Page 72 of Caelum

THIRTEEN

EREN

As I stared up at the ceiling, something inside me relaxed when Eve murmured in her sleep and turned her face into my side. I lay on her left, and to her right, Stefan snored away.

The sounds were both relaxing and comforting, yet also capable of making me envious.

How would it feel to be able to rest with this girl who had brought enemies together? Who was a powerful creature locked inside a young woman, capable of making the world itself shake at her might?

She rested. Slept. Even though she’d been scared earlier at Bartlett and Avalina’s revelations, she was here, cuddling into me.

The deep desire to rest was a bitter ache inside me that I couldn’t withhold, and in the dark hush of the Chelsea cottage, with its quaint interior, low ceilings, and too little space, I was safe. In a safe place where sleep shouldn’t have been an issue, but deep inside, I felt like I was at war.

Always at war.

My eyes felt gritty, my eyelids ached with the need to lower, but I fought the urge, fought it because when I closed them, I knew my personal demons would overcome me.

I didn’t even realize I let them fall, didn’t know I was asleep until I was there again.

In the darkness. My body was a heap of bruised tissue and meat that lay awkwardly between the rubble of what had once been a relatively happy home .

The heat, and the flies, and the stench assailed my senses next. They were so powerful. So strong. My hands ached again with the need to free myself, and yet, the weight above me was so incredibly overwhelming, I was going nowhere.

Then, the sound came next. My mother weeping. Her pain evident, and her distress making her plead with Allah—not for her safety, but my own. She never seemed to hear me when I called to her, was in some kind of daze that told me she was badly injured. My father didn’t speak, didn’t whisper a word, but I heard the low keening sounds that told me he was hurting too, just without the energy to release a single word.

Tears came next. Flooding me, drowning me. I was submerged in them. Covered in rocks, suffocating on tears. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move, couldn’t?—

“Eren.”

The whisper, the soft, gentle lullaby of my name had me tensing, but it stopped my thrashing.

“Sleep, Eren. Rest. For me.”

It was so quiet, and the words were so simple and beautifully uttered that something inside me reacted like a cat would to a gentle stroke by its owner. I wanted to nuzzle that voice. Embrace it. Because it represented everything I’d lost. Home. Love. Warmth.

Inwardly, I shuddered as my subconscious fought the ease I felt. How could I trust the words, trust the sentiment when I’d never had peace before now? And yet, it came. As those feelings were stirred by a song that was almost soundless, a gentle hum made everything inside me soften and gentle. Relaxing into the sheets, into a woman’s arms like the demon slayer she was, I slept.

For the second night in a run, I sank into her, my haven.

My peace.