Consciousness returned slowly, like the first rays of dawn breaking through a fog-shrouded forest. Sineka drifted in that liminal space between dreams and waking, aware first of the warmth wrapped around her, then the steady rhythm of her breathing. For a moment, she clung to the fragile peace, afraid that if she opened her eyes, the harsh world would come rushing back.
But curiosity stirred within her. She needed to know where she was—howshe was still alive.
With a slow inhale, she opened her eyes.
Soft golden light filtered through sheer curtains, casting warm patterns against walls draped in silk the color of desert sands. A faint breeze stirred the fabric, carrying the distant hum of Serapha's bustling streets, though the sounds seemed muted, as if the walls themselves warded off the chaos outside.
Beneath her was the softest bed she had ever known—plush pillows cradled her head, and fine linen sheets of deep burgundy and gold enveloped her weary body. The faint scent of something familiar lingered in the air—sandalwood and tobacco, laced with the faintest trace of something darker. Her fingers grazed the sheets, feeling their cool, smooth texture beneath her fingertips.
Where...?
Sineka pushed herself upright with a soft groan, her limbs weak and unsteady. The room swayed slightly as dizziness threatened to pull her back down, but she gritted her teeth and steadied herself.
Her gaze drifted to the mirror across the room, and what she saw there stole the breath from her lungs.
The woman staring back at her was a stranger. The rich cinnamon hue of her hair hung dull and tangled around her shoulders. Shadows clung beneath her almond-shaped eyes, their hazel depths clouded with exhaustion. Her skin, once kissed by amber warmth, now appeared too pale, her freckles standing out starkly against the loss of color. Her cheeks, sharper than before, hinted at the hunger that had gnawed at her bones.
Fingers trembling, Sineka touched her reflection, as if to confirm that the woman she saw was truly herself. The glass was cool beneath her fingertips. A wave of grief and exhaustion tightened her chest, stealing the air from her lungs. Yet beneath it all—beneath the fatigue and fear—there flickered a stubborn ember of hope.
I'm alive.
The sound of distant footsteps drew her gaze toward the closed door. Her pulse quickened.
Panic coiled in her chest, but she pressed her palm over her heart and whispered a shaky prayer beneath her breath. She clung to the warmth of the bed, the safety of the room, hoping that whoever stood beyond the threshold was a friend, not a predator.
The footsteps halted. The latch clicked.
As the door swung open with a faint creak, Sineka's breath caught in her throat.
Crocodile stepped inside, and the world seemed to shift.
His tall frame filled the doorway, shoulders squared beneath the folds of his coat, the familiar scent of leather, tobacco, and faint desert winds drifting in with him. His sharp gaze locked onto hers instantly, amber eyes darkened with an emotion she couldn't name. Yet beneath the hardened lines of his face, she saw it—the faint tension at the corners of his mouth, the way his gaze swept over her with swift, assessing intensity. As if confirming that she was still breathing.
The sob escaped her before she could stop it.
Tears welled in her eyes, blurring the room into golden haze as relief broke through the walls she'd held so tightly. Her shoulders shook with the force of her breath as she pressed a hand against her lips, trying to muffle the sound.
Crocodile's eyes widened in concern as he took in Sineka's tear-streaked face. Without a word, he strode to her side, the soft echo of his footsteps muffled by the plush carpet. The room, with its warm firelight and muted opulence, seemed to pause with the weight of the moment.
The dark wood furnishings gleamed softly beneath golden accents, and deep burgundy drapes cascaded from tall windows, framing the faint glow of the city beyond. The air smelled faintly of amber and cedar, a lingering warmth that softened the harsh edges of reality. Against the grand four-poster bed with its canopy of rich fabric, Sineka's pale, frail figure seemed all the more fragile.
"You're awake," Crocodile said, his voice rougher than intended. He swallowed, unsure what to say next. Tears were not something he knew how to handle.
"Yes," Sineka whispered, her voice breaking as she sobbed softly. "I... I'm so relieved I found you."
"You're crying." The observation slipped from his mouth before he could stop it. He cleared his throat, tugging awkwardly at his cravat as if loosening it might ease the tension curling in his chest.
Sineka let out a breathless, shaky laugh, her hazel eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "I know. I just—" Her lips trembled as her shoulders hitched with another sob. "I didn't think I'd make it."
Crocodile drew the chair away from the nearby mahogany desk and lowered himself into it with slow deliberation. His eyes never left her. "Are you hurt anywhere?"
"Not anymore." Her gaze dropped to her lap, where her fingers twisted the edge of the blanket draped across her legs. "How long have I been unconscious?"
"A few hours," he replied. "It's still the same day." His tone shifted, heavy with something unreadable. "What happened, Sineka?"
Her lips parted as if to speak, but no sound came. Instead, she pressed her trembling fingers against her mouth, her shoulders quivering beneath the soft silk of her nightgown. Crocodile remained silent, though his hands had curled into fists atop his knees. He needed to know the truth—no matter how much he might hate hearing it.
"Many things," she managed at last. "Gods... I'm so happy to see you again." A tear slipped down her cheek as she met his gaze, her voice strained with the effort of holding herself together. "I don't even know where to start... Father arrived the day you left Frostheaven. He—" Her breath hitched. "He told me... everyone thought we'd already slept together, and now you didn't want me anymore. That I'd brought shame to the family name."
Crocodile's jaw clenched as tightly as his fists.
"He said... you had to marry me whether you wanted to or not—because you'd already bought me from him." Her voice cracked as she repeated the cruel words. "He ordered me to pack my bags and leave with him that very day."
The firelight reflected in her tear-filled eyes, casting shadows across her hollowed cheeks and too-prominent collarbones. Crocodile forced himself to remain still, though the weight of his rage burned hot beneath his skin.
"He locked me in his room for the entire journey. Twice a day, someone would bring me a meal, but it was..." Her hands curled into fists atop her lap. "It wasn't enough. I begged for more, but they wouldn't listen."
Crocodile's teeth ground together. He had seen enough to know what had been done. She hadn't simply been imprisoned—she'd been starved into submission, her strength whittled away until she could barely stand. His pulse thundered in his ears.
"It took fifteen days to reach Serapha," she whispered.
Fifteen days. The thought sent a jolt of something dark through Crocodile's chest. But it wasn't the length of the journey that made his skin crawl—it was the three days unaccounted for. She had arrived on the fifteenth day... yet he had only found her on the eighteenth.
As if sensing the question poised behind his gaze, Sineka shook her head, her eyes pleading with him not to ask. She didn't want to recount those missing days. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
"He left me on the shore," she said, her voice raw. "Said he didn't care what happened to me after that." Her shoulders curled inward as if she could shrink beneath the memory. "I looked for someone to help, but everywhere I turned, there were... vultures. Men with hungry eyes and wives who looked like broken dolls. It wasn't like Alabasta. No one answered me when I asked about the gambling hell, and some of them—" Her breath hitched as she squeezed her eyes shut. "Some of them tried to touch me."
A low growl rumbled deep in Crocodile's chest before he could stop it. His knuckles whitened as his fists tightened until his nails bit into his palms. His fury simmered beneath the surface, dark and cold, but he forced himself to stay rooted in place.
"I panicked," Sineka continued, curling in on herself as if she could disappear within the folds of her blanket. "I just kept walking because I had to find you. I had no money... so I couldn't stop. But yesterday, I found a little shelter. I must have fallen asleep because when I woke up, my luggage was gone."
Her voice broke entirely, and she bent forward, clutching her arms tightly around herself as if to hold the fractured pieces of her soul together. "I kept walking. I—I thought I was so close... I thought I finally found you, but then... everything went blank."
Crocodile closed his eyes briefly, the image of her limp, fragile body lying in the dirt burning itself into his mind. Cinnamon curls tangled and dirtied. Skin pale and too thin, like fragile porcelain ready to crack.
Sineka Duskblade—eldest daughter of Marcus Duskblade. Caged her entire life behind the frosted walls of Frostheaven. And when the gilded door had finally opened, it had only led her into another nightmare.
She should've never been forced to endure such horrors. Not because of him. Not because of anyone.
Crocodile inhaled slowly through his nose, fighting to steady the storm raging inside him. His gaze drifted to Sineka, still curled tightly as if bracing for a blow that might still fall. Something within him shifted—a tether pulled taut and unyielding.
"You should've never gone through that," he said at last, his voice low but thick with a restrained fury he couldn't hide. "Not because of me. Not because of anyone."
Her breath hitched as she lifted her head slightly, meeting his gaze through the veil of tears. The weight of sorrow clung to her shoulders, but beneath it all, Crocodile saw something else—strength. Fragile now, perhaps, but still burning.
Slowly, as if afraid she might flinch, Crocodile extended his hand, resting it lightly on her trembling shoulder. The warmth of his touch broke the last thread of her composure.
A sob escaped her lips, raw and unbidden, echoing softly against the room's walls.