The sunlight filtered through the gaps between the city's high-rises, glaring off glass windows and leaving the streets dappled with shifting patches of light. Ravensmoor was alive with the usual noise of car horns, the hum of engines, and the chatter of people spilling out of coffee shops and food trucks. It should have felt familiar—comforting even—but to Eira, it was a strange, disjointed melody, one that didn't quite align with the rhythm of her own steps.
She pulled her jacket tighter, her sneakers padding softly against the cracked pavement as she wound through the familiar streets. The air smelled faintly of gasoline and fried food, mixing with the metallic tang of the subway vent she passed. This was her world, her home, but it felt distant now, like looking at a photograph of a life she couldn't quite remember living.
Eira's gaze darted to every corner. Every alley seemed darker than it should have been, even in the broad daylight. A truck backfired down the street, and she flinched, her heart racing before her mind caught up. Behind her, footsteps echoed in perfect rhythm with her own.
She didn't look back. She didn't have to.
Caius's guards had been shadowing her since she'd left the castle, their presence a constant weight on her shoulders. She caught glimpses of them sometimes—a tall figure in a dark coat blending into the crowd or the faint glint of sunglasses as one of them lingered by a streetlamp. They weren't subtle, but they weren't meant to be.
When she finally reached her apartment building, the familiar sight of its weathered brick facade made her pause. For a moment, she just stood there, staring at the graffiti-scrawled entrance and listening to the distant buzz of a neighbor's TV. It felt surreal to be back. The memory of Caius's golden eyes and the suffocating weight of the castle walls still lingered like a phantom touch.
A shadow moved in her periphery, and she turned her head slightly, catching the figure of a man standing casually by a parked car. He was tall and broad-shouldered, his dark coat blending into the muted colors of the city. His gaze wasn't on her, but she knew he was watching.
The creak of the building's old elevator was almost a relief as it carried her to the fourth floor. When she reached her apartment door, she paused again, her key hovering in the lock. She couldn't shake the irrational feeling that something waited for her on the other side.
Or maybe it wasn't so irrational.
A glance down the hall revealed two more guards stationed near the stairwell, their expressions neutral but alert. They didn't acknowledge her as she hesitated, but she felt their presence like a silent warning.
She hesitated briefly, listening for any sign of movement inside before pushing the key into the lock and turning it.
The door creaked as it swung open, and the familiar smell of her apartment hit her—a mix of fresh laundry, faint wood polish, and the lemon-scented soap Finn used to clean the counters.
"Finn?" she called softly, stepping inside and dropping her bag onto the floor.
There was no answer at first, but then a familiar voice called from the kitchen, tinged with disbelief. "Eira?"
Finn appeared in the doorway, his hair still damp from a recent shower and a towel slung over one shoulder. He blinked at her, as if he were seeing a ghost. "What the hell are you doing here?"
She froze under his gaze, unsure if his tone was one of relief or reproach. "I… I just wanted to check on you," she said, her voice quieter than she intended. "I haven't seen you since… everything."
Finn ran a hand through his hair, his surprise giving way to a faint, wry grin. "Well, you've got some nerve, sis." He stepped closer and enveloped her in a quick, tight hug. "I wasn't expecting you to show up at all, but it's good to see you."
Eira let out a shaky laugh, the knot of tension in her chest loosening just a bit. "It's good to see you too."
Finn pulled back and gave her a once-over, his brow furrowing slightly. "You look… different. You okay?"
"I'm fine," she said quickly, brushing past him into the small kitchen. "Better now that I'm here. What about you? How are you feeling?"
Finn leaned against the counter, crossing his arms. "Better every day. Still sore, but nothing I can't handle." He paused, his gaze flicking to the front window. "Though I gotta say, your entourage outside is a little unsettling. You bring them everywhere now?"
Eira stiffened, avoiding his gaze as she busied herself rummaging through the fridge. "It's… complicated. They're just here to make sure I'm safe."
Finn snorted. "Safe from what? The pizza delivery guy?"
She didn't answer, instead pulling out a carton of eggs and a block of cheese. "How about dinner?" she asked, changing the subject.
Finn hesitated for a moment before shrugging. "Sure. It's been a while since we've cooked together."
The tension between them eased as they fell into an old rhythm—chopping vegetables, whisking eggs, and arguing over the right amount of salt to add. The simple act of working side by side felt like stepping into a time capsule, back to a life that now seemed impossibly distant.
By the time the sun had dipped below the horizon, the two of them were seated on the couch, plates balanced precariously on their knees. Finn flipped through channels on the TV, finally settling on an old action movie they'd watched a hundred times growing up.
"I can't believe you still like this one," Eira teased, nudging him with her elbow.
"Hey, it's a classic," Finn shot back, grinning. "You're just jealous because I know all the lines by heart."
The movie played in the background as they ate, their laughter filling the small apartment. For the first time in weeks, Eira felt something close to normal—something almost like peace.
But even as she leaned back against the couch cushions, her gaze flicked toward the window. The faint silhouette of a figure standing near the streetlamp outside was still there, unmoving. Another shadow shifted on the fire escape, barely visible in the glow of the streetlights.
The guards.
Their presence was a constant reminder that this wasn't truly her world anymore. She wasn't free. Not really.
"Hey," Finn said, pulling her attention back. He gestured toward the TV. "You're missing the best part."
Eira smiled faintly, forcing herself to focus on the screen. "Wouldn't want to miss that."
As the movie wore on, the room grew quieter. The steady hum of the TV blended with the occasional creak of the old building settling. Finn's head lolled to the side, his breathing evening out as he drifted off, his plate still balanced on the arm of the couch.
Eira leaned back, her eyelids growing heavy. She fought against the pull of sleep, her mind racing with thoughts of the guards outside, the castle, Caius…
But exhaustion won out. Her head tilted to rest against Finn's shoulder, and she slipped into an uneasy sleep.
Outside, the guards remained in their positions—silent sentinels in the darkness. One stood near the front door, another stationed by the fire escape, and a third just beyond the window, barely visible in the faint light of the streetlamp.
The guards didn't move, their presence a constant, looming shadow over the apartment.
The city below buzzed with its usual life, oblivious to the silent watchers or the weight of the bond that stretched taut between Eira and the one who had sent them.
And as the last traces of sunlight vanished, the clock ticked closer to the moment when Eira's fragile freedom would slip away.