Thena ran.

  Three quick steps down the corridor and then she crashed into Selene—

  The impact drove them both back against the door.

  Thena's arms wrapped tight around her, face burying against the dark green coat, hands fisting in the fabric like she was drowning and this was the only thing keeping her above water.

  "W-where were you?" Her voice cracked—raw, desperate, breaking on every word. "Where were you? You didn't come yesterday, you always come—"

  Her grip tightened, fingers twisting the fabric harder.

  "And then this morning—everyone saying there was fire at the ruins and people died and I couldn't find you anywhere and I kept asking and no one knew and I thought—"

  She choked.

  "I thought you were gone—I thought you were—"

  Her fist came up and struck Aldric's shoulder once. Weak. Desperate.

  "Where were you?"

  Again. Harder.

  "Where were you? Where were you?"

  Each strike was punctuated by a sob, her whole body shaking against Selene's chest, tears soaking through the fabric, her voice dissolving into something animal and broken.

  A chill crept through Selene's veins, an icy shiver that felt almost like a distant heartbeat. Then, as if in response to her unease, the blood within her surged—a dark tide roiling against her consciousness.

  "Hah. Look at it," the blood laughed softly, a sound like dry bones rubbing together. "Trembling like a kicked dog. Go on, tell the brat she's hugging a corpse. Tell her daddy is nothing but fuel now. I want to see the face she makes when she breaks."

  Selene's hands hovered in the air, halfway to embracing, halfway to pushing away, caught between tenderness and horror. Thena's warmth pressed against her, but it felt distant.

  She tried to speak. Her jaw worked. Her throat moved.

  "Thena, I... I can't... it's not..."

  The words came out jumbled. Nonsense.

  Thena pulled back just enough to look up at Aldric's face—her eyes red-rimmed, tear-streaked, searching.

  "What? Father, what's wrong? Are you hurt?"

  Selene's vision blurred.

  No. No no no—

  She felt it—the heat building behind her eyes. The pressure. Blood trying to escape the way tears would.

  She squeezed her eyes shut, turning her face away sharply. Her mouth clenched so hard her teeth ached. Every muscle in the borrowed body locked rigid.

  Not here. Not now. Don't let her see. Don't—

  "Father?"

  Selene pulled away, stumbling sideways along the wall, one hand coming up to cover her eyes. Her shoulders hunched.

  "I'm... I'm fine," she managed, the words thick and strained. "Just—give me a moment."

  "You're not fine! Something's wrong, I can see—"

  "Please."

  The word came out desperate, almost a command.

  Thena stopped.

  Silence fell between them.

  Selene kept her face turned away, hand pressed over her eyes, fighting with everything she had to keep the blood from spilling. Her breath came in shallow, controlled pulls.

  Behind her closed eyelids, the pressure slowly eased.

  She counted heartbeats. Five. Ten. Fifteen.

  Tick-tick. Tick-tick.

  The watch’s rhythm grounded her. She lowered her hand at last.

  Thena stood a few feet away now, her arms wrapped around herself. Watching. Waiting. Her confusion had deepened, painted across every line of her face.

  "I'm sorry," Selene said quietly. Still not looking directly at her. "It's been a difficult night."

  "What happened at the ruins?" Thena asked.

  The question hung in the air.

  Selene's hands curled into fists at her sides. What could she say? What should she say?

  "There was... an accident. The fire. I barely—"

  She stopped. Even the truth wouldn't form properly.

  For a moment, just a moment, she let herself forget why she was here. She forgot the door behind her, the search she needed to conduct, the answers she was hunting.

  Thena had thrown herself at Aldric with such desperate relief. Had cried against his chest. Had been so afraid he was gone.

  And in that embrace Selene had felt something she couldn’t name.

  Warmth. Connection. The weight of being missed.

  She looked at Thena now, really looked. Saw the worry in those amber eyes. The tear-stained cheeks.

  "I'm here now," she said softly. It was all she could offer. All that felt even remotely true.

  Thena stepped forward again, slower this time, cautious. Her hands reached out, hovering near Aldric’s arms.

  "Can I...?"

  Selene didn't pull away.

  Thena’s arms wrapped around her again, gentler now. Not desperate. Just holding.

  And Selene stood there, trapped in a dead man's skin, letting herself be held by someone who would hate her if she knew the truth.

  They stood there, holding each other.

  Thena’s breathing gradually steadied against Selene’s chest, each shuddering inhale smoothing into something calmer. Her grip on the dark green coat loosened.

  Selene’s hands had finally settled on Thena’s shoulders, awkward but there.

  The corridor remained quiet. Distant voices echoed from the main hall, but here they existed in a pocket of silence.

  Thena pulled back slowly.

  Her face was blotchy and tear-streaked, spectacles slightly askew. She reached up to adjust them.

  "I’m sorry," she said quietly. "I shouldn’t have—"

  "It’s all right," Selene replied.

  Thena nodded, wiping at her cheeks. She took another breath, composing herself.

  Then she looked up.

  Her amber eyes widened.

  "Father—Selene." The name came out urgent. "I haven't seen her anywhere. She should be in lecture right now with Professor Halvern but—" Her voice cracked. "With the fire at the ruins and Uncle Eldric going there—she must have gone with him, right? I know it was her birthday—"

  Thena's hand gripped Aldric's arm.

  "Please. Did you see her?"

  I'm right here.

  I'M RIGHT HERE.

  The thought screamed through Selene's mind.

  I'm standing right in front of you.

  Her throat closed. The words wouldn't come.

  "Father?"

  Selene turned away sharply, one hand pressing against her forehead.

  Say something.

  "I don't know."

  "But you were there—"

  "I said I DON'T KNOW."

  Too harsh. Too loud.

  Thena flinched.

  Silence fell between them again.

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Selene kept her face turned away, shoulders hunched. Every breath came shallow.

  Thena cared. Was desperate to know if she was safe.

  And Selene stood here. Right here. But she might as well be dead.

  "I'm sorry," Selene whispered. "The fire. Everything. I can't—"

  Thena's hand touched her shoulder. "It's alright."

  "But we need to look for her," Thena said, her voice gaining resolve. "Come—Professor Halvern's lecture should still be going. If she made it back, she'd be there. She wouldn't miss it."

  She tugged gently at Aldric's arm.

  "Please, Father. I need to know she's safe."

  Selene said nothing.

  Thena's fingers wrapped around her wrist, insistent.

  "Come on."

  Selene let herself be pulled away from the door—one step, then another—but her eyes stayed fixed on it.

  Eldric's door. Dark wood. Brass handle. The nameplate catching the light.

  All the answers she needed, waiting just beyond that threshold.

  And she was being led away from it, toward a lecture hall where she knew, with terrible certainty, that Selene would not be found.

  The lecture hall’s vaulted ceiling caught Professor Halvern’s voice and threw it back in measured echoes. Rows of wooden benches stretched before him, filled with apprentices bent over notebooks, their pens scratching across parchment.

  "—which brings us to the most peculiar discovery from last month's expedition. Within the deeper chambers, the survey team documented what appears to be metal wire embedded directly into the stone foundations. Not decorative ironwork, mind you, but thin filaments running through the walls themselves."

  He sketched a quick diagram on the board, intersecting lines forming a grid.

  "We've never encountered anything like it in previous ruins. The prevailing theory is that these wires somehow reinforced the structures, though the metallurgy required would have been—"

  The door burst open.

  Halvern's chalk paused mid-stroke. Heads turned throughout the hall. The scratching of pens ceased abruptly.

  Thena stood in the doorway, one hand still on the heavy oak door, her chest rising and falling from running. Behind her, Aldric's weathered figure filled the frame.

  "Miss Thena?" Halvern's silver eyebrows rose. "Professor Aldric?"

  Whispers rippled through the hall, bouncing off the stone walls like frantic birds. Selene caught fragments:

  "—wasn't he at the ruins?"

  "—thought the whole camp—"

  "—my father was there too—"

  Thena moved down the center aisle, her eyes scanning the rows of students. Left side. Right side. Back to left.

  "Professor Halvern, I'm sorry to interrupt, but have you seen Selene? She should be here—she's always here for your lectures."

  The old scholar’s expression shifted from surprise to concern. He glanced toward the third row on the left, where a particular seat sat conspicuously empty.

  "I assumed she was ill," he said slowly. "She's never missed—"

  Selene's eyes followed his to that empty seat. Third row. Left side. The wooden bench worn smooth where she always rested her notebook.

  A hand shot up in the back row.

  "Professor Aldric—"

  A young man stood abruptly, his face pale, eyes ringed with red. His voice cracked as he spoke.

  "Sir, have you—did you see my father? Marcus? He was supposed to return yesterday and—"

  His voice broke entirely.

  Another student rose from the corner, a girl.

  "My mother," she said, her words tumbling out desperate and quick. "She went as a field assistant. Please, someone must know something about—"

  "The fire—"

  "—how many survived—"

  "—why hasn't anyone told us—"

  Voices overlapped, rising in pitch. More students stood. The orderly lecture hall dissolved into chaos, the acoustics amplifying their panic into a deafening roar.

  Professor Halvern raised his hands. "Please, everyone, I understand you're worried, but—"

  "You were there!" The young man in the back pointed at Aldric, his hand shaking. "You made it back. You must have seen something!"

  Every eye in the lecture hall turned toward Selene.

  She stood very still in the doorway, wearing a dead man's face perfectly. Her throat worked. The words wouldn't come.

  "Look at them bleat," the voice in her blood murmured. "So loud for creatures so fragile. Tell them, little vessel. Tell them how their parents burned. Tell them they made kindling of the highest quality."

  Selene’s stomach churned. The silence stretched, heavy with expectation, with desperate hope, with barely contained grief.

  "I..." The word came out rough. Wrong. "There was fire. Confusion. I barely—"

  "But did you see them?" The girl's voice rose, breaking. "Please, just tell us if you saw them!"

  Selene’s hands curled into fists at her sides. A dozen faces stared at her, young and frightened, needing answers she couldn’t give.

  "Go on," the blood chuckled. "Break their hearts. It’s the only mercy you have left to give."

  "I don't know," she said finally, fighting the nausea rising in her throat. The words felt like stones in her mouth. "The smoke. Everything happened so fast. I lost track of—"

  "How can you not know?" The young man's voice cracked with anger now, echoing sharply off the vaulted ceiling. "You were there! You made it out! Why won't you just tell us what happened?"

  "That's enough!" Professor Halvern's voice cut through the rising panic with force. He struck his chalk against the board once—a sharp crack that silenced the room instantly.

  "I understand everyone is frightened. But Professor Aldric has clearly been through an ordeal. Pressing him for answers he doesn't have will help no one." He set the chalk down with deliberate care. "Class is dismissed. Go."

  No one moved.

  "Now—please."

  Slowly, reluctantly, the apprentices began gathering their things. The girl in the corner was crying openly now. The young man sat back down heavily, his head in his hands.

  They filed out in hushed, broken clusters, some glancing back at Aldric with accusation in their eyes.

  When the last student had gone, the silence felt suffocating.

  Thena stood in the center aisle, her amber eyes searching Aldric's face through her spectacles.

  She stepped forward slowly.

  "Father," she said quietly. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have—" Her voice softened. "You've been through something terrible. I can see that."

  Her hand reached out, resting gently on his arm.

  "Come. Let me help you. Have you eaten? When did you last rest?"

  The kindness in her voice stripped away Selene's defenses faster than the students' anger had.

  Selene's wanted to pull away, to maintain distance, but Thena's concern was so pure. So undeserved.

  "I'm fine," Selene managed.

  "You're not fine." Thena's grip tightened slightly. "Let's go somewhere quiet. Away from all this."

  She glanced toward the empty lecture hall, the scattered chairs, the chalk diagram still half-finished on the board.

  "I know where Selene likes to go when she needs to think," Thena said after a moment. "Maybe... maybe we could look there? Together? When you're ready?"

  She wasn't pressuring. Just offering. Giving Aldric the choice.

  Selene's hands remained at her sides.

  But Thena's eyes held such gentle concern.

  "Alright," she heard herself say.

  The Grand Steps descended in wide marble tiers from the Athenaeum's eastern entrance, offering an unobstructed view of Veilmouth below. The Arlen River cut silver through the city's heart. Beyond it, Lowtown's crooked rooftops crowded together beneath a haze of chimney smoke.

  Thena moved from tier to tier, her gaze sweeping across each level.

  "She comes here," she said. "When lectures end and she needs to think. She sits right—"

  She stopped on the fourth tier down.

  "Here."

  The step was no different from any other. Wide marble. Ancient stone. But Thena's certainty was absolute.

  She sat down slowly, her hands resting on the cold marble on either side. Waiting. As if Selene might materialize from thin air if she just remained still enough.

  Selene stood one tier above, looking down at the back of Thena's head. At the dark hair catching the afternoon light, strands lifting gently in the wind. At the slight slump of shoulders that spoke of a fear she was trying to contain.

  The thought came again, weaker this time, worn thin by repetition.

  I'm right here.

  How many more times before the words lost all meaning?

  She sat down heavily on the tier above, a safe distance away. Her elbows rested on her knees, Aldric's weathered hands clasped together.

  Silence stretched between them.

  Below, Veilmouth went about its business. Cart wheels clattered over cobblestones. Voices drifted up from the market squares. The Baron's manor stood in the distance, its clock tower dark and still, the last traces of smoke gone.

  "I don’t understand," Thena said finally. Her palm pressed flat against the cold marble, then lifted and fell again, a helpless gesture. "Why wouldn’t she be here?"

  Selene said nothing.

  Her hand moved unconsciously to her chest, where the watch rested.

  Tick-tick. Tick-tick.

  "Maybe she went home," Selene offered quietly. "To rest."

  "I already checked." Thena shook her head. "Her bed wasn't slept in. Her books... It's like she just... vanished."

  A cold pressure built behind Selene's eyes. She looked away quickly, focusing on the distant river.

  "The fire was bad," she said carefully. "Perhaps she's helping with—with survivors. Or searching for—"

  "Uncle Eldric?"

  The name hung in the air between them.

  Selene's forced herself to nod.

  Thena turned slightly, looking up at Aldric's profile.

  "You and Uncle Eldric haven't spoken properly in months," she said quietly. "I know you had... disagreements. About the Circle. About the excavations." She paused. "About Selene."

  Selene's attention sharpened. "What about her?"

  Thena hesitated, then shook her head. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't bring up old arguments. Not now."

  But Selene leaned forward slightly. "No. Tell me. What did we argue about?"

  Thena's brow furrowed. "You really don't remember? Father, you were so angry last month. You said Eldric was using her brilliance for his own theories. You said she deserved better than to be his—" She hesitated. "His legacy project."

  The words left her reeling.

  Using her.

  Legacy project.

  Selene stared at her hands and saw them trembling slightly.

  Thena smiled sadly. "She can be stubborn that way. When she loves someone, she refuses to see their faults."

  When she loves someone.

  The ache in Selene's chest deepened, twisting into something nausea-inducing.

  She thought of Eldric's rare smiles. The way he'd explain ancient texts late into the night, his excitement growing as pieces fell into place. The proud glint in his eyes when she grasped a difficult concept.

  Had he been really using me?

  "I didn't mean to upset you," Thena said softly. She reached out, her hand resting gently on Aldric's sleeve. "I know you cared about her too. In your own way."

  Selene looked down at the hand. Small. Warm. Trusting. Her own hand moved without conscious thought, settling over Thena’s where it rested on her sleeve.

  Beneath Selene skin, the ancient presence stirred. It purred.

  "Oh, this is rich," the voice drawled, velvety with amusement. "Comforting the daughter with the hand of the father you replaced. Such a twisted sense of humor, little vessel. I like it."

  Selene gritted her teeth against the voice.

  "We'll find her," she said quietly. "I promise."

  The words left her mouth before she could stop them—born from the combined weight of Thena’s revelation and the blood’s quiet amusement.

  It was the cruelest lie she'd told yet.

  "Another lie," the blood chuckled. "You're getting good at this."

  They sat together in silence as afternoon light stretched long across the marble steps. Below, Veilmouth's shadows grew deeper.

  Finally, Thena stood. She brushed at her skirts, composing herself.

  "I should check the library. And maybe send word to—" She stopped mid-thought, her brow furrowing. "Father, why were you at Uncle Eldric's study earlier?"

  Selene breathing faltered.

  "I saw you," Thena continued, her tone shifting to something more careful. Uncertain. "Your hand was on the door handle. You were about to go in."

  "I thought..." Thena's voice grew quieter. "I thought you said you'd never enter Uncle Eldric's study. After your last argument, you told me you were done. That you wouldn't cross that threshold again even if he begged you."

  Selene's mind raced. What argument? What boundary had Aldric sworn not to cross?

  "Things change," she managed. "Given the circumstances—"

  "What circumstances?" Thena's amber eyes were sharp now behind her spectacles. Questioning. "Father, what happened at those ruins? Why won't you tell me anything? And why do you keep looking away from me?"

  Selene stood slowly, Aldric's weathered face carefully neutral.

  "I'm tired," she said. It was the only truth she had left. "The fire. The smoke. Everything is... confused."

  Thena studied her for a long moment. Then nodded, though doubt still lingered in her expression.

  "You should rest." She managed a weak smile. "I'll keep looking for Selene. And I will find her—" Her voice strengthened with forced optimism. "I know she's alright. She has to be."

  She turned to go, then paused.

  "Father? Whatever you're looking for in Uncle Eldric's study..." She looked back over her shoulder. "I hope you find it."

  Then she was gone, disappearing up the steps and into the Athenaeum's vast halls.

  Selene remained standing on the marble tier, watching Lowtown's shadows lengthen across the river.

  The wind picked up, stronger now, tugging at the dark green coat, whipping strands of black hair across her vision. She didn’t brush them away. She just stood there, gazing out over Veilmouth as the city prepared for evening.

  The pocket watch ticked steadily against her.

  Tick-tick. Tick-tick.

  Her gaze dropped slowly. Aldric's hands hung at her sides. Her breath came shallow.

  "Look at that," the blood voice whispered, a sound like tearing silk. "She's running off to save a ghost. And here you stand, wearing her father like a cheap coat. Hah. You mortals and your little tragedies... it’s almost endearing how hard you try to pretend you haven't already lost."

  Selene closed her eyes.

  "No," she breathed.

  But the word felt hollow against the gathering dusk.

  She turned from the view, her movements slow and deliberate. The Athenaeum’s halls waited behind her, marble corridors leading back to that dark wooden door with its brass handle.

  Eldric's study.

  The answers she needed lay beyond that threshold. And this time, no one would interrupt her.