Page 42

THE SHADOW

T he dawn filtering through Darkmoor forest felt jarring, too bright for the weight of the moment. My every step was slower than hers, my body aching from more than just my injuries.

Ava glanced back at me again, concern flickering in her eyes, but I shook my head with a faint smile. She didn’t need to worry.

She thought my lagging pace was because of my swollen eye or the sharp pain in my ribs, but that wasn’t it. Not entirely.

I was holding back on purpose. I needed these few moments to watch her—to memorize the way she moved through the forest, her fingertips brushing moss on ancient trees, her face lifting toward the lace of branches and the sky beyond.

She looked so young, so light, so free. And I wanted to keep that image of her, to burn it into my memory before everything changed.

I stayed just behind her, letting the dewy leaves brush against me, grounding me in the moment. The birdsong rising in the distance felt like a cruel serenade.

Eventually, she reached the edge of the grove near the passagetomb entrance, her figure bathed in light as her fingertips left the last tree. She took a few steps into the clearing before she noticed my absence.

When she turned back, silhouetted by the sun, I almost forgot how to breathe.

She was radiant—stronger than I’d ever seen her. And somehow, I knew the frightened girl who had walked into Blackthorn all those years ago was gone. She stood in the light, fearless, her future ahead of her.

I could almost see the childlike shadow of her past lingering in the woods beside me, and I knew it would stay with me, not her.

She didn’t need it anymore. She didn’t need me.

“Ciaran?” Ava called, her voice gentle but questioning. “Are you alright?”

I couldn’t speak at first, my chest tightening with emotions I didn’t dare name.

When she moved to come back to me, I finally found my voice. “I’m fine, rabbit.”

But even as the words left my mouth, I felt a tremor run through me.

Ava stepped closer, peering into the shadows where I stood.

“You’re trembling,” she said, concern deepening.

When she reached for me, I instinctively stepped back, leaning heavily against the nearest tree.

She rushed forward, her hands on me, and I closed my eyes against the warmth of her touch .

It was too much—too much to hold her when I knew I had to let her go.

“Let me help you,” she urged, trying to slip an arm under my shoulder. “It’s not far now.”

I pushed her away, not trusting myself to stay steady if she kept touching me.

“Goodbyes are never easy, are they?” I managed, forcing a faint smile.

“What? No.” Ava’s head shook violently, tears welling in her eyes. “ No .”

Her refusal felt like a dagger, but I couldn’t falter now. When she leaned into me, resting her ear against my chest, I gripped the back of her sweater tightly, grounding myself in her presence one last time.

“I know you’ve chosen Ty,” I whispered, the words tasting like ash.

She shook her head, but I held her close, not allowing her to meet my gaze.

“You’ve chosen him,” I repeated, quieter this time, as if saying it aloud would finally make me believe it.

I rested my bruised and bloodied cheek against the crown of her head, breathing in the faint, familiar scent of jasmine shampoo. The fragrance was bittersweet—a tether to the love I couldn’t keep, and the goodbye I wasn’t ready to say.

But that wasn’t the only reason I held her this way. I couldn’t bear to meet her gaze. Those gentle, heartbroken eyes would undo me, strip away the last fragments of resolve holding me together.

“Say it,” I murmured, my voice barely louder than the rustle of the leaves around us .

Her voice came, muffled and hesitant against my jacket. “Do I really have to?”

I closed my eyes, swallowing the lump in my throat. I didn’t want to hurt her any more than I already had. This wasn’t some cruel test, some twisted punishment to satisfy the darker corners of my soul. It wasn’t even about me clinging to pain like a lifeline.

I just needed to know. To hear it. To understand that it wasn’t a moment of confusion or desperation clouding her mind. That it was real, undeniable, and final .

I didn’t answer her, but my silence spoke volumes.

It was the same language we’d always shared. When midnight shadows stretched between us, words had always been secondary. Our silences—they had spoken first.

And now, in this moment, my silence was a plea. A surrender. A final request for the truth.

Her breath hitched as she finally said the words. “I’ve chosen Ty.”

A part of me shattered, but another part of me was strangely numb, as though my heart had prepared for this all along.

I nodded, holding her for a moment longer before gently pushing her away.

She didn’t resist this time, wrapping her arms around herself as she stepped back.

For a moment, we stood in silence, the sunlight creeping farther into the grove.

When I finally spoke, my voice was quiet. “I wonder if there’s a world where I could’ve been enough for you.”

“Ciaran— ”

“I know there isn’t,” I said, shaking my head. “But it’s nice to think about, isn’t it?”

Her gaze searched mine, and I saw the pain mirrored there.

“You gave yourself up to Ebony,” she whispered.

I nodded. “Too little, too late, eh?”

She tried to protest, but I cut her off.

“It’s okay. I understand. I always have.” My voice cracked as I added, “You were his. You always were.”

Her tears fell freely now, and I felt my own building behind my bruised eyes.

“It’s time for you to go,” I said softly, nodding toward the passagetomb entrance over her shoulder.

Ava’s breath caught.

“Wait.” Her voice wavered, brittle as the morning breeze. “Wait, this isn’t goodbye, is it? Not like a real goodbye.”

I forced a smile, but it was a weak, unconvincing thing, and I could see her fear deepen.

Fidgeting with the hem of my jacket—still stiff with dried blood—I replied, “It’s just something people say. We can say it, too.”

“But…” She bit into her lower lip, her eyes darting across my face as though trying to read my thoughts. “Where will you go?”

The breeze stirred the surrounding trees, their rustling a quiet whisper against the weight of her question. It felt cruel almost, how the sunlight warmed the earth, promising renewal while everything between us cracked and crumbled.

I steeled myself, drawing a hard line with my mouth. “I know the name of every single rotten one of them. Most would have fled before the authorities caught up to them. Their victims deserve… justice.”

My words were calm, deliberate, but I saw her flinch as if I’d raised my voice.

Her wide, searching eyes darted between mine, her brow furrowed. She was looking for the man she had known—the man who would never survive what lay ahead.

Ava’s voice dropped to a whisper. “You’re going after the Sochai.”

I didn’t respond. I didn’t have to.

The silence stretched between us, heavy and suffocating, as she wrapped her arms tightly around herself, shivering. “That’s a long, dark road to take, Ciaran.”

I laughed bitterly, the sound sharp and jagged.

“To take?” I repeated, my voice cracking with something between anger and resignation. “I’ve never left it. I’ve been walking this dark path since the day Adam Donahue dragged a beautiful little girl into the shadows of Blackthorn Hall.”

My fists clenched at the memory. I didn’t say the rest—that I hoped this journey would finally end it. That I wanted, needed, to sever myself from the darkness that bound me. To burn it all to the ground, every last piece of my father’s legacy.

Ava’s voice softened. “And after?”

Her question hit me like a punch to the chest.

She was looking at me with those wide, hopeful eyes, so much like the frightened girl I’d fallen in love with. It was almost enough to make me lie. To spin a sweet, comforting fiction .

But I couldn’t. Ty had rubbed off on me more than I cared to admit.

“If I were a stronger man…” I hesitated, my gentle smile faltering as I stared at the ground. “I’d come back.”

“No,” Ava began, her voice rising with protest, but I raised a hand to stop her.

“It would be too painful, Ava. Being around you two together… happy. It would be like burning up beside the sun.” The bitterness in my voice was unintentional, but I couldn’t take it back.

Her lips parted, but whatever words she might have offered, she kept to herself. Compassion flickered in her tear-filled eyes, a mercy I didn’t deserve.

Raising my gaze, I forced myself to look directly at her. “But I will always be watching.”

A tear wobbled on her chin, glinting like crystal in the morning sun.

“My shadow. My Scáth,” she whispered, her voice a broken thread of sound.

“I love you,” I said, the words agony to speak, but I couldn’t leave her without saying them.

Of all the daggers I had plunged into myself—this was the one that twisted deepest.

And I’ll always love you—from the shadows . These were the words I felt, the truth I held in my chest, but I left them unsaid.

Ava was too overcome with emotion to reply, her mouth opening and closing as if every word failed her.

“It’s okay,” I murmured.

I knew what it felt like to be choked by the inadequacy of language. To find words incapable of carrying the weight of love, of sorrow, of goodbye.

If I’d found the right words sooner… perhaps. But no. I couldn’t drown in what-ifs. Not yet. Not until she was gone.

“Promise me,” I said, my voice steady even as my heart cracked. “Promise me you’ll look after him for me.”

“Right,” she said, laughing weakly through her tears but failing to hide the emotion in her voice.

We shared a quiet moment then, a rare and precious understanding passing between us without the need for words.

“I promise,” she whispered at last.

I nodded, more to myself than her. It was time to let go. Time to set her free and walk into the darkness that awaited me.

“Go,” I said, nodding toward the tomb, my voice barely above a whisper.

Ava hesitated, glancing back at me with wide, tear-filled eyes.

She took a step closer instead, pressing up onto her tiptoes to kiss me one last time. Her lips were soft, cool against my bruised mouth, like a balm and a blade all at once.

When she stepped back, her hands clutched desperately at her chest, and I clenched my fists behind my back to keep from reaching for her.

“I love you, Ciaran,” she said, her voice breaking.

I closed my eyes, unable to speak.

Instead, I mouthed the only words I could. I know.

And then she turned and walked away, leaving me in the shadows as she stepped into the light .

If I cared more about preserving what little was left of my heart, I would have turned away too. Spared myself the agony of watching her disappear, step by step, into a world where I could no longer follow.

But I was selfish. I stole one last moment, one last image of her, burning it into my memory with the kind of desperation of a man who knows he’s losing everything.

I stood rooted there, dying a little more with every footfall, with every sway of her dark hair in the sunlight.

Searing it into my mind, the way the morning kissed her skin, the lightness of her steps, the way her shoulders squared as she hurried toward Ty, toward her future.

This was the vision that would haunt me, the one that would rise unbidden every night when sleep refused to come. The memory I would clutch to my chest like a lifeline and a curse.

And even though she was walking away, leaving me to the shadows, I knew she meant it.

She loved me, but she belonged to Ty.