Bound by Shadows

Aspin

I sit slumped against the cold stone wall, my arms wrapped tightly around my knees. The weight of the past few days presses down on me, suffocating and relentless. I've run out of plans, out of strength, and almost out of hope.

My tears have slowed, but the ache in my chest feels bottomless, like it'll never go away. The cell is silent now, save for the occasional drip of water from somewhere in the distance. My breathing is uneven, ragged, and my throat burns from holding in the sobs. I've never cried like this in front of anyone—not my family, not even myself, really.

A faint noise cuts through the stillness, so soft I think I might have imagined it. But then it comes again—a rustling sound, barely audible, but enough to make my head snap up. My heart skips a beat as I scramble closer to the bars, the faint flicker of hope igniting against my better judgment.

"Torin?" I whisper, my voice hoarse and fragile, trembling with pain and longing.

For a moment, there's silence. My chest tightens. I almost convince myself I've lost my mind. But then, I see him.

"Torin," I gasp, louder this time, my voice breaking on the word.

He's there. Right there on the other side of the bars, his eyes wide and searching until they lock onto mine. Relief floods his face, and in two steps, he's kneeling in front of me, gripping the iron bars like he could rip them apart if it meant getting to me.

I scramble forward, my hands shaking as I clutch the cold metal between us. His eyes—those familiar, steady, comforting eyes—roam over me, taking in my tear-streaked face, the bruises on my wrists, the hollow look I know must be in my eyes.

He reaches through the bars, cupping my face with both hands. His palms are warm, steady, grounding. His thumbs brush softly over my cheeks, and the gentleness of it makes something inside me shatter.

"You're here," I whisper, my voice cracking. My bottom lip trembles, and I bite down hard, trying to stop it.

"I'm here," he says softly, his voice low and sure. "I'm so sorry, Aspin."

His thumb brushes away a tear, and I can't help the way I lean into his touch. The way his hands cradle my face feels like the first good thing I've felt in days.

Kaia's voice, distant but present, mutters something about working on the lock, but I barely register it. My world has narrowed to the feel of his hands, the sound of his voice, and the way his presence seems to push back the cold that's seeped into my bones.

"I thought—" I start, but my voice falters, choking on the weight of everything I've been holding in.

"Shh," he says, his tone soft but firm. "I know. I know, Aspin. But I'm here now. I'm not going anywhere."

His words seep into me, soothing the jagged edges of my fear and guilt. I press my hands against his, clutching them like a lifeline. I've always thought of myself as strong, independent, but right now, all I want is to stay in this moment, where he's holding me together with nothing but his presence.

The lock clicks behind him, and he pulls back just enough to glance at Kaia, who's standing triumphantly with the open cell door. Without a second thought, he rises to his feet and steps inside.

I barely have time to register the movement before he's pulling me up from the floor, his hands steadying me when my legs threaten to give out.

"T-Torin, I—" I start, but the words dissolve into a fresh wave of tears.

He shakes his head, silencing me with a quiet, "Don't."

And then his arms are around me, pulling me against his chest in a way that feels both protective and unyielding. One hand rests firmly against my lower back, while the other tangles gently in my hair, holding me like I'm something precious, something breakable.

I melt into him without thinking, my forehead resting against his collarbone as his scent—something clean and familiar—grounds me. For the first time in days, I feel like I can breathe.

"I've got you," he murmurs, his voice low and steady, the vibration of it rumbling against my cheek. "You're safe now. I swear, you're safe."

I cling to him, my fingers fisting the fabric of his shirt as more tears spill over. I've never let myself fall apart like this, never let myself be vulnerable in front of anyone. But here, in his arms, it feels like the only thing I can do.

"I'm sorry," I manage to choke out, the words muffled against his chest.

His arms tighten around me, and his voice hardens with quiet intensity. "Don't apologize. This isn't your fault. None of it."

I nod against him, even though I don't believe him. Not really. But his words, his touch, the way he holds me—it all feels like a balm on wounds I didn't realize were so deep.

"Sorry to interrupt," Kaia's voice breaks through the moment, her tone uncharacteristically serious. "But guard rotation happens in less than two minutes and usually that means someone stops by down here to make sure she hasn't you know, died yet. So we need to leave. Now."

Torin pulls back just enough to meet my gaze, his eyes filled with something I can't quite name but feel down to my core. "I'm getting you out of here," he promises, his voice steady and sure.

I nod, my tears finally slowing as I draw strength from his certainty.

And then, with his arm still wrapped protectively around me, we move.