Deborah's POV
In silence, Chad and I left the vault, our footsteps echoing softly through the empty corridor as we headed back to the airship. The atmosphere between us was heavy, filled with an unspoken tension that neither of us acknowledged. His pace was steady, his expression unreadable, as though nothing could disrupt his composure.
When we reached the airship, Chad climbed in first, his movements as precise as always. He adjusted the controls with the ease of someone who had done this a thousand times before. I settled into my seat, fastening the belt and glancing out the window as the engines hummed to life.
Slowly, the airship lifted off, and the ground beneath us began to fade. The towering remnants of Hybrasil's structures, along with the crisscrossing streets, blurred together, shrinking until they vanished into the horizon. I kept my gaze fixed on the view, but my mind was anything but calm. My thoughts churned, conflicted and unsettled.
"Hybrasil is vast," Chad remarked, breaking the silence. His tone was neutral, almost contemplative, as though stating an obvious fact.
I didn't respond. There was no disputing it—Hybrasil was the largest of the five sky cities. But this wasn't a conversation I wanted to have.
Chad, undeterred by my silence, continued, "Its population used to be about the same as Tirfothuinn's now, give or take."
His words hit me like a sharp gust of wind. I turned to look at him, studying the calm profile of his face. Was this an offhand comment, or was he implying something?
The neutrality of his expression gave nothing away. He kept his eyes on the controls, his features as composed as ever.
I said nothing, but the weight of his statement lingered in the air between us. What was he suggesting? What connection was he drawing between Hybrasil and Tirfothuinn?
The airship touched down in Ablach, and Chad departed without a word. He vanished into the city as swiftly as we had arrived, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
Days passed, and Chad seemed to vanish from my daily life. Lugh kept himself busy, immersed in matters I wasn't privy to, and Chad often accompanied him like a shadow. Whatever they were planning, it was clear they were playing a long and calculated game.
I couldn't shake the feeling that this game involved Tirfothuinn—and perhaps even the Thorne and Vandran families. Lugh never moved a piece on his chessboard without a purpose, and I suspected I'd only glimpsed the edges of his strategy.
Chad's words from the flight haunted me. "Hybrasil's population used to be about the same as Tirfothuinn's now."
At first glance, it seemed like an innocuous observation, but the more I thought about it, the more significant it felt. Was there a message hidden in his words? Or was this another one of Chad's cryptic remarks meant to keep me guessing?
Then, an idea began to form.
Perhaps moving Hybrasil's weapons to Tirfothuinn wasn't the solution. The logistics were daunting, and Chad was right: without airships, the task was nearly impossible. But what if Tirfothuinn's warriors came to Hybrasil instead?
The city had space, resources, and a strategic position within the sky cities. Hybrasil was already fortified, equipped to sustain and protect its inhabitants. It could become the staging ground for Tirfothuinn's resistance—a stronghold in the skies, poised to counterattack.
Hybrasil was more than a ruin; it was a legacy. It belonged to the Lee family, and as its last rightful heir, I had the authority to make this decision. If Tirfothuinn's warriors took shelter here, they could fight back against the other sky cities without the risks of retreating to the underground.
But I couldn't ignore the cost. Relocating Tirfothuinn's people here would mean declaring war. It would mark the beginning of a conflict that could not be undone. Was I prepared for that?
The weight of the decision pressed heavily on me, but the more I thought about it, the more certain I became. Hybrasil, once my family's greatest creation, could now become Tirfothuinn's greatest hope.
I clenched my fists, determination settling in my chest. I couldn't let fear dictate my choices. Hybrasil was my home and my heritage, and now it was time to use it to protect what mattered most.
The next day, I found myself standing outside Chad's apartment. My hand hovered over the door, hesitation tightening in my chest. I hadn't seen Matthew in days, and guilt prickled at the edges of my thoughts. My focus on Tirfothuinn had consumed me, and in doing so, I'd neglected him.
Still, I knocked.
The door opened almost immediately.
Matthew stood there, his calm expression dissolving into one of raw emotion the moment he saw me. Without a word, he reached out, grabbing my hand and pulling me inside. Before I could react, he shut the door behind us and wrapped his arms around me in a fierce embrace.
It was sudden, almost desperate; his grip so tight it felt as though I might break. But I didn't push him away. Instead, I stood still, letting the force of his emotions wash over me. His arms encircled me like a barrier, as though he feared I might slip away if he let go.
"Matthew," I murmured, his name catching in my throat like an unspoken plea. I tried to gently pull back, but he only held me tighter.
His face was buried in the curve of my neck, his breath hot and uneven against my skin. He didn't speak. He didn't need to. Every ounce of his worry, his longing, and his frustration poured into that embrace.
I raised a hand to his back, offering the only comfort I could. My fingers brushed against the fabric of his shirt, and I felt him shudder beneath my touch.
It was a long time before he loosened his hold, and even then, his gaze didn't leave my face. His eyes were dark, filled with emotions I couldn't name—relief, hurt, love, and something deeper, something that made my chest ache.
Just as I opened my mouth to speak, he leaned down and kissed me.
The kiss was unexpected, but it felt inevitable. His hands cupped my face, his touch warm and steady as though grounding me to the moment.
It wasn't just a kiss. It was a claim, an unspoken declaration of everything he felt and hadn't said. It was tender yet urgent, filled with an ache that mirrored my own.
I froze at first, caught off guard by the intensity of it. But as his lips moved against mine, something within me softened. I closed my eyes and let myself fall into him, my thoughts scattering like leaves in the wind.
His breath mingled with mine as his lips pressed against me with tender insistence. It wasn't rushed, but there was a fervor beneath the surface, a quiet desperation that made my heart race.
I didn't resist. I couldn't. Instead, I matched his rhythm, mirroring the unspoken promises and reassurances he offered with silent ones of my own.
In that moment, there was no war, no sky cities, no plans or betrayals. There was only Matthew, his love, and the solace I found in his arms.