Page 179 of Echoes of the Banshee

“What does it mean?” he asks her.

“I–I’m not sure.” She pauses. “I didn’t think you were that close to death. I’m so sorry B.”

“You think I died?” he asks.

There’s no response for a minute and I’m tempted to sneak to look in the window. Instead I keep staring out.

“Can you cast an illusion to hide it?” he asks her.

“I can for now,” she tells him. “But we will need to figure out a permanent solution for when I die.”

My heart stutters and I’m on my feet.

When I die?

“We will stop it,” Benson says, his voice full of resolve.

“Don’t worry about that now. I’ll figure something out. Can you craft something?”

“Thea…” He pauses. “We will find your Lazlo and stop your death. I promise. You won’t die again.”

He moves, she lets out a content sigh. A hug?

“It’s fine. We can talk about it tomorrow.”

They go back to the bed.

My phone vibrates and I look down.

Signs of magical artifacts used.

Contacting The Ringed Hand for assistance.

Thea

Of All the Mornings to Wake Up Pants-less

Iwake to warmth. Too much warmth. The air is thick and stifling, and as I blink into consciousness, I realize that Zair is pressed up against me from behind, his arms wrapped around me in a protective embrace. His chest is flush against my back, and I can feel the steady rise and fall of his breathing, the heat radiating from him like a living shield.

B is sprawled across the other side, one hand holding mine as I sleep on his other arm. I hesitate, not wanting to disturb the peaceful silence between us. There’s something soothing about their warmth, about being surrounded by their presence, even if it’s a little too close for comfort.

For a moment, I just breathe, letting the sensation wash over me. A rare, unfamiliar contentment hums through my chest, soft and deep, as if some fractured part of me is finally piecing itself together. My soul feels steadier somehow. I could stay here forever.

Reality slowly creeps in. I really need to pee.

I carefully begin to untangle myself from the mess of limbs, my movements slow and deliberate as I try not to wake them. Crawling over Zair’s body feels intimate, and my cheeks flush with heat, especially when I remember I’m not wearing any pants. He stirs slightly, but doesn’t wake. B grumbles in his sleep, shifting a little, but remains blissfully unaware of my careful escape.

I shuffle toward the bathroom, breathing a quiet sigh of relief once I’m alone. When I return, I decide to make myself some coffee. I use the little Keurig machine I found while snooping around yesterday. As the hot liquid swirls in my cup, I take a deep breath, letting silence settle over me. There is a note on the counter from Mavrik that he went to run.

I wander to the window, hoping to catch the sunrise. I nearly drop my cup when I notice a very large jaguar is curled up in front of the door, his sleek form unmistakable even in the faint morning light. Ollin. I assume he’s sleeping until his head lifts, golden eyes meeting mine. I smile, lifting my chin in a small, wordless invitation.

The scent of coffee fills the room as I settle onto the recliner, cradling my mug. Dylan’s snoring softens. His breathing shifts, and a moment later, his eyes blink open. I offer him a soft smile.

“Morning,” I whisper.

“How are you feeling today?” he asks, his voice thick with sleep.

“Safe,” I say with a smile. “Hard not to when you wake up in a dog pile.” I gesture to the bed where Zair and B are still sleeping.