The rain had returned by nightfall, tapping softly against the tall arched windows of Blackthorn Academy. Selene sat curled in the window alcove of her dorm, the ancient Raventhorn tome open across her knees. The candlelight cast long, flickering shadows over the pages, but her eyes remained unfocused.
She hadn't slept. Not really. Not since the fire. Not since reading the blood of the last true heir will awaken the Forgotten.
What did it mean? Who were the Forgotten?
The words haunted her, threading themselves into every thought, unraveling what little peace she had left. Each time she blinked, she saw the flicker of flame, heard the crackle of burning wood, smelled the smoke that still seemed to linger in her hair no matter how many times she washed it.
A knock interrupted her spiraling thoughts.
She didn't need to ask. She knew it was him.
"Come in," she said quietly.
Matthew entered, not with his usual swagger, but something gentler. He wore a simple black tunic, his damp hair tousled, and there was a softness in his crimson eyes that tugged at something deep within her.
"You should be resting," he said.
Selene gave a faint smile. "So should you."
He hesitated before crossing the room and sitting on the floor beside her alcove, leaning against the wall. "You've been quiet."
"So have you."
"I figured you needed space," he murmured. "But I didn't want you to feel alone."
The words sank into her like warmth after frost. Selene closed the book and looked down at him.
"I don't know what I am anymore, Matthew. Every answer leads to another secret. I don't know who to trust. I don't even know if I can trust myself."
He looked up at her, his jaw tight. "Then trust me."
She blinked, caught off guard by the steadiness in his voice.
"I mean it," he said, standing slowly. "You've always carried yourself like you're made of armor. Like nothing touches you. But it's okay to be afraid, Selene. It doesn't make you weaker."
A flicker of emotion passed through her—unwelcome and too intense. "I'm not afraid."
"You are," he said softly. "But you're not alone."
He stepped closer, and something in her chest cracked open. Selene looked away, afraid that if she met his gaze too long, she'd say something she couldn't take back.
"You don't have to save the world alone," he said.
"I'm not trying to save the world. Just survive it."
He gave a small, sad smile. "Same thing."
Silence stretched between them, heavy with things left unsaid. Then, quietly, Matthew reached for her hand.
His touch was careful, unsure—like he expected her to pull away. But she didn't. Their fingers intertwined, and for the first time in what felt like days, Selene let herself exhale.
"I keep thinking about what Aurelian said," she whispered. "That admiration isn't loyalty. That allies are fickle."
Matthew's grip tightened. "He's not wrong. But he's not right either. You're not just admired, Selene. You matter. To me."
That last part hung in the air like a suspended breath.
Selene turned to him slowly, her voice barely above a whisper. "Why do you care?"
He hesitated. "Because you make me want to be better. Because when I'm with you, I don't feel like I have to pretend I'm invincible."
Her heart thudded painfully. She searched his face, trying to find the catch, the mask, the trap. But there was only sincerity.
She looked away, suddenly overwhelmed. "I'm still trying to figure out who I am. What my bloodline means. What this power could do."
"And I'll be here while you do," he said. "Not because I want something from you. But because you deserve someone in your corner."
She let her forehead rest against the cool glass. "They're watching me. The Council. The professors. I can feel it—like I'm walking on a wire."
"You're not going to fall," Matthew said. "But even if you do... I'll catch you."
Selene's throat tightened. She hated how much she wanted to believe that. How much she needed to.
A gust of wind slammed against the window, and the candle sputtered violently. Selene stiffened.
"What was that?" Matthew asked, instantly alert.
She stood, moving to the book on the desk. The pages were glowing faintly again, symbols rearranging themselves like a puzzle shifting.
"It's reacting," she murmured. "Something's coming."
Matthew stepped beside her, tense. "Do you think the Forgotten are real?"
Selene ran her fingers along the text. "If they are... I think I might be the reason they wake."
He didn't speak for a long time. Then he said, "Then we wake them together."
She looked up, startled. "You'd risk that?"
"I already have," he said, voice firm. "Whatever's waiting in that book, in that prophecy—Selene, I'm not going anywhere."
The firelight caught the edge of his face, casting shadows that softened his sharp features. And in that moment, Selene saw him not just as the academy's strongest half-blood, or her fiercest rival.
She saw him as her anchor.
Her heartbeat echoed in her ears.
For the first time, she whispered, "Thank you."
Matthew smiled—genuinely, gently. "Anytime, Raventhorn."
He hesitated for a second longer, then leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead before turning away. The door closed behind him with a quiet click, but the space he left behind stayed warm.
Selene stood there, hand on the tome, feeling something shift inside her. The fear hadn't disappeared—but now, it had somewhere to rest. With him. With Matthew.
She sat down again, opened the book, and began to read, this time not just as the last Raventhorn—but as someone who no longer had to face the shadows alone.