Luna
I think we’ve fought every imaginable creature in this gods-forsaken place today.
Twice.
The Void doesn’t believe in rest. It doesn’t believe in exhaustion. It only believes in taking. In wearing us down one fight at a time, stretching out every battle until it becomes too much, until muscles give, magic flickers, and instincts slip.
And I feel it.
Every part of me is worn thin, my body leaden, my mind drifting between wakefulness and something dangerously close to collapse.
If it weren’t for Elias, I wouldn’t be on this horse at all.
Not that he seems to mind.
"You know," Elias muses, adjusting his grip on me, "for someone who usually fights like a pissed-off hellcat, you make a very convincing damsel in distress."
I make a noise against his neck that is neither a protest nor an agreement, just sound.
Elias exhales dramatically, like this is some massive inconvenience for him and not just another excuse to talk. "It’sfine. This is fine. Carrying you is my burden to bear. My curse. My cross to carry, if you will. You’re my sin, Luna."
I don’t even have the energy to groan. "Please shut up."
"Absolutely not." He shifts slightly, adjusting me so I don’t slide off entirely. "Besides, if you pass out, who will hear the greatest story ever told?"
"If you tell me about the time you allegedly seduced a siren, I swear to the gods.. "
"First of all," he interrupts, "I did not seduce her. It was mutual seduction. And secondly, no, this story is way better."
I mumble something that might be "fine" or "kill me now."
He takes it as permission.
"So," Elias begins, "Caspian has always been painfully hard to mess with, which is a crime, honestly. No fun. Always sees it coming. So naturally, Silas and I made it our life’s work to change that."
He pauses dramatically, then drops his voice lower, as if telling me a great, dark secret. "And we finally found his weakness."
I blink blearily against his throat. "…Which was?"
"Horses."
That startles a weak, breathless laugh from me. "Horses?"
"Not in general," Elias clarifies, grinning. "Just one horse. A specific horse. We called her Widowmaker. Meanest fucking thing I’ve ever seen. Hated Caspian specifically. Didn’t mind anyone else. Just him. We still don’t know why. Maybe she sensed the angst. Maybe she was sent by the gods to humble him. We may never know."
I shake my head, already regretting engaging. "Elias. "
"Anyway," he barrels on, "Silas and I had a brilliant idea. Caspian was due for a hunt, right? And we thought, ‘Wouldn’t it be hilarious if the only horse available to him was Widowmaker?’"
I snort. "No."
"Yes," Elias says gleefully. "So we swapped the horses the night before. Moved his actual one just out of sight. Widowmaker was saddled, ready to go. Caspian didn't notice until it was too late."
"What happened?"
"Ah, well, see, that’s the best part." He leans in conspiratorially, like we’re sharing some great, terrible sin. "Widowmaker let him get on. No issues. Perfectly docile. Which should have been the first red flag, honestly."
"And?"