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Eventually, the thoughts I have been avoiding begin to creep back in, threatening to tear down the fragile walls I have built around this peace.

Reluctantly, I move to stand, wishing I could freeze this moment in time, that nothing before or after would matter.

As I stand, something slips from my pocket, a small object glinting in the grass. A coin? Maybe. A token? The thing Oberon gave me.

I bend to pick it up, turning it over in my hand with careful curiosity. It is small and delicate, a bronze metal disk with a single hole near the top where it might once have hung from a chain now long gone. The engraving on its surface is familiar, similar to the markings etched on the box that once held the necklace, similar to the symbols worn on Oberon’s skin.

I don’t know what they mean.

“For luck,” he said.

The coin appears worn with time, weathered, and discolored, an old relic that matches the rest of the items from the rustic cabin. I hold it up to the sun, studying it closely, searching for a clue, any hint of its purpose, or why Oberon gave it to me.

But there is nothing.

After a heartbeat, I slip it back into my pocket.

With one last glance at the sky, I turn toward the forest and start walking.

I am not entirely sure where I am going, but I hope I can at least navigate the path Oberon showed me. It seems like as good a place to start as any.

The growing distance between me and the cabin feels like a small reprieve, a breath I didn’t realize I was holding, finally released.

I don’t know what I am going to do with the tangled mess of thoughts swirling in my mind but putting space between me and that place feels right.

The path is barely visible, worn down by time and neglect, but familiar enough for me to follow. It winds its way toward the mountain’s edge, and I let my feet carry me forward while my mind drifts.

The thoughts come in waves, refusing to be silenced. He lied.

Their voices echo in my head. Both Oberon and Ash claim they were tricked into what happened. But lies or not, trickery or not, they still participated.

False pretenses don’t erase the truth of their actions.

And yet, Oberon’s words ring louder than my own thoughts.

I need you. I wasn’t ready to let you go. . . . I didn’t know how much you would mean to me.

The memory of his voice tightens something deep in my chest, an ache I have tried so hard to deny. Something I’m not sure I want to understand.

And then there was the kiss, a gentle kiss on the top of my head. Small, but impossible to ignore. I haven’t even tried to unpack what it means.

His touch still lingers on my skin, the ghost of his hands running softly down my arm, cupping my face with a tenderness I can’t put into words. The memory makes my breath catch.

Before I can fall too far into those thoughts, Ash’s voice cuts through, forcing his way into my mind to pull me back to reality. His words from weeks ago still echo, "How long have you been gracing this cabin with your presence?"

I haven’t kept track. Time blurred into one long, endless stretch. Months? The truth gnaws at me.

I have been captive for so long that it hasn’t even mattered. Maybe, after a hundred years, some part of me began to accept that existence. The thought boils my blood not at Ash, but at myself.

Condition one, I decide, if I choose to stay: I want to know how long I’ve been here.

I pause, glancing around. The towering trees loom above me, their dense canopy casting deep shadows as the sun begins its slow descent. The air has cooled, and the forest feels different, quieter, almost watchful.

Where am I?

I have been walking without paying attention, lost in my thoughts, and now nothing looks familiar. I turn slowly, scanning the dense woods, searching for some sign that I am still on the path Oberon showed me, time making it hard to recall.

A chill creeps up my spine. Fear, panic, and anxiety all press in at once.