The steam swirled in the air of Bela's dimly lit bathroom. Ethan's eyes were locked onto her ruined medicine cabinet as he passed the towel over his body in harsh strokes – as if he were a carpenter sanding a disobedient, splintery box.
While the smell of gunpowder had an almost therapeutically calming effect on Ethan, he didn't want to go to bed smelling like it. He didn't want his bedroom – or his cell, rather – reeking of lit sulfur for the next twenty-four hours. He was glad to wash the bitter scent off in Bela's shower, substituting the bite of gunpowder with the sweet scent of berries he could always smell in her hair.
Bela had been sitting at her desk when Ethan arrived. She had barely raised her head to acknowledge his presence – like there was little more than a draft that had wafted into her room. Ethan made no fuss of it at the time, even if it stung to see her like this; he just slipped into the bathroom and minded his own business.
It was now that he intended to talk to Bela, after getting cleaned up. He'd resolved to do so earlier, and it was time to follow through. He wasn't going to let Bela shut him out of her life without at least trying to claw his way back in. They'd been through too much together and shared too much with one another to just call it quits without a scrap of resolution.
Dressed in a sweater and some cozy pants that hung loosely at his hips, Ethan approached the door, stopping only to sweep his damp hair back. Without a mirror, he had no way of knowing how he looked, but that was hardly important at this point.
That brief pause of finger-combing his hair allowed Ethan to hear the hushed voice beyond the door.
"You know it's for the best."
Ethan's eyes narrowed into a frown. Inch by inch, he pressed his ear to the door.
"I cannot. He does not deserve it. He is good. Too good. I do not want to hurt him."
Who was Bela talking to?
He strained his ears in the effort to pick up a second voice – to hear anyone responding to Bela's mutters.
"I am no good. I never was."
The sharp, nearly deafening silence returned. No voice answered Bela, and she had no follow up.
Only one way to get to the bottom of it, and hope for the best. If luck was remotely in Ethan's favor, then he wouldn't have the unpleasant surprise of finding Lady Dimitrescu in the room with Bela.
Ethan pushed the bathroom door open, stepping into Bela's room.
The woman was fast, but not fast enough. Bela's hands moved in a blur, stuffing something away into her dresser drawer, and locking it shut with a sharp click. She had her back turned to Ethan, but her head craned over her shoulder – eyes wide with surprise at his sudden entry. She fidgeted with the key in hand for a second, rubbing her forefinger over the metal. Then she gulped, pocketed the key, and sat down on her bed.
The only thing Ethan had ever seen Bela lock into her drawer that quickly was that framed photo. The one he'd never gotten more than a glimpse of.
"Hi," Ethan opened in an attempt at nonchalance, sending Bela a little smile.
Bela tucked a few strands of hair behind her ear, her gaze averting his. "Hey. You finished quickly."
Had she been speaking to whoever was in that photo? If so, who?
It went without saying that Ethan didn't judge. Only God knew how many times he spoke to Mia's photos in his old house. He'd voice his musings aloud to her as he got home from work. He'd tell her about his coworkers' antics, or his boss' latest tightfisted deadline. He'd talk to Mia's picture with all the normalcy in the world – like he was just telling his wife about his day, and she wasn't actually dead and gone.
Sometimes, Ethan could swear the pictures responded to him – arguing with him, even. Like that one time he rearranged the appliances in the kitchen (much of which only Mia ever used). Mia may have been long gone at the time, but her voice was clear as day in the back of Ethan's head – berating him for messing up her kitchen. Rationally, Ethan knew his mind was playing tricks on him. But it was still enough for Ethan to return things to their original positions, and press a kiss to his fingers, before tapping Mia's face in the closest picture.
So, Ethan could sympathize, if that's what Bela had been doing.
It could be her family in that photo. Maybe even her old life's husband, for all he knew. She'd alluded to wanting to try and have kids, but never having the right time. It wasn't farfetched to imagine Bela talking to a long-lost husband.
Ethan smiled, shutting the bathroom door. "Yeah, I didn't really need to scrub as hard today. Didn't work up much of a sweat with Cassandra."
"Is that so?" Bela tilted her head, loose curls of blonde hair gliding down her shoulder.
This was more than Ethan ever got out of Bela on a regular day lately. He could take this as a good sign.
"Yeah." Ethan approached slowly with even steps – as if just one pace too quick would spook Bela. "I had no idea there was a firing range down here." He pointed a thumb in the general direction of the range. "Has she never taken you and Dani to it?"
A frown crossed Bela's face, and she looked down at her lap, where she pressed her hands together. "She made mention of it once or twice, but… no."
Ethan cast long shadows as he crossed the fireplace and took his position across Bela, leaning on her wardrobe. "No, as in she never invited you down there, or," he shrugged, "no, as in you never went down there?"
"She has made the invitation to me, at least, but…" Bela's lips hung open, and the words stalled for a moment. Then she sighed, shaking her head, "I prefer to keep deadly weapons a good distance away from me."
"You're one of the most levelheaded people I know, Bela." Ethan cracked a small smile and gestured to her. "If anyone can be trusted with a loaded weapon, I'd trust you. Cass and I can give you a little training and you'll be shooting safe in no time."
Bela tilted her head further, her eyes narrowing by a fraction. She repeated, "Cass?"
"Yeah, we uh…" Ethan rubbed the back of his head. "I guess we're on a nickname basis now." He chuckled, just a tad awkwardly, "How 'bout that, huh? Did you think you'd ever see the day?"
The corners of Bela's lips lifted in a smile – or maybe Ethan was imagining it, because it was gone before he could blink. Bela hummed. "I was serious when I said you two would be fast friends eventually."
And not fast food like Ethan had thought.
"It's crazy," Ethan muttered before speaking up, "Didn't think I'd make much headway with her at all." His finger tapped against the side of his pants for a second. "Didn't think I'd befriend her in any way, but…"
"Here you are."
Ethan licked his lips and nodded, eyes on Bela and her neutral expression – blank enough to rival Cassandra's poker face. He locked onto her eyes in the hopes of discerning something – anything from her gaze. "Here I am," he repeated.
"Well, you've got me, Dani, and now Cassie. Who's next?" A small, teasing smile graced Bela's pink lips. "Are you going to woo my mother now?"
Ethan scoffed out a laugh, hanging his head for a beat to wipe (most of) the smile from his face. Tatyana's words, and how she'd made him sound like a harem protagonist were still fresh in his head. "Yeah – no, I don't have any plans for that. The farther I am from your mom's giant fuck-off claws, the better."
Bela giggled, and the effect it had on Ethan was instantaneous. He could practically see the trail of sound in the air – hazy, and as golden as Bela's hair. The ripple of her laughter in the air made contact with his skin, causing the little hairs on his arms to stand on end. He was smiling like a goof before he knew it.
Ethan tried his luck, gesturing to the space next to Bela on her bed. "May I?"
The smile on her face persisted even after her laughter had simmered down. She looked up at Ethan, eyes twinkling like citrine in the warm glow of her fireplace. Color seeped into her high cheekbones, bringing a pinkish hue to her usually pale face. Like a blooming cherry blossom in a snowy field. Pristine teeth slid out to gently press down on her full lips – that familiar look of trepidation and quickly dwindling self-control.
Ethan spoke first, letting the words tumble out of his mouth, "You gonna answer me?" His lopsided smile would hopefully detract from how warm his ears and his cheeks were getting. "Or are you gonna keep staring at me with that pretty look on your face?"
Bela twirled a hand up, pressing her palm to her face. Her thumb gently brushed along her lower lip in a slow, tantalizing stroke. "Is it a pretty look?"
"You're ridiculous, Bela." Ethan grinned. "What are you doing?"
"I'm…" Bela sucked her lips in, then released them with an audible pop. Her other hand landed on her cheek – as if trying to frame her face. "Giving you my pretty look."
A whispered "what the fuck?" from Ethan broke Bela's composure in its entirety. She laughed freely, one dainty hand on her chest. Her eyes positively lit up when they met Ethan – taking in the incredulous look on his face and the lopsided smile that shone in full force. The previously thick air was filled with the warm sound of her laughter – hot and sweet like spiced honey, and Ethan could hardly comprehend how cold and bland his world had been without it the past few days.
That look – the adoration in Bela's eyes – glimmered as she patted the space next to her. Yet something mingled with the affection – some forlorn, obscured sadness, which was gone before he could blink.
Ethan tried not to think about it too hard. He needed no further instruction aside from Bela's invitation. He crossed the space in moments, turning to sit at her right side. Before he could move, Bela initiated contact first. Her hands, lithe and delicate, yet purposeful and sure, landed on his chest and his back. They trailed over to the side until her arms wrapped him up in an embrace, and her hands spread over the side of his ribs. They held him there securely – firmly, as Bela's hands were never one for half-measures.
Her face was in the crook of his neck before he could even finish processing her arms trapping him in the hug. Her nose tickled his skin as she wriggled her head around – as if drawing shapes against his rough stubble with the tip of her nose. Bela sent a shiver down his back when she gave a breathy exhale into his neck. She hummed, sounding perfectly content. "My soap smells great on you."
"That's a… great thing to tell someone before you bite their neck."
An even breathier, happier laugh against Ethan's neck, and he's a goner.
To be trusted with the breath of a woman's laugh is sacred. It's a different sort of intimacy that can run deeper than any kiss, or even sex. It's the sort of unspoken trust, wrapped up in a tangle of limbs, in a language that need not be verbally spoken. It's the sharing of space with her – scant, and nearly nonexistent. That sound – that beautiful ring of laughter; each inhale she takes is only possible with his each exhale – each quiet chuckle Ethan no longer tries to stifle. They fuel each other – power each other in a way that only two people can do for each other.
Ethan had felt that way about Mia. Her raspy laughs in his ear, fanning his face – the sensation joined by her own head nuzzling against him. How even her laughs seemed to carry the slightest Texan drawl to it. And naturally, Ethan would tell her, "Slow down, cowgirl," in his worst accent, in the dumbest way possible, and it was the funniest damn thing to her anyway. Her laugh was a drug and Ethan was always starved for his next fix.
Bela was the same.
He'd been starved for that sensation for almost a month now – just as he'd been parched for Bela's touch, her voice, and her laugh. She was under his skin – so irrevocably and irreversibly part of him after their time together, no matter how short it may have been in the grand scheme of things.
Like spiced honey for a hot cup of tea for a bad throat, Ethan yearned for her. He wanted to breathe in her laughs, feel the dance of her lips against his face – feel that intimacy that only a connection as potent as theirs could bring. It was a whirlwind – a flutter of wings that could start from his stomach and carry all the way into his head, powerful enough to make him dizzy. Yet even when dazed and reeling from being in Bela Dimitrescu's presence, it was also liberating. It has generally never been difficult for Ethan to breathe, but he's never breathed as easy as he has when laughing with Bela.
Or walking with Bela. Or chatting with Bela. Or falling asleep with Bela in a tangle of their bodies, not knowing where he began and Bela ended – because why worry about such things when her breaths gave him hope for a better world?
She made it easy to breathe, to believe that tomorrow held better things in store – that his life wasn't on a one-way spiral straight to oblivion.
Ethan opened his eyes, not quite sure when he'd shut them to begin with. His view came through hazy, through tears he didn't expect. But there wasn't much to see beyond the mess of Bela's hair as she pressed into his side. Ethan's hands had already found their homes on Bela. One arm looped around her waist – mimicking the way her fingers dug into his ribs to anchor in place. His other hand settled on Bela's arm, thumb brushing the fabric of her dress and yearning for her skin.
That hand just as quickly left her dress – seeking her face. He brushed her cheek slowly – delicately, before his fingers wandered into her hair. His lips invariably found Bela's head. Ethan shifted a little – difficult, considering Bela was smushing herself into his neck – until he could plant a lingering kiss to her hair.
After wriggling a little until her face was no longer trying to fuse with his neck, Bela spoke up first. "I am sorry I did not pick you up tonight."
By now, the mist gathering in Ethan's eyes had cleared, and the lump in his throat had dislodged. It was easy to run his hands along her side and tell her, "It's okay. Would've appreciated a little forewarning that you weren't gonna pick me up, but," Ethan shrugged, nudging Bela's head upward in the process, "no harm done."
"I was tired, and…" Bela took in a breath, steadily and slowly, "I had a lot on my mind."
It was an excuse she had given Ethan countless times now. He refrained from pointing that out.
"I get it."
A longer pause, and Bela simply tightened her hold on Ethan. He was powerless to not tell her, "I missed this." His lips dipped down, a sole explorer parting the lush wheatfield that was Bela's golden hair. Ethan kissed her, allowing his lips to idle there when he whispered, "I missed you, tapeworm."
Bela hummed, long and contented.
"Can we go back to this?" Ethan asked in a whisper. "Back to being like this – being us? I always told you, Bela: you don't have to fight those demons alone." He squeezed, drawing a soft exhale from Bela. "You're not alone in this."
"Oh, puppy…" Bela sighed, digging her nails into his sweater. The pause drew on, and her breaths grew shaky. Her voice trembled as she whispered, "This wasn't meant to last."
Ethan froze.
"W-what?"
Another shaky sigh from Bela, matching the quiver in her voice. "I only wanted to hold you one last time."
Ethan lifted his head up – trying to pull back so he could look at Bela. She kept him largely pinned in place with her strong arms wrapped around his midsection. "Bela, what are you talking about?" His voice came out strangled – he nearly didn't recognize it as his own. "What do you mean one last time?"
"This has to stop." Bela finally relented, withdrawing her arms from Ethan. Even with the sweater, his skin felt nearly icy to suddenly be subjected to the absence of Bela's touch.
Bela shuffled on the bed to put a small amount of distance between them, but still remained within arm's reach. She sniffled and cleared her throat, hands coming up to rub her eyes before smoothing out her hair. She repeated, "This has to stop." Her eyes closed – shutting him out. "We cannot do this anymore."
Ethan narrowed his eyes, his heart already beating all the way up to his ears. "What we can't do anymore is have you push me away like this. C'mon, Bela – I don't believe for one second that you actually want this to stop."
Bela only shook her head, opening her eyes. "It is not a matter of what I desire, Ethan. It is what must be done," She brought a hand up, gesturing to him with a sharp flick of her fingers, "for your sake."
Ethan sputtered out a scoff, his brows meeting in a look of pure confusion. He turned, tucking one leg underneath him to face Bela. "How is this for my sake? How can you plan on pushing me away and say that it's for me?" The frustration leaked into his voice as he tilted his head down, ensuring he met Bela's eyes. "How does that work, exactly? Enlighten me."
Bela clenched her jaw shut and did the opposite – leaning her head back in an almost haughty way, not unlike how Cassandra sometimes glared at him down the tip of her nose. "Tell me – what did Cass have to say about me?"
Ethan blinked. His mouth opened and shut for a moment – trying to draw a connection between his relationship to Bela, and to Cassandra. "Not a lot." He had to admit, "But the stuff she did say wasn't good. Cass seems to blame you for a lot of things. For the way she is now. I'm…" Ethan smacked his lips. "I'm surprised that she's kinda self-aware of that – to a degree. I think she knows that… being a sadistic killer isn't good." He shrugged, and hedged on caution. "Just a hunch though. Nothing but me making deductions."
"Well, there you have it, Ethan." Bela nodded towards the door leading out, a bitter curl set into her lip. "Cassandra gave you the answer."
"No, she didn't. What're you –"
"I am poison, Ethan." Bela stated the words with such certainty – as if it were an indisputable fact. "I'm no good for y–"
"Poison?" Ethan raised his voice to interrupt. He huffed, "That's nonsense, c'mon – don't talk about yourself like –"
"It is not nonsense," Bela scoffed right back. "It is the truth, and Cassandra is the walking, talking proof that – that corrupting people is all I'm good for."
Corrupting?
Ethan narrowed his eyes at Bela, who glared right back at him.
"Look – Bela, I don't know the full story, but even if that's the case, that doesn't define you." Ethan frowned at the scoff Bela replied with. He repeated, "It doesn't. Doing a couple of terrible things doesn't mean you're all bad."
"What about an entire world of terrible things, Ethan?" Bela's voice picked up in volume, a snarl splitting across her face. "What then? You said it before – terrible things happen to people all the time, and they don't become killers because of it." Bela leaned in, teeth bared, and an unfamiliar rage in her eyes. "I am the terrible thing that happens to people, Ethan. I am the reason they become killers." Her hand shot out in a sharp gesture, vaguely pointing out at the world. "I am the reason children run in fear. I am the reason their parents tremble and deadbolt their doors at night." She jabbed her thumb against her chest as she growled, "I am Strigoaica Bălaie, breaker of people's bodies, minds, and spirits."
Bela let out a hot scoff at the look of recognition that crossed Ethan's features – the realization that Cassandra had been telling the truth. While she was the main breaker of men now, it had once been Bela.
"Yes, that's right." Bela frowned. "Cass told you about that, didn't she?"
"Not the… Strigo-whatever, but," Ethan stammered.
"Mhm," Bela hummed. "She still told you enough, I see." Her hands balled into fists on her lap. "Enough that you should know by now that the best course of action is to get far, far away from me." All the volume left her voice when her eyes dropped, and she muttered, "Before I hurt you."
"Bela, you know I can't do that. I can't, and I won't." Ethan tried to reach for her hands – pausing when Bela flinched. He was resigned to place his hands on his lap – but not before he could scratch his jawline with an agitated hand. "I know you're not going to hurt me. It's not in you to hurt me – to hurt people. Not anymore, anyway."
Bela shut her eyes tight, jaw clenched hard. She shook her head side to side, sending her blonde hair rippling in waves. "I see her everywhere, Ethan." Bela's throat tightened, and she pushed the words out like it pained her. "She won't go away – she won't, as long as you're here."
Utterly helpless, Ethan asked, "Bela, what the hell are you talking about? See who? What's it gotta do with me?"
Drawing in a shuddering breath, Bela opened her eyes. "There is no light at the end, Ethan. Not for me." She shook her head again. "Not for me."
"Bela…"
"The only time that voice in my head is quiet is when I keep you at arm's length – no," Bela huffed, a strangled, sad sound, "Far more than an arm's length." Her flighty eyes jumped from surface to surface, never nearing Ethan, and never settling. "You have to be far away from me, Ethan – it is what you deserve. That way, you're safe – and that is all I want."
"Bela – Bela, look at me." Ethan tried and failed to meet Bela's glassy eyes. "I don't want to be anywhere without you by my side, you got that?" A small pause, and Ethan had to consciously release the death-grip on his pants. "There's nowhere in this castle that I am safer, than when I'm with you. Maybe even in this whole fucking valley."
Ethan gulped down the steadily thickening lump in his throat. "With you, everything's okay again. There's an end in sight, and it's not just a path going straight down to hell. With you, I know I can get out of here – I can survive this." He gestured to the two of them, "We can survive this. You and me, together – we can. I know everything's going to be okay – for me, for you, and for Rose."
"It's not," Bela muttered, shaking her head. "It won't be okay as long as I'm involved." Her tongue dashed out to lick her dry, quivering lips. "Death and ruin. That is all I've ever brought into this world, and that is all I can ever do."
"That's not true, Bela – c'mon." Ethan's hands trembled on his lap from the sheer restraint of not reaching out for her. "You've done plenty good – so much good. In your old life, and in this one – especially to me. I wouldn't have lasted this long in the castle without you."
"You are the most resourceful man I have ever met, Ethan." Bela's voice grew strained, and she had to take a breath to steady it. "Without my help, you would have survived just fine."
A huff from Ethan, desperate and raw. "Maybe, but you made it easy, Bela. You made living easy. You, Bela. Nobody else." Ethan clenched his jaw – every muscle in his body straining to not wrap his arms around Bela. "You're the best damn thing to happen to me ever since Chris tore my fucking life apart."
Bela shut her eyes hard, sending the tears streaking down her face. "You deserve the best, Ethan. You deserve the whole fucking world, and I can't give you that – I can't measure up."
"Measure up," Ethan sputtered, "There's no competition here, Bela – there's no measuring you up against anyone."
"I can't take Mia's place, Ethan," Bela whispered, shaking her head slowly, "I can't, I can't, I can't." She sniffled. "I don't deserve that, I'm no good."
"Bela…" Ethan was at a loss for a solid few moments, before he found his voice. "I'd never ask that of you. It's never been about replacing anyone or measuring up to anyone." He licked his lips, his voice hoarse, "I just liked being with you. Having you in my life. Having us." He swallowed hard. "I can love Mia's memory and have you in my life, Bela – they're not mutually exclusive."
Bela was silent, save for her sniffles, and the quiet cries rocking her slender frame.
For lack of any eloquence and poetry to sway Bela's mind, Ethan fell back on raw honesty, "I care about you so much, Bela." A brief pause as Ethan tried and failed to catch her gaze. "You know that, right?"
Bela swallowed down a sob, her voice coming out breathless, "You shouldn't."
"I do."
Eyes welded shut, Bela continued to shake her head. She took a ragged breath and told him, "If you value your life, and Rose's life, then you should go, and never look back. Go and stay as far away from me as possible. Let Dani and Cassie take care of you."
"Bela, no." Ethan fought the tremble in his own voice. "Please don't say that."
Her puffy eyes fluttered open. Golden citrine twinkled in the swaying light of the fireplace. The tears cast shadows as they rolled down the curve of her cheek, brushing past her mouth, before finally dripping onto her dress. Bela bit down on her lip for just a beat before shaking her head yet again. "Just go."
"You've done so much good for me, Bela." His voice came out pleading before he could quite realize it. "With my health, with my stay in the castle, with protecting me from Cass at the start – with your trip to Karl, to dig up more intel." A gesture upward, and Ethan's voice may have cracked as he added, "You took me to Rose. That's more than I'll ever be able to repay." He leaned closer, begging, "Please… don't shut me out."
"Ethan…" Bela's hands landed on his face, and the gentleness of her touch was unparalleled. Her fingers glided over his cheeks like he's made of porcelain, and Bela feared he may shatter. Yet somehow, at the same time, Bela's touch was firm. It carried a sense of assuredness as it secured his face – as Bela never moved in half-measures.
That was how Bela drew Ethan in, tilting his face to plant a long, teary kiss to his stubbly cheek. That may have been when Ethan's own droplets of tears began to slip free, but he wasn't sure. He wasn't paying attention to any of that – he only had eyes for Bela.
Because too soon, she pulled herself away. His cheek was fire and ice in that moment – hot, from the contact of her lips, and cold, from how quickly she'd removed herself.
Her hand found his shoulder then, this time gently but steadily nudging him – pushing him away. "Go now," Bela pleaded. "Please, Ethan."
Ethan's throat constricted, preventing anything more than empty breaths from passing through his airways. He looked at Bela through his teary eyes as she tried to push him away – metaphorically and physically now. Her eyes never rose to meet his this time. They remained downcast as the anguish rocked her body with silent sobs.
Slowly, Ethan took Bela's hand from his shoulder. He held her with both hands, bringing her fingers up, so he could place a lingering kiss to her knuckles. He indulged himself in giving her hand a final squeeze before releasing her.
Ethan stood up.
He had done as Daniela advised. There was no way to make it clearer just how available and present he was trying to be for Bela. At least for now, he would honor Bela's wishes and give her the space.
Ethan only hoped it would be put to good use, and she would find her way back to him eventually.
If not, then he'd try to talk to her again, somehow, sometime. This wasn't defeat or surrender to the demons that plagued Bela.
This was only a tactical retreat.
"Okay," Ethan cleared his throat, wiping his face as he took slow steps to the door.
He would regroup, reevaluate, and then reengage. Just like any other mission.
Another sniffle, and Ethan placed his hand on Bela's door. A glance over his shoulder, and he grumbled out, "Good night, Bela."
From all the way across the room – and oh, how he wanted to close the distance and hold her – he could hear Bela's shaky breath. "Goodbye, Ethan."
Ethan let himself out and shut the door. It left him in the dim torchlight of the dungeon corridor. He leaned against the stone wall to the side – steadying himself. He pressed his hands into his face, gritting his teeth together. The grief morphed into frustration and powerlessness. When his chest tightened and his throat clamped up, Ethan turned – smashing his fist into the hardy wall. Teeth clenched and eyes shut, Ethan grumbled, "Fuck."
A/N: Thanks so much for reading! Be sure to fave and follow on your way out so you don't miss out on updates!
One of you while holding a monkey's paw: I hope Ethan and Bela finally talk again.
Me, the sociopath that I am: Granted, but they break up.
Bring on the pitchforks and torches, I am ready.
All kidding aside, this is (obviously) one of the peaks of Bela's spiraling bout of PTSD, and years worth of self-loathing catching up to her. Rest assured stuff like this isn't written just to pad the story or add needless drama. There's a method to my madness, and I ask y'all to trust me with this ride I'm taking you on. Give me a good couple of chapters, and I think you'll like where this is going.
This chapter actually went more rollercoaster-y than I originally planned. The original outline had it going more straightforward into the argument, but Bela and Ethan had other plans when I started to write the scene.
I think that's it from me for now. Shorter update, so it's a quicker one and all that. You can probably expect the next chapter by the 18th, but likely a little sooner. Spoiler alert: it's probably another one of my favorites, and I think it might be the same for some of you too.
As usual, be sure to peek at the socials over at linktr . ee / sylvesterm to check out other ways you can support me, and check out behind the scenes bits of my writing! I've been tinkering around with Talespire again and made a mock up of Cassandra's firing range, which was fun to put together.
Thank you all for the support as always! Can't wait to share the next chapter with you fellas, and I'll catch you around then at the next update! Stay safe out there!
