CHAPTER 6 — Withdrawal Symptoms
The path didn't glow.
That was the first problem.
After gold valleys and crystal cities, this road looked… unfinished. Dirt underfoot. Crooked stones. A sky that couldn't decide what color it wanted to be.
Reality here wasn't curated.
It was tolerated.
I stumbled.
Valerius caught me immediately, one arm wrapping around my waist with practiced precision. Not gentle—efficient. Like she'd done this before.
"Easy," she said. "You're fading."
"I'm not fading," I muttered. "I'm… buffering."
Puck glanced back at us, tail low. "You absorbed Betrayal, Artie. That's not a clean concept. It lingers."
The word echoed unpleasantly.
Lingers.
Every step felt heavier than the last, like gravity had developed opinions about me. My thoughts snagged on memories that didn't belong here—promises that hadn't been broken yet, smiles I suddenly didn't trust.
I shook my head hard.
"No," I whispered. "Get out."
The world didn't listen.
We reached a clearing—a rough camp formed from scavenged stone and half-real trees. Someone had been here before. Long before. You could tell by the way the fire pit looked resigned.
Valerius eased me down onto a flat rock.
"You're burning up," she said, pressing the back of her fingers to my temple.
I flinched.
Not from her touch—from the thought behind it.
A sharp, unwanted whisper slid through my mind.
She'll leave.
They always do.
My breath hitched.
"That's not mine," I said quickly. "That thought—that wasn't me."
"I know," she replied without hesitation.
That helped more than she realized.
Puck hopped down, unusually quiet. He circled me once, eyes narrowed.
"You're leaking," he said. "Conceptual seepage. Betrayal doesn't stay contained unless you give it structure."
"Structure," I rasped. "Great. I'll just… organize my trauma alphabetically."
Valerius knelt in front of me, wings folding in to give us privacy without really hiding us.
"You don't have to do this alone," she said.
The words hit harder than any attack.
Betrayal flared inside me like a wounded animal.
Don't believe her.
Belief is how it gets you.
I clenched my fists, nails biting into my palms.
"Stop," I hissed—to myself, to the Shard, to whatever part of me was learning the wrong lessons too quickly. "You don't get to rewrite that."
Valerius stiffened slightly.
"What did you hear?" she asked carefully.
I swallowed.
"That everyone leaves," I admitted. "That trust is just… delayed disappointment."
Her jaw tightened.
"Arthur," she said quietly, "look at me."
I didn't want to.
I did anyway.
Her eyes weren't glowing. No rank. No divine authority.
Just a woman who had chosen, repeatedly, to stand where things were most likely to break.
"I stayed," she said. "At the Spires. At the Maw. I'm here now."
The concept screamed.
Betrayal hated evidence.
Pain lanced behind my eyes, sharp and white. I gasped, doubling forward as the Shard flared violently, golden lines spiderwebbing across my vision.
Valerius caught me, pulling me against her shoulder.
"It hurts," I choked. "It hurts to not believe it."
"I know," she murmured, steady hand between my shoulders. "That's how you know it's trying to protect you."
Puck sighed softly. "Congratulations, Artie. You've discovered the worst feature of your power."
"What's that?" I whispered.
"It learns from fear faster than from courage."
The clearing went quiet.
Not peaceful—watchful.
I felt eyes on us.
Not hostile.
Evaluative.
Somewhere beyond drafts and realms, something was taking notes.
The Curator wasn't attacking.
He was studying recovery patterns.
Valerius helped me lie back, resting my head against her thigh. Her wings curved instinctively, shielding me from the open sky.
"Sleep," she said. "Just for a moment."
"What if I dream?" I asked.
"Then I'll wake you."
The certainty in her voice cut through the static.
My eyes fluttered closed despite myself.
The world blurred—
—and for one terrifying second, I felt it again.
That pull.
Not gold this time.
Ink.
A whisper at the edge of thought:
Define yourself. It will hurt less.
I snarled weakly.
"No," I breathed. "I don't want to be easy to summarize."
Something… receded.
When I woke, the fire was lit.
Puck sat opposite Valerius, chewing thoughtfully on something that might once have been a rulebook.
"You didn't dissolve," he told me. "That's progress."
"I feel like I was emotionally mugged," I said hoarsely.
Valerius allowed herself a small, tired smile.
"Also progress."
I pushed myself up slowly, head clearer—but not clean.
Betrayal hadn't left.
It had… nested.
Quiet. Watchful.
Useful.
Dangerous.
Far above us, the sky shifted.
Not tearing.
Bookmarking.
I felt it in my bones.
This wasn't over.
This was the part where the story started testing who I trusted.
And whether I would flinch.