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Polly had called it out first.
“Sasha didn’t thank the swamp for food.”
The words echoed like a shot through the home. Sasha’s head snapped up, her jaw clenched so tightly it looked painful. She stared at everyone around the table, stunned. Offended. Already fuming.
“No. I didn’t thank the fucking dirt for sending us a brain damaged bug. In case you forgot, we are stranded in a hellscape with no way of getting home, not on spring fucking break. What is even happening right now? What is wrong with all of you?”
Her voice cracked on the last syllable. Silence fell, but it wasn’t peaceful—it was electric. Everyone froze, glancing at each other, unsure how to react. Marcy’s eyes flitted nervously between Sasha and the others, like she could physically hold the tension back by sheer will.
“It’s fine, guys,” Marcy said quickly, trying to break the ice with calm reason. “She doesn’t have to—”
“Oh, shut up, Marcy.”
Sasha cut her off with venom, and Marcy flinched as though struck. Sasha’s voice was bitter. Accusatory.
“You were part of it, too. I mean, are we really not going to talk about this? We just howl at the moon and eat bugs now? And somehow I’m the one who's acting crazy?”
“Sasha,” Anne warned. Her voice was careful. Measured. Pleading, even. “Calm down...”
“Don’t fucking tell me to calm down!”
Sasha’s fury erupted. Her eyes zeroed in on Anne now, her former anchor, now a target.
“What were you going to do to that toad guard on the last mission, Anne?”
Anne flinched, recoiling like the words were knives. Things had gotten out of hand last time. Her mouth opened, closed. She stared at her lap.
“I—I don’t know,” she said, voice small. Fragile. “I don’t remember...”
“Bullshit.”
Sasha took a step forward, eyes wide and wild. Her voice cracked with disbelief.
“You had a knife to his throat! Jesus Christ, if we hadn’t stopped you, you would have kille—”
“Shut up, just shut up!”
Anne's voice exploded from her like a dam breaking. Her hands clenched into fists at her sides. Her face flushed red—anger, shame, heartbreak all tangled together.
“None of this would have happened if it wasn’t for you!”
The air froze.
“Somehow it's all my fault we're here? Marcy is just as guilty as I am, Anne.”
Sasha’s voice dripped with derision. She looked around at the others, her mouth twisted in a half-mocking smile.
“Wow. The irony...”
She turned her whole body toward Anne again.
“But why blame Marcy, right Anne? You're not jealous of her, are you? You've always been jealous of me.”
A chill swept through the house like a cold wind. Anne stood stock still, her mouth hanging open.
“You read my journals,” she said. The realization hit her like ice water. “It was you.”
Sasha’s eyes gleamed, but she said nothing. Anne's expression collapsed into disbelief. Betrayal.
Sasha started, “How could you? I thought you were my—you don’t even care about things like leading.”
Anne shook her head slowly, her voice hollow now. Distant.
“How would you know? You’re so obsessed with yourself, I’m surprised you’re aware other people even exist. You know you never even asked if I wanted to steal the music box? You just assumed I’d do whatever you wanted. You tell me what to wear, what to do, who to hang out with. I don’t even like half the things you think I like! But you just... get everything you want. All the time. Like it’s nothing.”
Sasha’s eyes narrowed, her face twitching with rage.
“Oh my god, you are such a cliché.”
She spat the words.
“Is the sad little sidekick mad? Did she get forced to live in my shadow? Poor Anne. It must be hard being this jealous all the time.”
Anne’s mouth curled in disgust. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing.
“You’re so jealous you can hardly breathe,” Sasha added, twisting the knife.
Anne blinked. “Are you... quoting Beaches at me right now?”
“What? No! Well, not intentionally...”
“I’m not jealous of you.”
Anne’s voice dropped. The heat left it, but it cut even deeper.
“I feel sorry for you. Because you’re weak. And deep down, I think you know it. This was actually a lucky break for you, wasn’t it? I’m sure everyone’s so fucking sad about losing their perfect princess, and they’ll never know how tragic and boring and insecure you really are. And that St. James was the best your life was ever gonna get.”
The room felt colder than ever.
Sasha stood frozen. Her breath caught in her throat.
“Fuck you.”
It landed with finality. Her voice cracked around the edges.
They stood in absolute stillness, staring each other down. Eyes locked. Anne’s chest rose and fell rapidly.
Sasha’s lip trembled. “I can’t be around you right now. I can’t even look at you.”
“That sounds like your problem." Anne’s voice was low. Icy. Calculated. “So maybe, you should leave.”
Sasha’s face went pale. She looked around, searching for someone to back her up. A lifeline.
Nothing.
“Okay, hold on,” Sprig said, nervous now, stepping forward. “Nobody’s going—”
“Stay out of it, Spring,” Anne cut in sharply.
Sasha’s hands fell limply to her sides. She blinked back tears.
Then her jaw set. Her spine straightened.
“You know what? FINE.”
She turned, stomped toward her bedroll, and began gathering her blanket and supplies in erratic, angry motions. Her back was stiff, her eyes glassy.
“Sasha. Wait—” Marcy reached for her, voice cracking.
Sasha whipped around.
“Don’t act like this isn’t what you’ve wanted all along.” Then her gaze locked onto Anne. “I don’t even know who you are anymore.”
Anne’s reply was flat. Detached.
“Maybe you never did.”
The door slammed behind her.
Outside, the cold bit instantly at Sasha’s skin. The wind howled like it knew something she didn’t. She threw her bedding down and let out a sound of rage and sorrow that echoed through the trees. Her breath fogged in front of her, trembling as hard as her hands. She dropped to her knees and started building a fire.
Inside, Anne stood at the attic window, watching the snowfall start again. Pale moonlight bathed her face in blue.
“Hey.”
Anne turned around. Marcy stood at the top of the stairs. Her hands were fidgeting, and her face was weary. Worried.
“This is dumb, Anne. Just go talk to her.”
Anne looked away.
“No. That’s just giving her what she wants. I'm done being walked over.”
So she laid down instead. Curled into herself. Let the night swallow her.
Outside, Sasha’s fire crackled faintly. She sat curled in her blanket, but it wasn’t enough. Her teeth chattered. The world blurred around the edges.
Then—
“Hey.”
She blinked.
Anne stood in front of her, breath misting between them, eyes soft.
“This is dumb. I’m sorry, okay? I’m so, so sorry. We have bigger fish to fry then some stupid jealous battle. Just come inside. Please?”
Sasha blinked up at her. Her shoulders fell. For a moment, she didn’t speak.
Then she took Anne’s hand.
They stepped back into the house together.
The warmth inside wrapped around them. No one said anything—just smiles, nods, and relief.
Polly came forward and wrapped a blanket over Sasha’s shoulders like it was the easiest thing in the world.
“Thanks,” Sasha murmured. “It’s freezing out there...”
Anne walked her to the fire. Sasha sat. Sprig handed her a mug.
“Here. This will help.”
Sasha held it in both hands. It radiated warmth.
“I’m so tired...” she whispered. Then took a cautious sip.
Her eyes lit up.
“Hot chocolate? How? Where did you find this?”
She took another sip. And another.
Anne crouched next to her, watching.
“Does it matter?”
Sasha looked at her, confused, but grateful.
“Anne, I—”
“It’s okay,” Anne whispered. “It’s all going to be okay. I love you, Sasha.”
Voices echoed softly around the room.
“We all love you, Sasha.”
Sasha blinked slowly. Something in the air felt strange. Off.
The fire glowed too warmly. The chair she sat in was almost too soft. Her limbs were heavy, like they were sinking.
Marcy was suddenly in front of her, smiling. On her head sat a strange helmet— black, with groups of glowing, hot eyes.
“It’s not as bad as you thought, is it?”
Sasha turned her head slowly, unsure, back to Anne.
Anne stared back at her, eyes glassy.
“You’re the best friend I ever had. You know that, right?”
Sasha nodded, dazed. “I know.”
But behind Anne, something shifted.
A massive silhouette. Cold, imposing. Watching.
“We’re so glad you’re joining us,” the Core said. “We’ve been waiting for you.”
Sasha’s heart twisted in her chest.
Anne woke with a jolt. Her breath came in quick, sharp bursts. She sat up, eyes wild, and looked around.
Marcy was still asleep. Peaceful. Oblivious.
Anne swung her legs over the side of the bed and bolted up the ladder.
Outside the window, everything was white. The snow. The silence.
She stared through the fogged glass. Dread settled into her bones.
“No,” she whispered.
Then she was running. Stumbling through the door. The world outside was blank. Frozen. Quiet.
“Sasha!”
Her voice echoed into the woods.
She ran. Searched.
And then—
She found her.
Half-buried in snow, curled around herself.
Anne dropped to her knees, clawing at the snow with shaking hands.
And uncovered Sasha’s face. Her lips were blue. Her lashes frosted.
Her eyes didn’t open.
“No—!”
Anne’s scream tore out of her throat like an animal dying.
The others stood behind her now, frozen.
"SASHA!"
And the world went still.