Page 171 of Tower of Ash and Darkness
“I’m not that easy to get rid of,” I manage, forcing a weak smile.
He huffs a quiet laugh, but the heaviness in his gaze doesn’t lift.
“Lailah...” he starts, but whatever he was going to say fades into the crackle of the fire.
The silence returns, thicker now, as if it’s holding all the things we can’t bring ourselves to say. Instead, we sit there, side by side, watching the flames dance in the darkness. And though the quiet feels heavy, it doesn’t feel unbearable. It feels like the beginning of something neither of us fully understands yet.
When I wake again, the fire in the cave has burned low. The air is heavy, still, and yet I feel lighter somehow. Strength, tentative and fragile, hums faintly through my limbs. Pushing the thick fur blanket aside, I rise slowly, my legs trembling as they test their newfound stability. The silence wraps around me, too quiet. My gaze driftstoward the mouth of the cave, where a pale, silvery glow spills in, beckoning me.
The night air greets me as I step outside, cool and crisp, brushing against my skin.
And then I see him.
Casper stands at the edge of the cave, his silhouette outlined by the brilliance of the moon. The sky behind him is a sea of stars, their light caught in his dark hair, the lines of his face softened by shadow. My breath catches. He looks like he belongs here, a part of the night itself—untamed, eternal. But then his head turns, as though he’s felt my presence, and his piercing green eyes meet mine.
“You should still be resting,” he says.
“I couldn’t stay inside any longer,” I reply. “The air... it feels different out here.”
He watches me for a moment, searching my face before nodding toward the rocky path leading upward. Without a word, he begins to climb, his steps confident and measured. After a few strides, he pauses and turns back, his eyes locking onto mine with a quiet intensity, as if waiting for me to make a move. Then, slowly, he extends his hand.
I glance down at my scarred hand, hesitation flaring inside me. The familiar urge to pull back grips me, but his patience is unwavering. The strength in his silent offering pushes past my doubt. With a trembling breath, I place my hand in his. His fingers close around mine, as though silently promising he won’t let go. He doesn’t look at the scars, doesn’t acknowledge them in any way, and the quiet acceptance in that gesture loosens something tight within me.
Without a word, he continues upward, his steps steady as though the weight of the world doesn’t touch him. I follow, the pull of him irresistible, like gravity itself. The climb is steep, the path uneven, but I welcome the strain in my muscles, the burn in my lungs. It feels like a reminder that I’m alive, that I’m still whole.
When we reach the summit, the world unfolds before me like a dream. The cliff’s edge seems to stretch into infinity, suspended between earth and sky. Above, the stars glitter like shards of ice, coldand distant, their light spilling across the dark expanse. The moon hangs low, luminous and ancient, casting a silver sheen over the landscape below.
Casper stands at the edge, his back to me, his gaze fixed on the horizon. The wind pulls at his cloak, at the dark strands of his hair, but he remains still, as if rooted to the stone itself.
I step closer, the beauty of the night stealing my breath.
“Why did you bring me here?” I ask softly, my voice almost swallowed by the vastness around us.
He turns to me then, his eyes reflecting the starlight, a quiet intensity in their depths.
“Because you needed to remember this,” he says. “What it feels like to be free.”
His words strike something deep within me, something I’d buried long ago. I look past him, to the endless expanse of sky and air, and my chest tightens with a sudden, aching sense of wonder.
He extends a hand toward me, palm up, waiting.
“Come,” he says, his voice softer now, almost a whisper.
I hesitate, but only briefly. Then I take his hand, his fingers warm and steady as they intertwine mine. He leads me to the very edge of the cliff, the drop below dizzying, and together we stand there, suspended between the heavens and the earth.
“The stars seem closer here,” I murmur, my voice barely audible.
“They always do,” he replies, his gaze still fixed upward.
As the moon casts its silver glow over the rocks, I feel his gaze, constant and gentle. It pulls at me, an invisible thread I can’t break.
Casper moves with quiet care, his hand gently wrapping around mine, guiding me to a smooth patch on the rocky formation. He lowers me slowly, and we both lie back, the cold stone against our backs softened by the thin blanket of air between us and the vast sky above. The stars gleam like scattered jewels, their ancient light whispering across the heavens.
I want to pull my hand back, hide the scars from him, but his touch is too tender, his eyes too steady. Slowly, he lifts my hand,pressing a kiss to the roughened skin, his lips soft and reverent against the marks that I’ve always feared would drive others away.
A shiver dances down my spine, and a tear, unexpected and unbidden, slips free from my eye. It falls silently, tracing a path down my cheek, and before I can even think to wipe it away, his hand is there. Casper’s thumb brushes it away, a touch so gentle it feels like a prayer. He leans in, kissing my forehead, his warmth surrounding me as he holds me in place.
His fingers curl around my hand, guiding it to his chest, right above the steady beat of his heart. It thunders beneath my palm, a rhythm that calms the chaos inside me. I close my eyes, leaning into him, grounding myself in his touch.
