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T he river coursed beside them, its steady murmur a rare constant in the chaos of their expedition. They had spent a second night camping near the banks, allowing their aching bodies more time to recover. Vivienne inhaled deeply, the humid air swirled in her lungs. Her muscles throbbed and the sting wounds prickled beneath the thin bandages, but she was standing. Breathing. They were all alive despite the stacking odds against them.

She studied the others as they packed their gear, savoring the fleeting calm. Cirrus double-checked the straps of his pack, his usually tanned skin still pallid from the lingering effects of the stings. A few feet away, Lewis shifted his weight, testing his footing with a slight limp. Owen adjusted the wrappings around his shin, suppressing any outward sign of discomfort. He had endured multiple stings, yet his posture and facial expression gave nothing away.

“Looks like we’re as ready as we’ll ever be,” Cirrus said, slinging his pack over his shoulder. “We follow the river to the waterfall.”

Lewis raised a hand, a grin growing on his face. “Hey, Cici—” Cirrus’ scowl at the nickname only widened Lewis’ grin. “I was thinking, for a fun change of pace, we try walking through the rainforest instead of sprinting for our lives. What do you say?”

Cirrus exhaled through his nose, unamused. “I’ll do my best to keep the sprinting portions to a minimum, but we need to keep moving. As far as we know, Enyo and the rest of his crew are still out there.”

Vivienne shuddered, recalling the gruesome aftermath of the Apocrita’s attack. The sailors’ bloated, venom-ravaged corpses were a sight she would never be able to forget. Though she wouldn’t wish such a horrific end on anyone, she had no desire to cross paths with Enyo’s men again.

The group set off, slipping into an instinctive formation. Vivienne and Cirrus led, navigating the dense foliage while Lewis and Owen trailed behind, their injuries slowing their strides. The rainforest remained unforgiving with its twisting roots, uneven ground, and tangled underbrush, but for the first time in days, they weren’t running.

The crisp breeze offered a welcome reprieve from the stifling heat, its cool fingers brushing against Vivienne’s flushed skin. A delicate, floral fragrance beckoned her forward, and she followed the intoxicating scent, Cirrus keeping pace at her side. The rainforest opened into a small glade bursting with color. Clusters of vivid red and yellow flowers swayed gently, their nectar-laden blooms enticing a kaleidoscope of butterflies. Hundreds of them flitted from petal to petal, their wings gleaming like shards of sapphire, emerald, and gold.

Vivienne gasped in awe. “Beautiful.”

"Yes, you are," Cirrus murmured, his voice a breath against her ear as his fingers brushed hers.

She shot him a sidelong glare, though the warmth creeping up her neck betrayed her. She turned to face him, unintentionally disturbing the glade. The butterflies took flight in a dazzling spiral, encircling them in a whirlwind of fluttering gemstones. Cirrus reached for her hand, his usual easy confidence faltering. His stance was unsteady, his expression vulnerable in a way she hadn’t seen before.

“Banns… Vivienne,” he released a shaky breath, taking her by the hand. “Too many times on this island, I thought you…” a hard swallow rippled down his throat, “I thought you might die.”

“And yet, here I am." She smiled, attempting to lighten the weight of his words.

His thumb traced slow circles on the back of her hand. "When I thought I’d lose you…” Cirrus paused, his voice dropping into near reverence. “It became even clearer to me that I don’t want to live without you.”

Her breath stumbled, every nerve tingling in awareness.

“I… um…”

This was not the usual flirtation, teasing remarks, and suggestive comments they had volleyed for days. This was him putting his heart on an altar. This was Cirrus unmasked and unguarded.

"You don't have to say anything right now," he added. " No one has to say anything right now."

His hand slipped behind her head, his fingertips skimmed the nape of her neck, diving deep into her hair. His body pressed hers against the rough bark of a tree, not forceful, insistent. The rainforest around her blurred, absorbed by his all-consuming closeness, his breath mingling with hers.

"Cirrus—" she started, but his lips silenced her.

The kiss carried a sense of desperate urgency. Imbued with all the emotions he’d kept buried for too long. His other hand anchored at her waist, pulling her to him as if she might float away. Vivienne’s heart pounded, her hands raised in startled hesitation.

Without warning, Cirrus was ripped away. The moment shattered as Owen materialized out of nowhere, his face a mask of cold fury. He slammed Cirrus against a nearby tree, the impact knocked the wind out of Cirrus. Owen’s forearm an iron bar against Cirrus’ chest. A dagger glinted in the dappled light, its blade pressed to Cirrus’ throat.

"I was beginning to think you could behave yourself, Theodosia." Owen's voice was a low growl. "How dare you take advantage of someone you are supposed to protect!"

Cirrus spoke, his voice tight, trying not to move his neck. "She's my ex-fiancé!" he ground out.

Owen didn’t flinch. "Am I supposed to give a fuck?" The blade bit into Cirrus’ skin. "A previous relationship does not entitle you to anything ."

"It's not... I?—”

"Did he hurt you, Vivienne?" Owen demanded, his gaze sharper than his dagger.

"No,” she answered immediately.

"Did you want him to kiss you?" he pressed.

“I… well…” Her voice wavered, betraying her uncertainty.

It was enough. Owen’s grip tightened, pushing the knife just enough to draw blood. A thin crimson line beaded along Cirrus’ throat, his jaw clenching against the sting.

"It's fine, Owen!" her voice shot up, motioning for him to stop. "I'm fine. "

The commander held his glare a moment longer before stepping back, pulling the blade away, and wiping it clean on his trousers. His eyes moved to her, the icy rage in his eyes beginning to melt. “We need to keep moving. Now.”

Cirrus winced, pressing his fingers against the shallow wound. He turned to Vivienne, half-amused, half-exasperated. “Are you okay?”

She nodded, though her pulse was still erratic. “Are you ?

"Yeah, Banns. I've lived through worse.” He smirked despite himself. “I guess our mother hen has claws." His expression shifted to teasing. "Should I take your worrying about me as a positive sign?"

She parted her lips to reply, but Owen’s voice rang through the trees.

"I said, NOW!"

* * *

“This is getting impossible,” Lewis grumbled, yanking a stubborn vine from his pack. “We’ll be stuck here for days if we keep trying to push through this mess.”

The dense rainforest tangled around them, an unrelenting snare of vines and thorns. Each step was a battle. Their progress slowed to a miserable crawl.

Owen pressed forward, undeterred. “We stay in the forest,” he insisted. “Better cover."

Cirrus, trailing behind Vivienne, let out a scoff. “That might have made sense earlier, but look at this place.” He gestured at the suffocating foliage, his brows drawn in frustration. “We’re hacking through a damned wall of trees while the river runs wide and clear right next to us. We should follow it, the canyon cuts a direct path to the waterfalls.”

Owen halted, sharply turning. His jaw flexed as he considered Cirrus’ words, then he shook his head. “And be out in the open? Where Enyo’s men can track us without having to try?” His dark eyes pointedly flicked to the thin, bleeding cut on Cirrus’ throat. “You’re full of bad ideas today, Theodosia.”

Cirrus squared his shoulders. “And you’re ignoring the obvious. Look around, Thorne. This rainforest is strangling us, and if we’re ambushed here, we won’t be able to run. We’ll be dead before we can draw a weapon. At least by the river, we’d see them coming.”

The tension between them thickened. Vivienne didn’t need this debate turning into yet another clash of egos punctuated by a blade. Swiping sweat from her forehead, she turned to the river glimmering through the trees. Cirrus wasn’t wrong. The riverbank offered speed, but Owen’s concerns weren’t unfounded either. If we have to force our way through another mile of this entanglement, we’ll be lucky to reach the waterfalls by next year’s Harvest Moon Festival.

“The river is a clearer path,” Lewis added. “We'd make better time.”

Vivienne met Owen’s gaze. "We aren’t making progress like this. The deeper we go, the denser it gets. If something or someone does attack, we’ll be sitting ducks. Imagine trying to escape Apocritas in this mess.”

Owen’s teeth ground. His eyes scanned the twisted trees, the knotted vines, and the razor-leafed ferns clinging to their boots.

She lowered her voice. “The riverbank isn’t perfect, but at least we’ll make progress.”

Cirrus shot her a grateful look, adjusting the straps of his pack. “She’s right. The river leads straight to the falls. If we’re careful, we can stay low and avoid unwanted attention.”

Owen remained silent, his fists clenching at his sides. Vivienne sensed he wasn’t happy about being outvoted, but he was pragmatic enough to listen to reason.

“Fine.” He released a tense breath. “We take the river path.”

The final stretch of foliage yielded to an open bank where the river snaked through towering canyon walls, worn smooth by centuries of rushing water. The sound of the distant waterfalls murmured ahead, a rhythmic pulse guiding them forward. Despite Owen’s apprehension, the path was clear, the terrain even. The strangling grasp of the rainforest loosened. For the first time in hours, Vivienne felt she had the space to take a deep breath.

“Not bad,” Lewis muttered, as they strode along the water’s edge. “Much better than being a needle in a rainforest haystack.”

Vivienne walked beside Owen in contemplative silence, her thoughts tripping over themselves. She hadn’t responded to Cirrus’ confession. She wasn’t sure what to say. Nothing about their circumstances had changed. He was still heir to Claringbold and expected to return to Roathe. Her path led elsewhere, to the Library of Metis, a kingdom away. She didn’t want Owen to kill him, but she wasn’t ready to pick up where she and Cirrus left off either.

A dozen feet behind her, hushed voices carried through the air, too quiet for Vivienne to make out. What are they talking about?

* * *

"What happened, Cici?" Lewis asked, nodding at the cut on Cirrus’ neck, fighting to keep his expression neutral.

Cirrus touched the wound absentmindedly. "A prick in the rainforest."

Lewis raised a skeptical brow. "Strange. I’ve never seen a thorn cut like a blade." He relished the frustration rolling off Cirrus in waves.

“This particular prick happens to be a ship commander,” Cirrus muttered, his tone darkening.

"Ah, Thorne , not thorn, got it.” Lewis smoothed down his hair, a smirk growing on his face. “And I know." He shot Cirrus a pointed look. "Who do you think told him where you and Viv had run off to?"

I did. I gave you just enough time to get yourself into a compromising position and then set the commander loose. How predictable, Cici, that the minute you two were alone, you couldn’t keep your hands to yourself. Lewis’ blood curdled at the thought of Cirrus’ hands, mouth, or any part of him being anywhere near Vivienne. Cirrus never deserved her and there was nothing that could ever convince Lewis otherwise.

Cirrus’ jaw clenched. His fingers curled into fists at his sides. "I should have guessed. What’s your problem, Blume?"

My problem? The arrogance of this asshole truly has no limit. Lewis shook his head. There were far more issues than a singular problem. There was not one thing, action, or betrayal fueling his hatred. It was death by a thousand cuts. It was every instance Cirrus dangled Vivienne over him, baiting him. Every tear he wiped from Vivienne’s cheeks after she and Cirrus argued and waded through her unlimited spring of grief when she’d ended the engagement. It was the injustice of having loved her for years, only for a stranger from another kingdom to swoop in and steal her heart. And now Cirrus was trying to do it again.

"My problem ?” Lewis let out a humorless laugh. “My problem is you waltzing back into Viv’s life after years of silence, acting like you’re back in a relationship. Which, if memory serves, was still never going to work, Lord Theodosia." He mocked a shallow bow.

Cirrus released a dry chuckle, devoid of warmth. “Oh, I see what this is really about.” His voice lowered, sharpening into a weapon. “You’re still waiting for her to wake up and see what’s obvious to everyone else. What, Blume? Is her choosing me painful for you?”

Lewis’ eyes darkened. Oh, fuck off. "She already chose not to be with you when she called off your engagement."

"And she's had twenty-five years to choose you, and she hasn't. Wake up, Blume!" Cirrus’ tone turned acidic. "I'd prefer if only two people had a say in my relationship this time around."

A scoff escaped Lewis’ throat. There were never only two people in that relationship. He and Vivienne were a package deal, two halves of a whole. Even if Vivienne never came around, if their relationship never changed from their deep friendship—he’d rather die alone than standby while Cirrus caused her further harm and heartbreak.

"I'd prefer if you jumped off a cliff into shark-infested waters, but we don't always get what we want, do we?" Lewis scowled at him, his temper flaring.

Cirrus angled his head, his expression unreadable. "Are you looking for a fight, Blume?"

Adrenaline struck like lightning, crackling through his veins. He and Cirrus had remained civil to each other over the years for Vivienne’s sake. Well, maybe not entirely civil, but their disagreements never came to blows. Lewis’ clenched fists tingled in anticipation. Years of restrained anger, resentment, and contempt brewed beneath his skin. What I wouldn’t give to punch that cocky smirk off of his stupid face.

Lewis rolled his shoulders back, stepping into Cirrus’ space. “You’re godsdamned right I am.”

A deafening boom split the air, the sound sudden and violent, as if the sky cracked open.

* * *

The ground quaked in response, the canyon walls trembled. Vivienne’s breath died in her chest as the sheer force of the noise echoed through the valley, vibrating in her ribs like the aftershock of a cannon blast. Was that an explosion?

"What the everdark?" Owen’s sharp exclamation was drowned in the mounting roar of the rock beneath their feet, shuddering and splintering.

The second tremor hit like a giant’s wrath. The earth gave a deep, guttural groan. A low ominous rumble built from within the canyon walls, intensifying with each second. Chaos erupted.

"MOVE!" Owen bellowed, his voice lost in the violent cacophony of stone and dust.

Vivienne barely registered her own feet as she ran, her boots slipping over shifting gravel and loose rock. The air grew thick with dust, choking her lungs as the canyon walls cracked like brittle bone. Jagged fissures raced up the stone, widening with terrifying speed. An enormous slab of rock crashed into the ground with a force that made her ears ring. The canyon is closing in on itself.

“RUN! RUN!” Cirrus boomed, seizing Vivienne’s arm and yanking her forward as another massive chunk of stone slammed into the earth behind them, fracturing on impact and sending shards flying.

They sprinted along the narrowing riverbank, dodging the cascade of falling debris. The roaring sound of collapsing rock dominated her senses, drowning out everything but their frantic breaths. Another blast—closer—sent a new surge of tremors through the ground. Vivienne’s foot caught on an uneven sone, her ankle twisting as she lurched forward.

Inches from the ground, Cirrus caught her, his grip iron-tight around her waist. He didn’t stop moving. He didn’t let go.

“We have to get to higher ground!” Lewis yelled, his voice ragged as he scanned ahead.

“There!” Owen pointed to a narrow ledge jutting out from the canyon wall. It was their only chance of escape.

Owen and Lewis scrambled up first, clawing at the rock for handholds as the ground below split open. Vivienne threw herself forward, her fingers scraping over dirt and stone as she climbed. Faster. Faster. Cirrus reached up, gripping the edge and hoisting himself up after her.

A shadow formed overhead. Vivienne’s stomach plummeted. A massive shard of stone, easily the size of a horse cart, broke free from the cliffside. It was headed straight for them.

“WATCH OUT!” she screamed, shoving Cirrus out of the way.

The boulder smashed into the ledge where he had been standing seconds before. The impact sent a tremor through the rock beneath them. The ledge snapped.

She felt herself falling. For a split second the world was nothing but weightlessness. Then pain. The jagged rock below caught her, knocking the wind from her lungs. Her vision blurred with dust and agony as she struggled to breathe.

"Vivienne!" Owen and Lewis shouted from above.

Her ears rang. She forced herself to move. Up, Vivienne. Get up! Her hands, bloodied from scrapes, frantically searched for something to hold on to. She gritted her teeth, willing her shaking limbs to obey, to climb. Owen and Lewis lunged forward, their arms outstretched. Vivienne jumped.

The moment her fingers met theirs, they locked around her wrists, hauling her up with every ounce of strength they had left. She collapsed onto the unbroken part of the ledge, gasping for air as the tremors finally began to subside.

Vivienne’s chest heaved as she blinked up at Owen and Lewis. They were both covered in dust and sweat, but something was wrong. Cirrus. Cold dread slithered down her spine. She twisted toward the shattered canyon below, her pulse thundering in her ears.

"Where is he?!" she demanded, her voice thin with panic.

Owen looked away. Lewis opened his mouth, then closed it, shaking his head. The silence was unbearable. Bile rose in Vivienne’s throat as her stomach flipped. No. No, no, no.

"Cirrus!" she shrieked, her voice breaking as she scrambled to the edge, scanning the wreckage below. He can’t be dead. He can’t be gone.

The canyon lay in ruin, the rockslide burying everything with jagged stone.

Her body trembled as she desperately searched, willing him to be there. “CIRRUS!” She screamed again, over and over. Her voice was raw, each cry tearing a new wound in her soul. Sobs wracked her frame as she unraveled.

Owen and Lewis stood behind her, silent and helpless.

Her fingernails dug into the dust. She shut her eyes, grief crashing over her like a tidal wave. Maybe I don't want to live without him either.

"Cirrus..." she whispered, her voice hoarse as tears carved tracks down her dusted cheeks.

"Miss me, Banns?"

Vivienne’s breath hitched violently. She thought the island itself was taunting her, conjuring a cruel mirage of his voice.

"Why would you torture me?" she groaned.

"I would never," the voice came again.

She turned toward the sound. There, ten feet away, covered in dust and bruises, but very much alive, stood Cirrus. A choked sob clawed up her throat. The next second, she was running. She slammed into him with enough force to nearly send them both crashing to the ground. Her arms wrapped around his waist, gripping his shirt. He’s real . His heartbeat drummed beneath her ear. He’s alive.

She pulled back just enough to look at his face. He was battered, his left brow split open, with dirt and blood streaking his skin. He’s alive.

Relief swept through her like wildfire—until it morphed into anger. Vivienne shoved him, hard.

“Don’t you ever scare me like that again! Do you hear me? Never again. ”

She threw herself at him again, arms locking tight around his torso. This time, she held on.

He exhaled shakily, his chin resting against the top of her head. His hands settled around her back, warm and reassuring.

"Never again," he vowed.

* * *

Cirrus sat leaning against the rough bark of a tree, arms folded as he surveyed the group. "The island responding isn't so far-fetched now, is it?" Cirrus posed, his voice low.

They sat beneath a dense canopy of leaves, hidden in the cool shade where Owen insisted they rest. Dirt clung to their clothes, sweat drying on their skin. The weight of the explosion and the canyon’s violent collapse still pressed heavily on their minds. The ringing in their ears hadn’t fully faded.

Vivienne pulled her knees to her chest, her fingers tracing absent patterns in the soil. She barely slept the night before, curled beside Cirrus, unwilling to let him out of her sight. Even now, she couldn’t shake the feeling that if she blinked too long, he’d disappear, swallowed by the rubble that had nearly claimed him.

Lewis twirled a twig between his fingers, fidgeting as he mulled over Cirrus’ words. “So, if we follow that logic—explosion happens, Elandra disapproves, and then boom —she pulls another divine tantrum and drops the canyon on our heads?”

Cirrus gave a half-shrug. “It fits. The same thing happened with the Apocrita.”

Silence stretched between them. Vivienne’s eyes remained fixed on the dirt, her jaw tight. The pieces were clicking together, an ugly truth taking shape. The explosions. The tremors. The destruction. It all tied back to one person.

"Enyo. Every time that bastard does something reckless, the island reacts," she muttered, fists clenching. "And we’re the ones who suffer for it."

The realization sat like a stone in her stomach. How many more times can this happen? How many more disasters are waiting for us because of him?

Lewis frowned. “But why blow up the canyon? How does that help him?”

“He didn’t,” Cirrus said darkly. “The canyon wasn’t his target. He blew up something else, and the island responded.” His expression twisted with guilt. “If I hadn’t pushed for the river path, maybe we wouldn’t have?—”

“Cirrus.” Vivienne reached over, gripping his forearm. “None of us could’ve seen this coming.”

Owen let out a sharp breath, adjusting his position against the rainforest floor. "It doesn't matter which route we take. It’s impossible to stay ahead of Enyo when he’s willing to destroy anything or anyone in his way." Frustration radiated off his words, highlighting the powerlessness pressing down on all of them.

Vivienne tried to rake a hand through her tangled hair, only to meet resistance from knots of dirt and sweat. Enyo doesn’t care. If the entire island were to sink into the sea, he wouldn’t blink—so long as he got what he came for. Her stomach churned at the thought. Does he already know what we’re searching for? Have his men found the same carvings in the ruins? Or worse—does he have an information source we don’t have?

Every step they took, they were one behind. Always too late. Always cleaning up his destruction. Vivienne wasn’t sure how much more of it she—or the island—could withstand.