In her sleep, Celeste dreamed of a blissful time with her mother.
Her small body was too short to reach the sofa, but that didn't stop her from trying to jump as high as she could. Her vision was fixed on her mother's wide smile, her eyes shining with love. Her hair—like Celeste's—was black as ink, spilling over her shoulders as she held a pair of knitting needles.
"Mama, mama, what are you making?" Celeste asked.
"I'm making a sweater, baby. Just for you. Do you like it?" Her mother asked, showing off a piece of knitted fabric made of wool. It was a mixture of red and white. Celeste smiled wide.
"I love it. It's my favorite sweater ever," she said.
But that happiness, that piece of herself long forgotten, began to crumble. It fell apart slowly, like crumbs around a cookie.
Celeste watched as her mother, the one who had loved her like no one else, was swallowed by shadows. Her presence faded, leaving Celeste alone. The floor beneath her gave way, and she fell through a storm of memories—pain, abandonment, anger, jealousy, loneliness, sadness, hatred, and tears, all accumulating over the years.
And then she fell into a room, bathed in a terrible red hue that surrounded her like fire. Before an image that filled her with horror could fully form in her mind, Celeste opened her eyes.
A cold, unfamiliar cement ceiling came into view. The white light of the cell was bright, temporarily blinding her as she blinked away the sleepiness and shook off the lingering fear. But then she felt a weight beside her. Someone was sitting on the bed next to her.
Fear gripped her.
Was she caught? Had someone found her?
Suddenly, the memory of what had happened in that room came rushing back, cold and sharp like a wave crashing over her. A moment of forgetfulness had saved her from the terror, but it hadn't lasted long. She could feel the dull ache of pain coursing through her body—small pains here and there, but, to her relief, none where it mattered most.
She turned her head, and the effort alone made her wince in pain. But Celeste forced herself to face the person sitting beside her. She half-expected to see Mina or Orion—ready to scream at them for abandoning their family, for being selfish and cruel. But when she saw him, it was the last person she'd expected.
"Avond?" Celeste said before she could stop herself. Her heart leaped into her throat, a swell of relief flooding through her. She felt safest with him. Her eyes filled with tears, and she said his name again, "Avond."
"Celeste," he replied, after regaining his composure. He leaned closer, his eyes wide, his expression a mask of excitement. "Did you just… say my name?" he asked, staring at her in shock.
Celeste's heart raced, a surge of happiness spreading through her chest. She never thought she'd speak again, but there she was, calling out the name she'd only ever whispered in her wildest dreams—a secret she'd carry to her grave.
She nodded, though confusion still gripped her as her voice caught in her throat again. It was maddening to have something so freeing taken from her. Her mind raced, trying to figure out what had triggered her speech. She ignored Avond's expectant gaze, but when she didn't say anything, he sighed.
"Celeste," he began, his voice firm. "What were you doing alone at the motel?" he demanded.
Celeste looked up, meaning to answer, but found her voice trapped again. What would he think of her now? That she was faking it? She searched the floor for her notebook and pen and found them under the bed. Her hands were shaking as she pulled them from her backpack.
Just as she was about to write, Avond's warm hand wrapped around hers, stilling her movements. His calloused skin was comforting against her cold fingers. Up close, Celeste noticed the sharp edges of his eyes, how tired they looked under thick lashes, and the deep blue shade she had never seen in anyone else. His nose was long and straight, his lips thin, but there was something wild about his beauty that captivated her, making her fear that it would break her heart.
"You don't need to be afraid," Avond said softly, letting go of her hand. His voice was calm now, allowing her to focus and find her notepad.
She wrote: I was running away.
Avond's expression remained steady, his thoughts unreadable. "So… you were planning on disappearing?" he asked. "It's because of Tiel, isn't it?"
Celeste nodded, leaning heavily against the wall. Maybe it was the suddenness of her decision, but now that she was sitting beside Avond, the reality of everything was starting to settle in.
"This is serious, Celeste," Avond said, leaning on one knee as he collected his thoughts. She wrote: Are you going to return me to my family? Please don't, I don't want to marry Tiel.
Avond closed his eyes, as though in pain. Celeste held her breath, hoping he would help her escape, keep her somewhere safe. But when he spoke, her hopes faltered.
"You need to think this through," he said, shaking his head. "It's not just about leaving your family behind. This is about betraying Tiel and my father. They won't take this well. They'll take it personally."
A chill ran down Celeste's spine. She remembered the cruelty she had seen in Tiel's eyes, a shadow of malice lurking behind the same shade of blue as Avond's. The room seemed to grow hotter, and a sense of panic gripped her. She needed to escape.
Sensing her distress, Avond placed a hand on her shoulder. "But they'll understand if you explain what happened. Not even my father can ignore your concerns if you talk to him."
Celeste nodded, her gaze dropping. A wave of disappointment bloomed in her chest. Perhaps everything she had believed about Avond, who had always seemed to save her, was just that—belief. He was loyal to his family. He was part of them.
"You can stay here until you're ready," Avond said, standing up. He looked suddenly older, his hair messy, his clothes stained and dirty. He must have had a long night.
"Hey, is everything alright in here?" a female voice called from the doorway.
Avond stepped outside, telling the girl to take care of Celeste before leaving. The girl, small but with a kind smile, approached Celeste. Her wide doe eyes gleamed with curiosity, and her long black hair swayed as she moved toward her. Up close, she was so sweet she seemed far too cute to be called beautiful.
"I'm Jade Suide," she said, placing a hand on the bed. "What's your name?"
Celeste wrote: Celeste. Nice to meet you.
"Nice to meet you too," Jade replied. "I heard what happened. You should really be careful out there—especially at night. That's when bad things tend to happen." She rubbed her knee in a small, comforting gesture that made Celeste feel a little better.
"I'll keep that in mind," Celeste wrote.
"That's good," Jade said. "You were lucky Wouter found you when he did. Things could have gone a lot worse. So… why were you out there by yourself?"
Celeste glanced at her notebook, unsure what to say. After a moment, she wrote: I don't know what to say. I agreed to something I regret, so I ran away.
Jade leaned closer and smiled as if she understood. "Wouter told me. You agreed to marry Tiel, right? Honey, I don't blame you for running away. That man is a monster."
Celeste couldn't help but smile. It was the first time anyone had said something that made her feel understood like she wasn't the one in the wrong.
"Oh no," Jade added, her eyes widening. "Please don't cry. Avond's going to kill me if he thinks I made you cry."
Celeste shook her head, writing: No. He won't. He's going to send me back to my parents.
Jade gasped. "I don't believe you. That guy can be the toughest, strongest badass out there, but the truth is, he's a softie. I'll go talk to him, okay? I'm sure he's changing his mind right now."
Celeste dared to believe her. But as Jade left to speak with Avond, Celeste considered running away herself. Bathhouses were a common place for the temporarily homeless—five hours on foot wasn't ideal, but it was better than being a punching bag for Tiel.
"Alright, don't move," Jade said, leaving the cell door open. "I'll go talk to him."
Celeste swallowed, then silently began to move. She apologized to Jade in her head—the first girl who had ever made her feel normal.
But one thing was clear to Celeste: she understood Avond Brightwell. He was loyal to his family, first and foremost. He wouldn't betray them. And the dreamer in her had foolishly hoped he would do so for her. Something she would never let happen again.