important."
Fall lowered his head slightly. The room—or world—seemed to hold its breath.
"And you kept it?" he asked, his voice nearly swallowed by the silence between them.
"… yes."
Her voice wavered.
"I didn't understand what it meant at first. But when I held it—"
She swallowed.
"It sensed you."
The quiet that followed was immense.
Almost sacred.
Fall closed his eyes.
Just for a second.
When he opened them again,
he looked straight at her.
"So…" he said softly,
"…you missed me."
Her eyes snapped up to his—
Wide.
Sharp.
The heat in her voice was instant.
Defensive.
"It's not like that."
He tilted his head.
Just slightly.
Studying her.
"Isn't it?"
He stepped forward—
One last step.
Closing the distance.
If there had been any left.
She could feel every breath he took.
The weight of his stare settled on her skin like heat.
He looked at her like he was waiting.
For her to give in.
But she didn't.
Her voice came low.
Measured.
"I need you to be very honest with me, Fall."
His eyes flickered.
A smirk curled faintly at the edge of his mouth—
Like whatever was coming next would be very interesting.
"Hmm?"
A pause.
Then—
"…Did someone break your monocle?"