The slam of the door echoed through the shack like a thunderclap, the fragile wooden frame shuddering under the force of Aria's fury.
For a breathless moment, Lila feared the entire structure might collapse—the walls groaning, the roof trembling as if mirroring the tempest of emotions that had just stormed out.
Then, silence.
A heavy, suffocating silence.
Lila turned to Erin, her chest tight. His face was unreadable, his jaw clenched so hard she could see the muscle twitching beneath his skin.
"You had to tell her," she said, her voice low but unyielding. "She deserved to know what fate you're choosing. She's not some child you can shield from the truth, she's your elder sister"
Erin's eyes flashed—dark, dangerous.
"You think I don't know that?" His voice was a raw, ragged thing, stripped bare of its usual calm. "But you couldn't even wait a few hours? Let her have one night without this hanging over her?"
Lila didn't flinch. "And when would have been the right time, Erin? After dessert? After stargazing? Or maybe never—is that what you wanted?"
Something in him snapped.
"ENOUGH!"
The word tore from his throat, sharp enough to make Lila stiffen. For the first time since she'd known him, Erin yelled—not in frustration, not in annoyance, but in genuine, unfiltered rage.
Then, just like Aria, he turned and stormed out, the door slamming shut behind him with a finality that left the air hollow.
Lila exhaled slowly.
She didn't feel guilty.
But she did wonder if she could have waited just a little longer.
***
Night fell like a velvet curtain, the sky awash with countless stars, each one a pinprick of cold, distant light. Aria sat alone on a weathered wooden bench outside the shack, her knees drawn to her chest, her gaze fixed on a single, brilliant point in the heavens—the Guardian's Eye, burning brighter than all the rest.
The crunch of footsteps on dry earth broke the stillness.
"Mom always told us stories about the Guardian's Eye," Erin's voice cut through the quiet, softer now, but no less firm. "How it watches over us after the sun sets. You know what else she said?" He stepped closer, his shadow stretching long in the silvered light. "That it always protects us. No matter what."
Aria didn't look at him.
"And now she's dead."
The words were a knife, cold and precise.
Erin flinched, but didn't retreat.
"If you're not here to tell me you're not going south," Aria continued, her voice brittle, "then just leave."
"Aria—"
"No." She finally turned, her golden eyes glistening with unshed tears. "Everything I've ever done was to protect you," Erin said, his voice cracking. "If I don't go—if we don't stop whatever's coming—what's to say it won't find its way here? To you?"
Aria's breath hitched.
"So there's no talking you out of this," she whispered.
Erin shook his head.
A long silence stretched between them, broken only by the whisper of the wind through the trees.
Then, Aria exhaled, her shoulders slumping in defeat.
"Then there's nothing I can do," she murmured, "except pray the Guardians keep you safe."
Erin's lips quirked into a faint, tired smile. "Don't worry too much. The captain already gave us orders to abandon the mission if our lives are on the line."
Aria stood abruptly, her arms wrapping around him in a crushing embrace. Erin stiffened for a heartbeat before melting into it, his own arms tightening around her.
"You've always been right before," she whispered into his shoulder. "I just hope you're right now."
Erin closed his eyes, pressing his cheek against her hair.
Above them, the Guardian's Eye shone on—silent, watchful, and utterly unmoved by the fragile hearts below.
***
The dawn crept over the horizon like a hesitant intruder, painting the sky in muted hues of gold and lavender.
The air was crisp, carrying the scent of dew-kissed grass and the faint, lingering aroma of last night's spiced honey cake. Inside the shack, the atmosphere was thick with unspoken words, the weight of impending separation pressing down on them like a physical force.
Erin stood before Aria, his hands trembling slightly as he pressed a heavy pouch into her palms. The coins inside clinked softly, a metallic whisper of sacrifice and love.
"Three thousand coins," he said, his voice rough with emotion. "That's everything I've saved since joining the Vigil."
Aria's fingers closed around the pouch, her grip tight as if she could anchor him to this moment through sheer will. "Erin—"
"And when I come back," he interrupted, forcing a grin that didn't quite reach his eyes, "there'll be even more. Enough to buy you that fancy academy tuition you've been eyeing. And a new home"
Aria's breath hitched. Then, without warning, she flung her arms around him, burying her face in his chest. "You better come back and fulfill your promises," she muttered, her voice muffled against his shirt. "Or I'll hunt you down in the afterlife and drag you back by your ears."
Erin chuckled, but it sounded more like a choked sob. "Wouldn't expect anything less."
When they finally pulled apart, Aria turned to Lila, her golden eyes sharp and pleading. "You're in charge of him now," she said, her tone leaving no room for argument. "Protect him. Or else."
Lila smirked, crossing her arms. "Oh, I got it. But just so you know, he's more of a liability than anything."
Aria's lips twitched. "Good. That means you'll keep a closer eye on him."
And they both left.
***
Lila walked ahead, her boots crunching deliberately on dry leaves, her posture rigid with purpose. Erin trailed behind like a scolded puppy, kicking pebbles in her path, clearing his throat unnecessarily, and even slowing his pace to an almost comical crawl—all in a desperate bid to get her to talk to him.
Silence.
More silence.
Excruciating silence.
Finally, Erin snapped.
"STOP DOING THIS!" he exploded, throwing his hands up. "This—this mind torture thing! It's killing me!"
Lila stopped dead in her tracks. Slowly, she turned, arching one delicate eyebrow. "What," she said flatly, "are you talking about?"
Erin groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "You're mad at me! I know you are! Probably because of what happened yesterday, and—look, I'm sorry, okay? Just say something!"
Lila stared at him.
Then she laughed—a bright, melodic sound that seemed utterly out of place in the midst of his suffering.
"Oh my gods," she wheezed, clutching her stomach. "I thought you didn't know how to use the word 'sorry'!"
Erin scowled. "I don't. It's a rare and painful experience."
Lila wiped a tear from her eye, still giggling. "I'm not mad at you, you idiot. If anything, I should've waited before dropping that mission bomb on your sister like that."
Erin blinked. "Wait, really?"
"Really." She shrugged. "But honestly? If I hadn't told her, you'd have probably chickened out and left her with some vague 'I'll be gone for a while' nonsense."
Erin opened his mouth to protest—then closed it. "...Okay, fair."
Lila grinned triumphantly. "So now you understand why I did it?"
"Ugh. Unfortunately."
Their bickering was cut short by the sound of rustling bushes. A familiar figure emerged from the foliage—Garrett, his massive frame weighed down by an overstuffed backpack, his face flushed with exertion.
"Heyyy, lovebirds!" he called, waving enthusiastically.
Lila's eye twitched. "We are not—"
"Uncle gave me supplies!" Garrett barreled on, oblivious. He swung the backpack around, nearly toppling over from its sheer bulk. "Dried meat, herbs, even a secret family-recipe stamina potion! Said I'd need it for the mission." He waggled his eyebrows. "You know. For endurance."
Erin choked.
Lila looked heavenward, as if praying for patience. "Garrett. Your uncle is terrifying."
Garrett beamed. "I know! Best uncle ever."
Erin shook his head, muttering under his breath. "Why are we friends with you again?"
Garrett slung an arm around both their shoulders, nearly crushing them under his weight—and the backpack. "Because no one else puts up with you two or your unresolved sexual tension!"
Lila's face turned an impressive shade of scarlet. "I—what—THAT'S NOT—"
Erin, meanwhile, had given up entirely, his face buried in his hands.
And so, amidst the bickering, the teasing, and Garrett's horrifying uncle anecdotes, the trio continued their journey back to base—the earlier tension forgotten, replaced by the familiar, comforting chaos of their friendship.
Somewhere above, the Guardian's Eye watched on, its light unwavering.
For now, at least, all was right in their world.