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Vel couldn’t breathe.
There was air in her lungs, she knew there was, but it felt wrong. Heavy. Thick. She swallowed it down like tar, and it stuck to her ribs, clinging to her bones like something rotten. Her heart pounded. A frantic, shivering rhythm that rattled in her chest, that beat against her sternum like it wanted out.
Something was wrong.
It had been wrong for a long time, she thought, but it was so difficult to remember when it had started. The feeling had crept up on her, slow, insidious, curling around her thoughts like ivy until she had mistaken its presence for comfort. Evelyn’s hands had been cold when she touched her, but Vel had never shivered. Had never pulled away. Had only leaned in, eager and yearning and desperate, even as the voice in the back of her mind screamed at her to run.
Run.
She had been running all her life. From pain, from fear, from grief too large to hold in her hands. She had run into battle, into danger, into things she could not name, with the reckless abandon of someone who did not know how to be still. And yet—when Evelyn touched her, she had stopped. Let herself be caught. Let herself drown.
Evelyn had smiled at her like she was something precious. Had whispered her name like it meant something. Had held her with reverence, with possession, with something dark and dangerous curling at the edges of her voice.
Vel had loved her for it.
(Or she had thought she had. Had wanted to. Had convinced herself of it, because it was easier than admitting the truth. Easier than admitting that the warmth was a shackle, that the touch was a cage, that the whispers were chains wrapped around her throat.)
Run.
She dug her nails into her palms. The pain was sharp, bright. It cut through the fog in her mind, through the sickly sweet haze of Evelyn’s presence, and she clung to it. Her breath came faster, ragged, as her pulse roared in her ears. The room around her felt too large and too small all at once, pressing in on her from all sides.
Evelyn was watching her.
She always was.
She turned, slowly, and there Evelyn stood, framed in flickering candlelight. Her robes were pristine, untouched by dust or time, the emerald fabric clinging to her like a second skin. She looked divine. Haunting. The way she always did. The way Vel had come to expect.
The way Vel had come to fear.
Run.
Evelyn tilted her head, studying her. “What is it, darling?”
Her voice was smooth, syrupy, wrapping around Vel like silk and steel. It made her shudder.
Nothing. Everything. The weight in her chest, the scream stuck in her throat, the creeping horror slithering through her veins. The blood under her fingernails. The way the air felt thick with something unspoken, something unseen.
“You’re shaking,” Evelyn murmured, stepping closer. “Let me help you.”
Vel’s breath hitched. Her instincts screamed at her to move, to step back, to put distance between them, but she couldn’t. Her feet felt rooted to the floor. Her body betrayed her, just as it always did around Evelyn. The part of her that ached for closeness, that yearned to be held, to be cherished, overpowered the part of her that knew better.
Evelyn touched her wrist, fingers ghosting over her pulse, and Vel swore she could feel her heartbeat falter. Stumble. Evelyn smiled.
“There you are,” she whispered, voice so gentle it almost made Vel weep. “I’ve got you.”
The worst part was that it felt true.
Vel closed her eyes.
Run.
She could still remember the first time she had woken up in Evelyn’s arms. The way the fear had still clung to her, thick and cloying, the way her breath had stuttered, and yet—the way Evelyn had held her. The way her fingers had threaded through Vel’s hair, had traced idle patterns against her skin, soothing and possessive all at once.
“It was just a dream,” Evelyn had murmured against her temple.
But it hadn’t been. It never was.
The fear never left. The screaming in the back of her mind never stopped. The feeling of wrongness clung to her like a shadow, lurking just out of sight, waiting for her to turn her head and catch it in the corner of her eye.
But she never did. She never let herself.
Not until now.
Not until she opened her eyes and saw Evelyn for what she was.
The shadows curled around her feet, twisting and writhing like living things. Her smile was sharp, too sharp, and her eyes gleamed with something hungry, something endless. The face Vel had loved, the voice that had whispered comfort into her ear, the hands that had traced devotion into her skin—they were a lie.
Run.
Or maybe they weren’t. Maybe Evelyn had never lied at all. Maybe she had simply told the truth in a way Vel had been too blind to understand. Maybe she had always been the abyss waiting to swallow her whole, and Vel had simply been too willing to fall.
She took a step back.
Evelyn’s expression didn’t change, but something in her eyes did.
“Darling,” she said, and it sounded like a warning.
Vel’s breath came in short, sharp gasps. Her hands clenched at her sides.
She thought of Florence and Kaze. Of the mission. Of the missing people. Of the emptiness left in their wake, not just their absence, but the utter, terrifying void where they should have been.
Consumed.
The word hit her like a blow, and suddenly, she understood.
Evelyn took a step forward. Vel turned and ran.
Ran.
But no matter how fast she ran, the weight of Evelyn's gaze clung to her like a shadow, stretching long and unshakable behind her.
Ran.
Ran.
Ran.
Was it freedom she was destined for? Or had she merely been running in circles, always destined to end up back in Evelyn’s waiting arms?
Run.