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All I can do is lean back into him, the weight of his body behind me, bringing a sense of comfort that I haven’t felt in a long time. The warmth of his touch, the way he is holding me, protecting me, is a strange contradiction to the fear still clawing at my chest. I feel safe here, with him, in a way I haven’t in so long.

I don’t know how long we stay like this. Time blurs. The world outside the bed fades. It is just him and me, entwined in the quiet of the night, and for once, I’m not running from anything.

Eventually, I drift back to sleep, this time without the nightmares.

When I wake again, the room is bathed in the soft light of dawn, the first rays of morning filtering through the curtains. My eyes flutter open, and I feel a warmth against my back. I almost forget where I am until the memory of the night comes rushing back.

Oberon is still there, his chest pressed against my back, his arms wrapped around me like a shield. His steady breathing tells me he is still asleep, but the fact that we are so close, his body against mine, our limbs tangled, makes everything feel . . . complicated.

I try to move, to ease myself away, but his grip tightens ever so slightly, as if sensing the shift. I freeze, unsure of how to process the knot in my chest. He hasn’t moved, hasn’t let go of me throughout the night. The way he holds me has been more than just protective. It is . . . intimate. I can feel his heart beating against my back, a comforting rhythm in the stillness of the morning.

A wave of conflicting emotions surges through me: gratitude, warmth, guilt, confusion. I don’t know if I should be thankful or frustrated that he hasn’t let me go, that he held me through my fear, through my nightmares. I don’t know if I should feel safe or . . . exposed.

His grip loosens slightly, and I hear him murmur something under his breath, too quiet to catch. For a brief moment, I think he is still asleep, but then he shifts again, the movement gentle. “I didn’t mean to . . .” His voice is rough with sleep, but there is something tender there that catches my breath.

“You didn’t mean to what?” I ask hesitantly.

He doesn’t answer right away, but his hold on me doesn’t falter. Instead, he pulls me a little closer, pressing a kiss to the back of my neck, as if he isn’t ready for this strange moment between us to end and is willing to test its boundaries. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” he says softly, the words a confession. “I just . . . couldn’t leave you like that.”

My throat bobs as the words settle over me, strange yet calming. I don’t know how to respond or if I should respond at all, but for the moment, this quiet of the morning, with his arms securely around me, I get this sense like maybe everything will be okay. I’m not ready to leave the safety of his embrace, but the tension between us is too much, and I’m not sure what it means or how I am supposed to feel about this. About him?

When I don’t say anything, Oberon gently pulls away, though his hand remains on my back for a moment longer than necessary. He sits up, the motion smooth, casual, like this is normal, natural even. “Let’s get moving,” he says, his tone more commanding now, as he reaches for his clothes.

But as he moves toward the door, I can’t help but feel the heaviness in the air between us. It is more than just the nightmares. Something is shifting between us, something neither of us can ignore. Something I’m not ready to face yet, but I can feel it coming.

Chapter twenty-two

A Long Way to Go

The air around us hums with energy.

Ash stands a few steps ahead, his hands weaving intricate patterns in the air as the shimmering wormhole takes shape before us. The swirling light is mesmerizing, yet daunting. My stare remains fixed on it, heart racing as the portal pulsates with an otherworldly pull.

I have already ventured through them twice, but even still, the idea puts my nerves on high alert. My breath hitches as I watch the swirling colors, the faint outlines of distant lands flickering through.

“Ready?” Ash’s voice is casual, but there is an undercurrent of amusement in it.

“Not even close,” I mutter under my breath, the uncertainty creeping in. The very idea of stepping through something so . . . unstable, so alien, is still unnerving.

“Just relax, Lyra,” Ash urges, knowing how I feel about this form of travel. “A quick step, and you’re through.”

I glance over at Oberon, who is standing beside me. He hasn’t said a word yet, but his presence feels like a solid anchor in the midst of my rising panic. “Don’t overthink it,” Oberon says softly, as though reading my mind and taking another step closer.

I shoot him a warning glare just in case he is getting ideas about trying to carry me again.

Oberon’s lips quirk into a brief smirk, his hands moving slowly toward me, as if measuring my every reaction.

My heartbeat speeds up as his fingers brush against the small of my back. The gesture is subtle, comforting even, but it doesn’t stop the flutter of nerves that prickles my skin.

“Don’t think,” he adds softly, his voice barely above a whisper, “Just follow me. You’re not alone.” His hand lingers there, a steady warmth radiating through the thin fabric of my blouse.

I stiffen, but it is hard to ignore the feeling of reassurance that spreads through me at his touch. Oberon is solid, unyielding, and somehow, that steadiness is grounding.

The weight of his words settles over me. A fleeting moment of doubt tries to claw its way to the surface, but I shove it down. Being weak isn’t an option. The fear will not win. Not when everything is at stake.

With a deep breath, I take a cautious step toward the spiraling vortex. But my foot hesitates before fully crossing the threshold.

Oberon, ever the perceptive one, doesn’t push, but he takes a half-step closer, standing just behind me so close I can feel his breath. His voice, as gentle as it was moments ago, brushes against my ear, “I’ve got you, every step of the way, I’ll be at your side.” His words carry more than just the challenges at hand, but a promise of a future where I am not alone. Surprisingly, I believe them. Giving me the last of the strength needed to take the next step.