Chapter 58: The Death Of Annie & Other Beautiful Lies (Her POV)
I had already laid myself bare once in Luxor's bed. The light hadn't saved me. It had seen me and found me lacking. Whether Malvor would still touch me…That felt like I question I couldn't survive asking.
I walked through Luxor's golden halls, the rune glowing up my arm like liquid sunlight. Beautiful. Elegant. And meaningless. I had wanted the light to do something. Blind me. Burn me clean. Make the dream stop. Instead, I'd handed it the only thing I still knew how to give. My body.
But all I felt was exposed. The light hadn't saved me. It had shown me. Shown the hollowness. The cracks. The part of me that still believed pain was penance. I hadn't come for pleasure. I'd come for punishment. Luxor had given it, wrapped in gold, wrapped in kindness, wrapped in gods-damned gentleness that made me want to scream.
I hadn't gone to Luxor for pleasure. I'd gone because some part of me still believed pain could balance the scales. He had ruined even that by being gentle. I would return radiant. Even if I had to set myself on fire to glow. You wanted control, my mind whispered. So you gave yourself away. Just like always.
I had left Malvor because I loved him. Because I couldn't let him see this. Couldn't let him see me wanting punishment. Wanting pain. Wanting anything that made sense. I would return shining. Perfect. Controlled. Radiant.
Because that's who he loved, wasn't it? Annie. The girl who laughed. The girl who kept up. The girl who made chaos look easy. Not this.
I didn't say goodbye. Not to Luxor. Not to the realm. The golden halls parted for me without resistance. I stood at the edge of the realm. Luxor didn't call after me. Didn't try to stop me. That hurt more than it should have. Some stupid, starving part of me had wanted him to say stay. Not because I wanted him. Because I wanted someone to notice I was leaving. He didn't. Maybe that was what I deserved.
So I lifted my chin, straightened my spine, and walked through the light as if it couldn't touch me. The portal shimmered. I didn't flinch. I never do. Arbor welcomed me back in silence. The soft click of the front door behind me, and the scent of magic in the walls, warm, familiar. Malvor was still asleep.
I moved on instinct, past the hall, up the stairs, into the bathroom. I peeled my clothes off slowly. Carefully. My hands shook. My reflection watched me with dead eyes. The golden rune blazed across my skin. Shoulder to wrist. I stared at it like it belonged to someone else.
The bath filled itself before I even asked. I sank beneath it. Eyes open. Lungs full of silence. Exhaled underwater. Watched the bubbles rise like words I never said. I stayed under until my chest began to ache. Then surfaced. Breathed. Went under again.
The rune stayed bright beneath the water. I rubbed at it once. Nothing. I rubbed harder. Still gold. Still beautiful. Still there. I curled my knees to my chest beneath the surface. Arms tight. Holding myself together. I didn't cry. I was too over everything.
Later, I sat by the fire, wrapped in one of Malvor's robes, too big, too soft, smelling like mocha and him. I traced the embroidery on the sleeve, the little stitched chaos symbol he'd added just for me. He thought it was funny. I thought it was sweet. Now? I didn't know what I thought. I traced it again. Arbor dimmed the lights, sensing me. The fire crackled low, shadows dancing without joy. Rain tapped the windows, soft, steady. I stared into the flames. Nothing happened. That was fine. I didn't need anything to happen. I don't know how long I sat like that.
Long enough for the bond to stir. A faint tug at the back of my mind. Malvor. He knew.
I felt the exact moment he realized I was home. Then the moment he realized I'd been gone. I waited. No burst of panic through the bond. No footsteps. No Malvor appearing in front of me demanding to know what happened. Nothing.
I pulled the robe tighter around myself. A sound broke the quiet. Barely more than a creak. I turned. Malvor.
He stood in the hallway, barefoot, shirtless. His eyes landed on me. Then on the rune, back to my face. He opened his mouth. Closed it.
My fingers stopped on the embroidered sleeve. He didn't ask. Didn't demand an explanation. He just looked at me.
He crossed the room, lowered himself to his knees in front of me, and pressed his forehead to my knee. I stopped breathing.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice so small. His fingers curled against his thighs. "I should have seen you."
My throat tightened. Of all the things I had prepared for, an apology wasn't one of them. I stared down at him. Malvor. Barefoot. Hair still mussed from sleep. On his knees. For me.
My hand moved, before I decided to move it, resting lightly in his hair. He closed his eyes. Let out a slow breath against my knee. I didn't take my hand back.
When he looked up, his eyes stayed on mine. "I thought you were getting better."
My fingers went still in his hair. "I know."
His face twisted. "I wanted you to be."
There it was. Not cruelty. Something worse. The truth.
"I made it easy for you to believe me."
He shook his head. "I should've looked anyway."
I looked at the gold burning up my arm. He didn't. He kept looking at me. My hand shook in his hair. I left it there.
Annie was easy. She laughed. Rolled her eyes at his antics. Handed him coffee. Kept pace with chaos like nothing had ever hurt her. I liked her. That was the worst part. She wasn't fake. The laughter was mine. The coffee was mine. I loved him. That was mine too.
But Annie knew how to make pain pretty. She knew how to hurt quietly. How to wake from nightmares and make coffee. How to shake and call it cold. How to let Malvor make me laugh until both of us could pretend laughter meant healed. He loved Annie. So did I.
Maybe that was why I had kept her alive so long. But I couldn't be only her anymore. I didn't want a name that knew how to make this beautiful.
"I'm not… Annie," I whispered. Malvor didn't move. "Not anymore."
The next words hurt. I said them anyway. "My name is Asha."
He didn't argue. But his face fell. I sat beside him. Not touching. Not retreating.
"I never got to mourn," I said.
His face changed. He'd been so relieved I came back that neither of us had stopped to ask what came back with me. "You thought I was okay. Because I was strong. Because I made jokes. Because I drank your coffee and wore your robe and didn't scream every time someone said my name."
"I gave you what you needed. Someone steady. Someone funny. Someone who could survive anything." My fingers curled into my palm, nails biting into my skin. "They kidnapped me, Malvor."
His eyes closed.
"They took my body. My mind. My choice. Bresoria smiled while she left me there. With them. I wasn't even supposed to survive. They had a note ready for you."
His head dropped. His fists twisted in his pants. "I know," he said hoarsely. "I read it."
You always liked broken things. So I broke your favorite toy.-Domerik
I stared into the fire. "It wasn't the pain."
He looked at me.
"It wasn't the humiliation, or the way they laughed while they hurt me." My nails dug deeper into my palm. "It was coming back… and pretending I was fine."
I turned to him. "Because you needed me to be."
He flinched. Good.
"You brought me home. You gave me peace. I loved you for that. But you also gave me silence. I filled it. I didn't know how to break it."
"I didn't know," he said, quiet.
"No."
He went still.
"You didn't want to know."
"Asha—"
"You said it yourself. You wanted me to be better."
His mouth closed.
"So I got better."
The words came out ugly. "I laughed. I fucked you. I made coffee. I slept beside you. I made it so fucking easy to believe."
His grip tightened around his own hands.
"And you believed me. I was your dream girl. Broken in all the right places. Strong where it looked impressive. Quiet where it kept things easy."
That one hurt him. I wanted it to. He reached for my hand. I looked at it. I opened my fist. I let him take it. "But I'm not a dream anymore. I'm Asha. And I'm angry. And I hurt. And I will never be what I was again."
Silence. Rain tapped harder on the windows. Then Malvor said, "I know that now."
I looked at him.
"I want to be the strong one this time," his voice caught. "If you'll let me."
He didn't reach for me again. He waited. I nodded once. I moved closer until my shoulder touched his. Neither of us spoke.
"I didn't want Luxor."
Malvor tensed.
"Not really." The words stuck. I forced them out anyway. "I wanted him to punish me."
His fingers twitched against his knee.
"I wanted to feel something that wasn't rot. I wanted the light to hurt me the way the dark did, because at least then it would make sense." I stared at the rune burning down my arm. "I declared my divine favor."
Malvor closed his eyes.
"He was kind." My voice cracked. "He was so gentle." There it was again. That word. Ugly in my mouth. "I hated him for it."
Malvor opened his eyes.
"Because I faked it so well." My breath hitched. "I made it beautiful, Malvor.'
His face crumpled.
"Just like I always do." I looked down at our hands. "I'm so tired of making it beautiful even subconsciously."
Malvor reached for my hand slowly. I gave it to him. His thumb brushed my left wrist, where Luxor's rune burned gold into my skin. He stopped there. Waited. I turned my hand over. His thumb followed the lines once. He lifted my hand and kissed the center of my palm. I closed my eyes.
He kissed my wrist next. Waited. I let him continue. The crook of my elbow. The gold blazing across my shoulder.
When his hand moved toward Yara's mark winding up my thigh, he stopped again. His eyes lifted to mine. I nodded. Only then did he touch me. His mouth followed the rune slowly. There was no hunger in it. No performance. Neither of us was trying to turn pain into something beautiful.
When he finished, he pressed his forehead to my knee again. "I can be strong now," he whispered. "You don't have to be."
"I don't know who I am without the strength," I admitted.
He was quiet for a moment. "Then don't know yet." I looked down at him. He shrugged, barely. "We have time."
A laugh escaped me. It surprised us both. "God of Mischief giving pep talks now?"
One corner of his mouth lifted. "Don't get used to it."
I leaned forward and pressed my forehead to his. "I won't."
Neither of us moved. For once, nothing needed to become anything else.