Elena lay on her back, eyes wide as they drank in the endless sky above. It wasn’t the sky she remembered — no dull stretch of black, no cold distant stars. It was alive.

  Soft, glowing things floated lazily through the air, like they belonged to a sea that wasn’t there. Jellyfish shimmered, their translucent bodies pulsing with golden light. Fish-like shapes, glowing faint blue and purple, darted and danced around them. Higher up, something massive drifted through the sky — a whale, its enormous form casting a slow-moving shadow. Its skin was dark, speckled with glowing spots, like someone had scooped pieces of the night and stitched them into its back.

  It let out a low, echoing call that vibrated in Elena's chest, deep and ancient, like the sky itself was humming.

  Her head felt light, her body warm and heavy in the grass. Her thoughts floated with the creatures, untethered and weightless.

  “Do you think…" she began, voice distant, dreamy, "…they know they’re beautiful? Like... maybe they swim up there so we’ll look at them and wonder. Maybe they’re singing to each other — telling stories or... or secrets.”

  The whale called again, its voice reverberating through her bones.

  “Maybe that one’s a guardian,” Elena murmured, her voice soft and full of awe. "A protector, watching over the smaller ones. Or maybe it's lonely, calling out for someone else like it.”

  She smiled faintly, the edges of her lips barely moving. “What if the sky is an ocean, and we just never knew? What if it goes on forever and there are whole worlds floating up there, ones we can’t see?”

  Her voice dropped to a whisper.

  “What if we're the ones who belong up there, and we just forgot?”

  She didn’t realize she was crying until a warm breeze brushed her cheek, cool against the faint streak of a tear.

  “…I wonder how they taste.”

  Elena blinked, the sky crashing back to reality all at once. Her head snapped to the side.

  “What?!”

  Ember stared up at the glowing sea-creatures like it was the most normal thing in the world. She stretched her arms behind her head, her voice lazy and half a yawn.

  “They’re floating. And glowing. Must mean they’re special. Special stuff usually tastes good.”

  Elena stared, scandalized. “You can’t eat them!”

  Ember turned her head just enough to smirk. “Why not? Big one’s probably got enough meat to last us a month.”

  “Because they’re — they’re beautiful!” Elena spluttered, sitting up in a rush. "You don’t eat something just because it’s floating around and looks tasty!"

  Ember gave an exaggerated sigh. “So what, we just starve and admire the view? Great plan, Lena.”

  Elena huffed, cheeks puffing out. “There’s gotta be food somewhere that isn’t — isn't alive and pretty and singing!”

  She glanced around desperately, searching the shadows for any sign of fruit or roots or something to prove her point. But the world was too dark, the grass and dirt too familiar, too much like home. It didn’t feel like they had climbed anywhere new at all.

  Her voice faltered. "...Maybe there’s berries somewhere."

  Ember watched her quietly for a second longer. Then she sat up, leaning over and poking Elena’s cheek with her finger.

  “Relax. I wouldn’t really eat the sky fish. Probably tastes gross anyway.”

  Elena swatted her hand away, pouting. “You’re awful.”

  Ember grinned, lying back down. “Yeah. But you’re not sad anymore.”

  Elena blinked, the fight in her chest flickering out all at once. She looked at Ember, who was watching the sky again, her expression soft and unreadable.

  The whale’s call rang out one more time — low and deep and endless.

  “…Still too pretty to eat,” Elena mumbled, flopping back into the grass.

  Ember snorted, but she didn’t argue.

  Ember let out a long sigh, still watching the glowing sea creatures float above them.

  “…Didn’t think it was even possible to climb this high,” she murmured. Her voice was quieter than usual, like the sky had made her smaller somehow. "Feels like we should’ve fallen back down a long time ago. But we didn’t. We’re really here."

  She shifted, her hand brushing against Elena’s.

  “How’d we even do this, huh?” Ember’s voice wavered, just a little. Her throat felt tight, words getting stuck somewhere behind her teeth. Her heart thudded, harder than she wanted it to.

  “…Maybe—” she hesitated, the words nearly too soft to hear. “Maybe it’s ‘cause I was with you. Maybe I—”

  A sudden thunk broke the quiet, a sharp sound that buried itself into the dirt near Elena’s head. Both girls bolted upright.

  An arrow.

  It stuck out from the ground, the shaft slick and glistening unnaturally in the moonlight. Elena stared at it, her breath catching in her throat. Slowly, she reached out to touch it, her fingertips brushing the slime. It was cold and sticky.

  Her eyes widened.

  “Toads!” she blurted, her voice high and panicked.

  Ember blinked, thrown off. “What— what do you mean toads? There’s no such thing as—”

  Another arrow shot past her cheek, close enough to slice a strand of hair. More followed, hissing through the air from the shadows.

  Ember barely had time to register what was happening before her body moved on instinct. She grabbed Elena, throwing her to the side. Her hand lit up with the faint silver glow of her Orion gifts — the light spilling from her palm like liquid metal.

  A shimmering barrier bloomed between them and the incoming arrows, flickering with every hit. The arrows thudded against it one by one, each impact sending sharp vibrations through Ember’s arm.

  “Lena!” Ember grunted, her voice strained. "What do we do?!"

  Elena didn’t answer. She was still sitting on the ground, her eyes wide, unfocused. Her lips moved, but the words weren’t for Ember anymore.

  “I believed… I believed there’d be a city,” she whispered, voice trembling. “I thought they’d be waiting for us. I thought we’d find something better. Not this. Not—”

  She swallowed hard, her voice hollow.

  “…What if we’re wrong? What if the Iorphs aren’t the ones searching for a better world? What if we’re the ones who ruined it? What if we’re the ones who taught the toads how to fight?”

  Ember stared at her, heart twisting painfully.

  "Lena…" she started — but then her barrier flickered, sparks of silver light crackling and fading.

  More arrows slammed into it. It wouldn’t hold much longer.

  Ember clenched her teeth.

  "Forget it," she muttered, voice low. "I’ll handle this."

  She pushed forward, breaking through the failing barrier. Arrows flew past her, but she dodged them — fast, wild, her body moving on instinct. One sliced her arm, but she didn’t stop. She snapped another arrow mid-flight with her bare hand, the wood splintering between her fingers.

  For a moment, it felt like she could win.

  Then she saw the strange arrow.

  It wasn’t like the others — its shaft was twisted, made from some dark, knotted wood. The tip pulsed faintly, a sickly green glow radiating from it.

  Ember froze, her eyes narrowing.

  “…The hell is this?”

  It hit the ground near her feet, hissing as it landed. A thick, acrid gas exploded outward. Ember coughed, staggering back, eyes burning.

  Her limbs felt slow. Heavy. Her legs wobbled beneath her.

  “Lena—” she choked, voice barely a whisper.

  The world tilted. Her knees buckled.

  The last thing she saw was Elena, still frozen, still rambling to herself — her face pale with fear.

  Ember’s head hit the ground, her vision tunneling into blackness.

  “...Stupid toads,” she mumbled before the darkness swallowed her whole.

  Ember’s head throbbed, a slow, pulsing ache that felt like it was trying to drag her back into unconsciousness. Her body felt heavy, like she was buried under wet sand. The air smelled damp and sour, stinging her nose.

  Her eyelids fluttered open, and for a moment, all she saw was dark.

  No — not dark. There was a faint, sickly green light coming from somewhere above. Her vision swam as she tried to focus. The light flickered, casting strange shadows on rough stone walls. Everything felt wrong. Too quiet. Too cold.

  Elena.

  The name slammed into her chest harder than the arrows did.

  She jerked upright — too fast. Pain shot through her skull like lightning, and she groaned, clutching her head. Her muscles screamed in protest, sluggish and weak.

  “Elena?” Her voice came out hoarse, barely more than a whisper.

  Nothing.

  Her heart kicked harder. She blinked rapidly, forcing her eyes to adjust. The room wasn’t big. A cell — stone walls, rusted metal bars. The floor was dirt, cold and damp beneath her legs. Her hands were free, but her legs felt numb.

  Then she saw her.

  Elena lay a few feet away, crumpled awkwardly on the ground. Her hair was half covering her face, her chest barely rising and falling.

  “Elena!” Ember’s voice cracked as she crawled over, her body protesting with every movement.

  She grabbed Elena’s shoulder, shaking her lightly. Her skin was cold, but not deathly cold. Ember pressed a trembling hand to her cheek. Still warm. Still breathing.

  Relief hit her so hard she almost collapsed again.

  “Wake up, Lena,” Ember murmured, her voice quieter now. “Come on. You’re not allowed to sleep yet.”

  She watched Elena’s face anxiously, waiting for the smallest flicker of movement.

  “Don’t make me start yelling at you,” Ember added weakly. “Because I will. And it’ll be really annoying.”

  Still nothing.

  Ember sat back, leaning against the wall, trying to catch her breath. Her heart wouldn’t slow down. Her mind wouldn’t stop spinning.

  Where are we?

  Who took us?

  How did they even catch us?

  Her thoughts were messy, tangled. Her last clear memory was the arrows. The gas. The stupid toads — and then everything went black.

  She glanced down at her wrist, where the Orion gift usually flickered with a faint glow. It was dim now. Weak. They must have drained it somehow.

  Her head tipped back against the stone wall with a dull thunk.

  “Great,” she muttered to herself. “This is going well.”

  A soft groan broke through the quiet.

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  Ember’s head snapped back down.

  “Elena?”

  Elena stirred, her head rolling to the side. Her eyes squinted open slowly, unfocused.

  “...Ember?” she rasped, voice barely above a whisper.

  Ember let out a shaky breath, a grin tugging at her lips despite everything.

  “Hey,” she said, trying to sound light. “Took you long enough.”

  Elena blinked sluggishly, her brow furrowing as she took in their surroundings.

  “…Where are we?” Her voice was thick and slurred.

  “No clue,” Ember admitted. “Some kind of prison, I think. Dungeon? Lair? Honestly, I was hoping for a nice cottage.”

  Elena stared at her, bleary and confused.

  “...Why are you joking?”

  Ember’s smile faltered. She glanced away.

  “Because if I stop, I think I’ll start screaming,” she muttered under her breath.

  Elena didn’t answer right away. When she did, her voice was quieter.

  “...Me too.”

  They sat there for a moment, neither speaking. The faint, eerie green light flickered again, buzzing softly.

  Elena shifted, wincing. “The arrows… they were slimy.”

  “Yeah,” Ember said, voice tight. “You were right. Toads.”

  Elena blinked at her. “…You’re admitting I was right?”

  Ember huffed a weak laugh. “Don’t get used to it.”

  Another silence. This one felt heavier.

  “What do you think they want with us?” Elena asked finally, her voice small.

  Ember didn’t answer right away. Her throat felt tight again. She hated that Elena sounded scared. Elena wasn’t supposed to sound scared.

  “I don’t know,” she admitted quietly. “…But they didn’t kill us. That’s something, right?”

  Elena didn’t look reassured.

  Ember swallowed hard, forcing a grin back onto her face.

  “Hey, maybe they’re friendly toads. Maybe they’ll invite us to dinner. Maybe they’ll even apologize for the whole ‘poison arrow’ thing.”

  Elena stared at her for a moment — then snorted, half laugh, half cough.

  “You’re an idiot,” she murmured.

  “Yeah,” Ember said softly. “But I’m your idiot.”

  Elena didn’t argue. She just sighed and leaned her head against Ember’s shoulder, too tired to stay upright on her own.

  Ember blinked in surprise, then smiled.

  They stayed like that for a while, both too worn down to move.

  The green light flickered again. In the distance, somewhere beyond the cell, there was a sound — wet and slithering, like something crawling over stone.

  Ember’s smile faded.

  “…Lena?” she whispered.

  Elena’s head felt heavy, her body sinking deeper into the cold, unforgiving floor of the cell. The damp air clung to her skin, making her shiver despite the lingering warmth of Ember’s body beside her. She tried to stay awake, her eyelids fluttering weakly, but the pull of sleep was too strong. Her mind wandered, half-dreaming — visions of the sky filled with glowing sea creatures swirled behind her eyes, their gentle songs blending into the muffled hum of the unfamiliar place they were trapped in.

  Ember stirred beside her with a groan, her voice rough and low. "Elena... you awake?"

  Elena barely managed a sound, something between a hum and a sigh.

  Ember shifted, wincing. The faint glow from her stone flickered softly in the dimness, barely enough to cast shadows on the rough walls. The name of her tribe — Orion — carved into it felt warm against her palm. She squeezed it tightly, like it might somehow bring her strength.

  “They took everything," Ember muttered, her voice strained but steady. "Our bags, water... everything's gone."

  Elena tried to answer, but the exhaustion pulled her deeper. Her mind drifted again, the sound of Ember’s voice becoming distant, like hearing someone call from the bottom of a lake.

  She almost slipped under completely when she heard it — a noise. Soft, wet, and wrong.

  A shuffle. A squelch.

  It was close.

  Ember noticed it too. Her head snapped up, eyes narrowing as she stared through the narrow bars. Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Elena… wake up. Something’s coming.”

  Elena tried to force herself awake, but her body wouldn’t listen. Her vision blurred, sleep crawling up her spine like ivy.

  The sound came again — louder this time, closer. Something dragging across stone. The heavy, wet noise made Ember’s stomach twist.

  Then, a shadow moved at the edge of the corridor. Not footsteps. Something crawling.

  “Elena,” Ember said again, her voice lower, sharper. Fear tightened her throat. She couldn’t tell what was coming, but whatever it was… it wasn’t human.

  The figure emerged slowly, one step at a time, from the shadows beyond the cell bars. At first, Ember thought it might be human — the silhouette was right, standing on two legs, robed and hooded like a traveler. But as it stepped into the dim light, the illusion shattered.

  Its skin glistened, slick and wet, a sickly green that seemed to ripple when it moved. Its face was flat and broad, like a toad’s, with bulging eyes that blinked sideways, one after the other. The robe, though meant to look human, hung awkwardly over its hunched frame, damp edges clinging to its skin. It wasn’t hiding itself. It was imitating.

  Ember’s heart hammered in her chest. She didn’t dare wake Elena — not yet. She wasn’t sure what they were dealing with.

  The creature stepped closer, webbed feet slapping lightly against the stone floor. It tilted its head, the motion slow and deliberate, like it was studying her. The air smelled thick and stagnant now, like a swamp.

  It spoke.

  The voice wasn’t what Ember expected. It wasn’t a snarl or a croak. It was low, heavy, and wet, as though the words had to swim their way out.

  “Who… are you?”

  Ember swallowed hard. Her throat felt dry, and her voice came out hoarse. “We’re just travelers. From down below.”

  The creature stared. Its eyes didn’t blink this time — they just stared. The silence stretched too long, pressing on Ember’s chest like a weight.

  “Travelers,” it echoed slowly, voice dragging through the word like it didn’t quite believe it. “What… are you?”

  Ember tensed. Her mind raced. She could lie, but something told her that wouldn’t end well. She didn’t even know if this thing could smell lies.

  “I’m an Iorph,” she said carefully, voice steady. “And… human.”

  The toad-man leaned forward slightly, his bulbous eyes narrowing. Ember felt her muscles coil, ready to move if he lunged. But he didn’t. He stared, unblinking, like he was waiting for her to say something else.

  Then his head tilted the other way, slow and unnerving. He leaned in further, so close Ember could see the slick sheen of his skin and smell the damp earth and rot clinging to him.

  “Why… are you here?”

  Ember’s throat tightened. She could hear Elena’s slow breathing beside her, too quiet, too still. She wanted to look, to check on her, but she didn’t dare take her eyes off the creature.

  “We mean no harm,” Ember said, her voice firmer now. “We came to explore. That’s all.”

  The creature didn’t move. The tension stretched so tight it felt like the whole room might snap under it.

  Ember didn’t blink. She couldn’t. Her mind raced with half-formed plans — if he attacked, she’d have to shield Elena first. Maybe she could hold the barrier long enough to drag her out. Maybe.

  The toad-man didn’t attack. Instead, he leaned back, his eyes still locked on hers. The tension didn’t ease, but something shifted in his posture. He tilted his head again, slower this time.

  “You mean no harm,” he repeated quietly, almost thoughtful. His voice was softer now, less thick, though still unnatural.

  Ember stared at him, unsure what to say.

  Then he straightened to his full height — taller than she expected — and turned slightly, speaking to the shadows behind him. His voice was different now, lower and rougher.

  “Release them.”

  From the darkness, more figures stirred. Ember’s stomach clenched. She hadn’t even noticed them. They moved like shadows — smaller than the first one, quicker. Their feet made wet, slapping sounds as they approached the cell.

  One of them hesitated, lingering near the lock. The first creature turned its head, making a low, guttural noise that vibrated the air. The other figure flinched and obeyed. Keys jingled, and the cell door creaked open.

  Ember didn’t move. She wasn’t sure she trusted this yet. Her voice came out quieter than before.

  “…You trust me just like that?”

  The creature blinked sideways again, his voice low and steady.

  “You said you mean no harm. That’s enough.”

  Ember stared at him. Her mind screamed at her to be wary — to run, to fight — but something in his tone made her hesitate. She didn’t trust it, but… she believed it.

  She glanced down at Elena. Her friend stirred weakly, eyelids fluttering.

  The creature gestured toward the open door. “Come.”

  Ember didn’t move. Her heart thudded against her ribs.

  “Where are you taking us?” she asked, her voice sharper now.

  The toad-man didn’t blink this time.

  “The Elder will want to see you.”

  The words sent a cold twist through Ember’s chest. The Elder. She wasn’t sure if that was better or worse than staying in this cell.

  She reached down, touching Elena’s shoulder gently. “Lena,” she whispered. “Wake up.”

  Elena stirred again, her voice faint. “Mmm… Ember…?”

  Ember swallowed down the lump in her throat and squeezed her hand.

  “It’s okay. We’re getting out of here.”

  But somehow, the words felt hollow.

  The hallway beyond the cell stretched longer than Ember expected. It wasn’t dark or damp — not like a dungeon should be. The walls looked carved from smooth stone, almost like the tunnels back home, but lighter in color. A faint glow pulsed from mossy patches clinging to the ceiling, casting soft green light over everything.

  When they stepped outside, Ember blinked hard, her breath catching in her throat.

  It wasn’t what she expected.

  The ground beneath her feet felt familiar — soft, earthy soil, the same as back home. The grass swayed gently in an unseen breeze, the blades cool against her ankles. The air smelled fresh, tinged with a faint sweetness, like spring after rain. If she closed her eyes, she could almost imagine they hadn’t left the tunnels at all.

  Almost.

  The toads outside weren’t like the ones who captured them. They weren’t slimy or hunched or wrapped in ragged robes. Their skin looked smoother, less wet, with duller shades of green and brown. Some walked on two legs, others crouched low like animals. A group of smaller ones — children, Ember realized — played near a shallow stream that cut through the grass.

  One of them noticed her. Its big, round eyes blinked in surprise, then it raised a webbed hand and waved.

  Ember stared. Another toad saw the first one, then waved too. One by one, they turned to look at her and Elena, smiling (could toads smile?) and waving like they were old friends.

  Elena’s soft gasp drew Ember’s attention. She turned to check on her, half-expecting fear or confusion. But Elena wasn’t scared.

  Her eyes were wide with wonder, a slow smile spreading across her face as she took everything in. She looked at the waving toads, blinked once, then waved back, giggling.

  Ember stared at her. For a second, she couldn’t decide whether to be worried or relieved.

  Elena didn’t look afraid. She looked… happy. Like she belonged here.

  The uneasy twist in Ember’s stomach tightened, but she pushed it down. Not now.

  She turned her attention back to their escorts. The toads leading them still looked different — darker, slicker, more guarded. They didn’t wave back. They didn’t even look at the others. Their focus stayed ahead, and they walked without a word.

  They weren’t cuffed or restrained. No one held a weapon to their backs. Ember still didn’t trust it.

  She walked close to Elena, scanning everything they passed. If this was a trick, she’d see it coming.

  They crossed a narrow wooden bridge over a pond — large and still, its surface smooth and glass-like. It was so clear that Ember could see her reflection, faint and distorted. For a second, she thought she saw something move beneath the water, but it was gone before she could be sure.

  At the end of the bridge stood a small structure, more like a hut than a room. It looked woven together from thick roots and branches, with patches of the same glowing moss hanging from the roof. It wasn’t much — but the air felt heavier here, like the space carried weight.

  Inside, an old toad sat on a raised platform made of smoothed stone. He was larger than the others, his skin a paler green, almost grayish. A long, wispy white beard hung from his chin, thin enough to sway with the faintest breath. His eyes were clouded, but Ember felt them settle on her like he could still see everything.

  The guards didn’t speak. They bowed slightly and stepped back, leaving Elena and Ember standing alone. The old toad studied them for a long, uncomfortable moment. Then he lifted one webbed hand and waved the guards away. They left without hesitation.

  The room fell into silence, broken only by the faint trickle of water from somewhere unseen.

  The toad elder leaned forward slowly, his voice dry and raspy but clear.

  “…What are you?”

  The same question. Again.

  Ember swallowed hard. She glanced at Elena, who looked back with wide eyes, but still… not afraid. Just curious.

  Ember took a breath. “We’re travelers. From below. I’m an Iorph. She’s human.”

  The elder didn’t blink. He tilted his head, beard swaying. His next words came slower, almost deliberate.

  “No. That is what you are. I asked… what you are.”

  Ember felt her stomach twist again, tighter this time. She didn’t know how to answer.

  Elena stepped forward, her voice steadier than her trembling hands. Her wide eyes flicked to Ember, then back to the old toad. “We’re Iorphians,” she began softly, but the weight behind her voice grew with each word. “We come from Iorph — our home beneath the surface.”

  Her throat tightened, but she pushed through it. “The monster Thalavas destroyed it. Over and over. We rebuilt it each time, but he always came back. We couldn’t keep living like that... waiting for him to come again.”

  Her voice faltered for half a breath, but she reached out, taking Ember’s hand and gripping it tightly. Ember blinked, startled, but didn’t pull away.

  “We climbed to the surface— to find a safe place for our people. A home where Thalavas can’t follow us.” Her voice was quiet now, but it didn’t waver. “A place where we can finally stop running.”

  For a long moment, the elder said nothing. His pale, cloudy eyes seemed to study them both, unblinking. The only sound was the soft ripple of water from the pond behind him.

  Then, without a word, he turned away. The room was filled with the low, grating sound of stone grinding against stone as a hidden section of the wall slid aside, revealing an ancient mural beneath.

  It was cracked and faded, but the figures were unmistakable — an army of toads bowing before tall, glowing beings, their arms raised as if commanding the elements themselves. Water, flame, wind, and earth swirled in their hands.

  Elena’s breath caught.

  “They’re Iorphians,” she whispered, voice barely audible.

  The elder spoke at last, his voice like distant thunder rolling through a swamp. “There is an old legend among our kind. It speaks of beings from beneath — Iorphians — who could command the world itself. The sky, the seas, the beasts. We call this land Golust… but you are not the first to seek it.”

  His throat puffed slightly with each slow breath. “This city, Redogs, is one of Golust’s hidden places. And the legend says… when the Iorphians return to Golust, they will change it.”

  His gaze fell on Ember now, lingering on the faint glow of her stone. It pulsed softly, like a heartbeat. Ember tensed.

  The elder turned to the guards. “Take them to rest. Give them a place that is clean and safe.”

  As the guards moved, the elder’s voice lowered, just enough for them to hear as they were led away.

  “Good luck.”

  The words clung to Ember’s skin like the damp air. Not comforting. Not kind. It sounded like a warning.

  She didn’t say anything, but the knot in her chest tightened.

  She glanced at Elena, who was practically glowing with wonder as they passed through the toad city. Ember wasn’t sure what worried her more — the toads' strange kindness or how quickly Elena seemed to trust it.

  The room they were given was surprisingly comfortable — too comfortable. The walls were made of smooth, pale stone, faintly damp but clean. A small, round window near the ceiling let in a sliver of soft blue light, casting the room in an almost peaceful glow.

  Elena wandered around, running her fingers over the carved edges of the furniture. The room felt eerily familiar. The way the shelves were cut into the stone, the small table and stools in the corner, even the woven rug on the floor — it reminded her of home. Of Iorph.

  “They… live like us,” she murmured, more to herself than to Ember. Her voice had a strange, wistful note to it.

  Ember didn’t answer. She was busy checking everything. A narrow doorway led to a washroom — small, but with a basin of clear water and even cloths folded neatly to the side. There was a cupboard stocked with dried fruit and bread, a jug of something that smelled sweet, and a small lantern on the wall that burned without smoke.

  It was… too perfect. Too human. Too Iorphian.

  Ember’s brows knit together. “They knew we were coming,” she said, voice low and tight.

  Elena glanced at her, blinking. “What? No, they didn’t. They were surprised to see us.”

  “Then how do they have a room like this ready? A bathroom? Clean clothes? Food we can actually eat? They even have a towel.” Ember gestured around the room, her voice rising. “They’re toads, Elena. Slimy, robe-wearing, arrow-shooting toads. Since when do toads make guest rooms?”

  Elena didn’t answer, her gaze dropping to the floor. Ember sighed through her nose, running a hand through her hair. She hated this. She hated that it felt nice. That it felt safe. It wasn’t supposed to feel safe.

  “Hey,” Ember called, voice softer now. “We’ll figure it out. We’re not staying here forever, okay? Just… long enough to find somewhere better.”

  Elena nodded slowly, but she still looked uneasy. She opened her mouth to say something — and then stopped, eyes landing on the final piece of the room Ember hadn’t noticed yet.

  A single bed.

  It wasn’t even a big one. Just enough for one person, maybe two if they squished together. Thick, soft-looking blankets piled on top, almost inviting.

  They stared at it in silence for a moment.

  “...Well,” Ember muttered. “That’s awkward.”

  Elena tried — and failed — to smother a giggle. She covered her mouth, but her shoulders shook.

  Ember groaned. “Don’t laugh. This isn’t funny.”

  “It’s a little funny,” Elena said, her voice muffled behind her hands.

  Ember shook her head, though she couldn’t quite keep the grin off her face. “We’ll take turns,” she decided. “One of us sleeps on the bed, the other takes the rug. We switch tomorrow.”

  Elena tilted her head, still smiling. “You hate rugs.”

  “I hate toads more.”

  That earned a full laugh from Elena this time — light and warm and a little breathless. Ember couldn’t help it. She laughed too, even though her chest still felt tight with the lingering sense that something wasn’t right.

  For now, though, she let it go. They were safe. They were together. That was enough.

  At least for tonight.