We left Yara's realm just after dawn. The sky was bruised with gold, soft and silent, pretending to be beautiful. Malvor kissed her cheek like they were old lovers parting after a perfect night. She winked, smug and unbothered. I didn't look back. The portal swallowed me, salt and silk and secrets dissolving into Arbor's familiar warmth. Home. Kitchen. The scent of wood and coffee, not sea-spray and candle smoke.
I made the coffee. Chocolate, cream, coffee, always the same order. This time I poured too much coffee. Maybe by accident. Maybe not. I only stirred twice instead of three. My hand was steady. My chest wasn't. I carried the mugs in with a smile that nearly felt real.
"Morning, baby cakes," Malvor said, hair wild, eyes soft with sleep.
"Morning." I kissed his temple, handed him the mug, curled against him like I belonged there.
He sipped, grimaced. "Bitter. You angry with me, Annie Pie?"
I smirked. "Wouldn't you like to know." He laughed, kissed my cheek. Took it as a joke. Took it as love. He always did. To him, I was adorable in the morning. Wrapped in his shirt, hair damp, coffee in hand like we were normal. Like last night hadn't happened at all.
"What should we do today?" he asked. "Chaos? Cuddles? Catastrophe?"
"Snow," I said. Too quick. Too bright.
He hesitated just a fraction. Then grinned. "Snow it is."
Arbor obeyed, eager to play house with us. Flakes fell like powdered sugar. Trees glistened. A hill waited for laughter. I threw the first snowball. "You're going down," I told him, my voice too light.
He clutched his chest. "Treason!"
We built forts. We attacked, ambushed, toppled into snowdrifts with shrieks of laughter. For a while, the hollow inside me froze solid. For a while, I forgot. He kissed me with snow melting between our mouths. Warm hands on my back. I smiled into it. And he believed it. I almost did too. He crowned me Empress of Ice. Betrayed me mid-coronation. I chased him down the hill. He tumbled dramatically, begging mercy. I didn't give it. We rolled in the snow, tangled and breathless, joy spilling out of me like I had practiced it in a mirror. For a heartbeat, just one, I wasn't a vessel. Not a rune-etched relic. Not a weapon. Not this broken thing. Just a woman laughing with a man in the snow.
Later, the couch sagged beneath me. My clothes were damp. Arbor pressed a mug of cocoa into my hands like it could fix me. Malvor was asleep in the other room, snoring, smug, wrapped like a burrito in his blankets. The fire snapped. The house hummed. Watching. Always watching. I stared at the flames. Waiting for warmth to mean something. It didn't. Something had been misplaced. Left in a coral bed between a moan that wasn't mine and a smile that didn't fit my face. I'd find it eventually. I always did. Not tonight.
Tonight I sat in silence and let it name me whatever it wanted. Outside, snow kept falling. Soft. Steady. Unbothered. I touched the rune at my hip. Nothing. Not even a flicker.
"You're glowing," he'd said. But the light hadn't been mine. It never was. I closed my eyes. Didn't cry. Didn't move. Let the quiet eat me. It always did.