Page 59 of Tears for a Broken Sky
The scent was stone and ash.
I let my shadows curl around me like a second skin, cloaking the space.
The quiet helped. So did the dark.
Then I heard footsteps—slow, deliberate.
Caelen ducked inside, his cloak pulled tight, the hood shadowing his face.
And for one awful second—I froze.
Something in the shape of him, the sharp silhouette, the way the light cut across the dark—
My stomach clenched, cold.Reflexive.
Vael.
The thought flared like pain—but then Caelen pulled the hood back, and it was gone.
Just Caelen. Just a boy in the ruins.
I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding.
“Did I startle you?” he asked, his voice low.
“No,” I said quickly. Too quickly. The word cut sharper than I meant it to.
He tilted his head slightly, studying me. “You sure?”
I looked away. “It’s fine.”
He didn’t press. Just stepped fully inside and let the door swing shut behind him.
The room plunged into stillness again.
“Gods,” he whispered, glancing around. “It’s worse than I remember.”
I let the shadows slip back into my skin, revealing more of the space.
Ash-streaked stone. Collapsed beams. A ruined fireplace in the far corner. And near the wall—char marks crawling up toward the ceiling, black like claw marks.
He pulled back the boards revealing the dark sitting room within.
Melted wallpaper hung in ribbons from the scorched stone. The wooden framework was collapsed in places, blackened and broken.
Caelen stepped in first, testing the floorboards with deliberate care. They creaked but held.
I followed on lighter feet, shadows still twitching just beneath my skin.
Then, absurdly, I snorted.
Caelen turned, startled. “What?”
I glanced around at the ruins, the soot-streaked walls, the half-collapsed ceiling.
“For a moment, this place reminded me of home,” I said dryly.
His brow furrowed. “You mean Varrowmere?”
