Page 67 of Evermore (The Never Sky #3)

Paesha

H e was there again, standing in the treeline, voice low as he and Tuck talked back and forth.

I used to dance for thousands and now I only danced for him.

And he and I both knew it. The stars offered little light as I moved across the rooftop, but I didn’t need it.

The Remnants had grown stronger in the dark, more insistent, their whispers a constant hiss across my skin and for once, Thorne’s presence wasn’t what set them off.

They’d moved beyond that now. Beyond him. Beyond everything.

Burn it , Winter’s voice cut through the others. Burn it all down.

She flashed before me, a ghostly figure with a bloody nose, bathed in snowflakes.

“Go away.”

Feel how the darkness calls , another hissed. Feel how it hungers.

I closed my eyes, letting my feet find their own rhythm. The movement helped quiet them, if only for moments at a time. But tonight was different. Tonight they wanted more than my attention. They wanted control.

My arms swept outward as I spun, trying to lose myself in the familiar patterns of an old ballet routine.

But with each turn, with each graceful arc of my body, the whispers grew stronger.

The Remnants were no longer content to simply speak, they moved with me, through me, as if the dance itself was awakening something terrible.

Let us show you what you truly are , they whispered in unison. Let us free.

I pushed harder, spinning faster, my feet barely touching the ground as I leaped across the rooftop.

The physical exertion should have exhausted me, should have quieted my mind, but instead it fed the darkness.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Dancing had been my only escape.

Each movement felt like striking matches in my soul, threatening to ignite an inferno I couldn’t control.

And it made no sense. Unless he was never truly the target.

You can feel it growing , Sylvie purred. The power. The hunger.

They were right. With each passing day, the force inside me grew stronger.

It wasn’t just voices anymore, it was a presence, a weight that pressed against my bones, begging to be unleashed.

Only one voice offered any peace, one nameless Remnant that met me in that quiet corner of my mind where the others couldn’t reach. But she was silent tonight.

Break the walls , they screamed. Tear down the sky.

Let them see what power truly means.

Show them destruction.

Show them chaos.

Show them the end of everything.

The voices overlapped, a symphony of madness that matched the frantic rhythm of my feet.

I couldn’t tell if I was dancing to silence them, or dancing to their tune.

Each spin brought a new vision of devastation.

Cities crumbled, mountains fell, rivers boiled.

The power surged through my veins like liquid fire, and the Remnants fed on it, growing stronger with each passing second.

You are not meant for peace , Winter taunted. You are meant for this.

I threw my head back and laughed, the sound bordering on hysteria as I pirouetted on the edge of sanity. The rain fell harder now, soaking through my clothes, but I barely felt it. The heat beneath my skin, the burning in my blood, consumed everything else.

Let go , they urged. Let us show them what destruction truly means.

“Please,” I gasped, but I wasn’t sure what I was begging for.

Peace? Silence? An end to the constant war within my own mind?

The Remnants surged at my weakness, their whispers becoming screams that echoed through me.

I knew I was reaching a breaking point. They’d been pushing and pushing for days.

It seemed like something had happened. Like leaving Thorne in the Forgotten wasn’t about revenge, but rather locking away someone who might have the ability to cage them.

End them. But he couldn’t. No one could.

I was sad. Truly and deeply sad. My entire heart ached as I fought a battle I couldn’t win.

And so I danced. Because it was the only thing I knew without thinking.

Without feeling. Without needing. I danced because it used to mean joy.

And escape. I danced because now it meant something else.

Yearning. For myself. For the way things used to be.

My legs finally gave out as the rain pounded against the rooftop, matching the thundering of my heart while I fought against the tide of chaos threatening to break free.

And then strong arms wrapped around me, pulling me against a familiar chest. I didn’t have to look up to know it was Thorne.

He said nothing, just held me as I shook, one hand cradling my head while the other traced soothing patterns on my back.

I should have pushed him away. Should have maintained the careful distance I’d tried to keep. But the voices weren’t screaming about him anymore. They were screaming about everything. The stars, the rain, the air I breathed. They wanted it all destroyed, reduced to nothing but ash and memory.

“I can’t,” I whispered against his chest. “I can’t keep fighting them.”

We stayed like that for what felt like hours, the rain soaking us both as he held me together with nothing but his presence and his warmth.

The Remnants still raged, but for now, in this stolen moment on a rain-slick roof, I let myself be anchored by the one person who’d survived centuries of darkness.

It wouldn’t last. It never did. The hunger for ruination grew stronger every day, and soon, not even Thorne’s arms would be enough to hold back the storm.

Nor Archer’s easy smile. Quill was my only slight reprieve.

But I wouldn’t tell her that. Nor would I use her for her power.

I’d suffer for centuries before I ever did that.

“You’re soaking wet,” he murmured against my hair.

“Astute observation. Did you learn that in god school?”

He huffed a laugh, shifting to sit more comfortably while keeping me tucked against him. “They covered it right after ‘how to brood attractively in shadows’.”

“Well, you certainly excelled in that class.” I could feel his smile against my temple. “Though your stalking needs work. I saw you in the garden today.”

“Impossible. I was extremely stealthy.”

“You knocked over a potted plant.”

“That was Tuck.”

“He wasn’t even there.”

“He’s very talented.”

Despite everything, I found myself smiling. The voices still whispered, but they seemed more distant now, as if our mundane conversation confused them. I focused on the steady rise and fall of his chest, the warmth of him beneath my cheek.

“How was your day?” he asked softly, his fingers absently combing through my wet hair. “Other than catching me being stealthy, of course, which likely didn’t happen.”

“Thea had some stuff in Silbath, so Archer and I walked her into town. And Quill tried to teach Boo a new trick but it didn’t go well.

He kept rolling over, no matter what she asked him to do.

She’d say sit, he’d roll over. Stay, roll over.

I think he’s convinced it’s the only trick worth knowing.

And he’s not wrong because she kept feeding him. ”

“Smart dog. When in doubt, stick with what works.”

“Did you learn that in god school too?”

“Probably.”

The rain began to ease, turning from a downpour to a gentle patter. Neither of us moved. The silence between us felt comfortable, unhurried. No expectations, no demands, just quiet understanding.

After a while, he shifted, reaching into his coat. “Elowen gave me something.” He pulled out a worn book, its leather cover soft with age and now slightly damp from the rain. “Said it was your favorite.”

My breath caught as I recognized the familiar binding. “The Soulless.” A smile tugged at my lips. “I used to read that over and over.”

He opened it carefully, the pages crackling softly. “I’ve read half of it, but I’ll start over if you want?”

“You’re going to read it to me?”

“I’m told I have an excellent reading voice.” He cleared his throat dramatically. “‘Once, in a kingdom far beyond the mist, there lived a princess who didn’t want to be saved…’”

I settled against him as his voice carried the familiar words across the rooftop.

It was a simple story really. A woman who befriended a soulless dragon meant to guard her tower, and together they traveled the world having adventures instead of waiting for a man to rescue her.

But something about hearing it in Thorne’s rich baritone made it feel new again.

The Remnants stirred at the edges of my mind, but they seemed unable to corrupt this moment, this simple peace found in an old tale read aloud in the rain.

The words of the story faded into silence, but still we sat there, neither willing to break the peace we’d found.

The rain had stopped completely now, leaving only the sound of water dripping from the eaves.

“I see you,” I said finally. “Not just the watching or the hovering, but the way you fight against your own nature. Every time I make a choice you don’t agree with, I can see how much you want to step in, to take control.

” I traced a pattern on his shirt with my finger, gathering courage.

“But you don’t. You stay back. You let me stumble. It’s… different.”

His hand stilled in my hair. “Different?”

“The Thorne I knew would have already had ten plans in motion. The Reverius I think is hiding in there would have commanded the world to bend. But you, you’re learning to let go. To trust me.”

“It’s not easy,” he admitted, a hint of wry humor in his voice. “I’m not particularly good at relinquishing control.”

“I hadn’t noticed.”

He laughed softly. “For thousands of years, I’ve tried to orchestrate every moment, craft every path. But when it comes to you, I must follow instead of lead.”