I stirred, my eyelids fluttering open as the warmth of the sun touched my face. The morning light streamed softly through the window, casting pale ribbons of sunlight across the room. For a moment, I simply lay there, my body heavy with the weight of exhaustion. The events of the night before seemed distant, like a dream I couldn''t fully grasp.


    I moved slightly, stretching my arms above my head, and winced at the tenderness of my neck and bruised hand. I''d almost forgotten the pain in the haze of sleep, but now it was impossible to ignore. The room around me was quiet, the only sound being the gentle hum of the morning breeze. It was peaceful.


    I turned my head, and my gaze landed on Jax. He was sitting in a chair near the window, looking out with a distant expression, his posture casual, though his eyes seemed lost in thought. I blinked, confused for a moment, then remembered where I was. Jax''s place…


    I was about to push myself up, but my body ached, and the comfort of the bed was too inviting. Instead, I let out a soft breath, settling back into the pillows with a reluctant sigh.


    He turned his head as he heard my movement, and his eyes softened when he saw me. He immediately stood and crossed the room toward me.


    "How are you feeling?" he asked, his voice still a little rough from the night, though it carried concern.


    I looked up at him, the memory of last night surfacing. My hand instinctively went to my neck, where the bruise still throbbed faintly, but I didn''t feel as vulnerable now. My body felt tired but safer than it had in days.


    "Better," I muttered, my voice still hoarse. "You didn''t have to do all this, you know."


    He raised an eyebrow, a slight smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "I didn''t have to? Well, I figured since you were too stubborn to rest on your own, someone had to force you to."


    I looked away, biting my lip. "I don''t need coddling," I replied with a hint of irritation, though it wasn''t directed at him. My stubbornness was starting to kick in again, but the warmth and kindness of his care held me in check.


    He didn''t respond immediately. Instead, he walked to the small table in the corner and poured a glass of water, then brought it over to me. He held it out, and without thinking, I took it, my fingers brushing his as I grasped the glass.


    I took a sip of the water, feeling the coolness soothe my dry throat. I didn''t know how to say it, but I owed him something, something more than just a quick thank you. He didn''t have to bring me here, didn''t have to treat me like I wasn''t just a burden. He could''ve let me deal with my own mess, like everyone else always did.


    "Thanks, Jax," I said quietly, my voice softer now. I hesitated for a moment before adding, "For everything."


    His expression softened, and his usual teasing demeanor seemed to melt away, replaced with something else—something sincere. He nodded, his voice low as he answered, "Don''t mention it."


    I looked at him, eyes lingering on his face for a long moment. Then, against my better judgment, I let a small smile slip onto my lips. "I suppose I''ll owe you one now. Just don''t make me steal a gem or something for it."


    Jax laughed softly, his eyes brightening for the first time since I''d woken up. "If you ever think I''d let you steal anything for me, you''re sorely mistaken, sweetheart."


    I felt a flutter of warmth in my chest. It was a simple exchange, but it made something inside me settle. And maybe, just maybe, I''d let myself rely on Jax for a little longer.


    "I''ll stay here for a bit; Esther is out anyway." I said, my stubbornness still lingering, though softened now. "But don''t expect me to be a model patient."


    Jax grinned, shaking his head. "You? Patient? I''d be more surprised if you didn''t start kicking things after ten minutes."


    I laughed quietly, a real laugh, the kind I hadn''t had in ages. It felt good, even if it was just for a moment.


    "Good to know you haven''t lost your sense of humor," I teased, though the softness in my voice betrayed the warmth I felt toward him.


    Jax leaned against the wall, crossing his arms and watching me with a mixture of amusement and something else I couldn''t quite place. "And you haven''t lost your stubbornness."


    I didn''t respond immediately, instead letting myself bask in the moment of calm before the storm. I still had a long way to go, but for now, I could rest. And that, for once, felt like enough.


    Jax watched me for a moment longer, then turned to leave the room. "I''ll grab some breakfast," he said over his shoulder, a playful tone creeping back into his voice. "Don''t go getting any ideas while I''m gone."


    I snorted, my eyes following him as he walked away. "Just make sure it''s something I can eat without being forced to run five miles."


    "Fair enough," he called back, his voice fading as he made his way down the stairs.


    I settled back into the bed, letting the quiet envelop me again, feeling the softness of the blankets against my skin as my mind drifted. The quiet of the room was soothing, but my body still ached, and something deeper gnawed at me. I couldn''t shake the thoughts that circled in my mind—the events of the night before kept replaying, and no matter how hard I tried to push them aside, they wouldn''t let me rest.


    That person. The Crown Prince. What was a royal like him doing in a place like that, in a rundown city like Araes? The question kept folding over itself, unanswered, twisting in my mind. It didn''t make sense. It couldn''t. Why had he come to a place like that, though? What had he been looking for?


    The unease lingered, settling heavily in my chest. I should''ve asked more questions, but part of me didn''t want to know the answers. It felt wrong, dangerous, even to think about it. And now I couldn''t get it out of my head.


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    Control it, I told myself firmly. Control it before it controls you.


    The curse. The powers that lingered just beneath my skin, always threatening to break free. Always pushing at the surface, waiting for a moment of weakness to seep out. Not after what happened last time. It was too risky.


    That''s why Esther had kept me hidden away for so long. She never let me meet anyone, never let me go anywhere. For my own safety, she always said. She didn''t trust anyone to know the truth, and neither did I.


    I exhaled slowly, trying to steady my breathing, but the thoughts wouldn''t stop. There was too much going on, too many loose threads I couldn''t pull together. I couldn''t afford to let them overwhelm me. Not yet.


    For now, I needed to stay calm, keep everything under control. The last thing I needed was for anyone to find out what I really was. I just hoped I could keep it hidden long enough to stay out of harm''s way.


    The door creaked open, pulling me from my thoughts. Jax reappeared, carrying a tray with a bowl of stew and a small loaf of bread. He set it down gently on the table beside me, then pulled out the chair across from the bed, sitting down with a slight sigh.


    "I didn''t know what you''d want, so I just grabbed something quick," Jax said, his tone lighter now. There was no teasing, but his usual easy-going attitude had returned.


    I sat up a little, reaching for the bread first. My stomach growled loudly—apparently, I hadn''t realized how hungry I was until now.


    "Thanks," I murmured, breaking off a piece and taking a bite. It wasn''t fancy, but it was filling, and it tasted like something I could stomach after everything that had happened. "I didn''t expect to be treated like royalty today."


    He chuckled, "I''m no chef, but you don''t have to go around on an empty stomach, especially not after the mess you got yourself into last night."


    I hesitated, my gaze shifting as I met his eyes. "I didn''t exactly expect to be in this mess," I said quietly, my fingers tightening around the edge of the bread. The words felt heavier now, hanging in the air between us. I couldn''t deny it. I''d gotten myself tangled up with people I never should''ve, and now… now, I wasn''t sure how to escape the fallout.


    His gaze softened, his expression unreadable for a moment. "You didn''t ask for any of this, Dawn," he said quietly, his voice uncharacteristically serious. "I… I''m sorry. I shouldn''t have said anything to Arty. I knew what kind of trouble it could cause."


    I blinked, taken aback by the admission. Jax, the ever-confident and sharp-minded man who always seemed to know exactly what he was doing was apologizing? It wasn''t like him to show that kind of vulnerability. I shook my head, my hand reaching for the stew, though I didn''t touch it immediately.


    "It''s not your fault," I said, though a trace of bitterness edged my words. "You couldn''t have known what would happen. None of us did."


    He didn''t respond right away. His lips pressed into a thin line, his gaze fixed somewhere past me. "Doesn''t matter," he said at last, voice quiet. "I still put you in danger. And I''ve already dragged you into more than I should''ve."


    I let out a slow breath, fingers absentmindedly tracing the rim of the bowl, the warmth of the stew seeping into my skin. "You can''t carry the weight of everything, Jax." I paused, glancing at him again. "Besides… I made the choice to help her. It was my own recklessness that got me caught. That''s on me."


    Jax''s eyes locked onto mine, and for a second, there was something raw there, something unspoken. He didn''t respond immediately, just gave a slight nod and looked away. It was clear there was more he wasn''t saying, but now wasn''t the time for him to explain himself.


    "Well," he said finally, his voice a little rougher again, "enough with the guilt-trip. Let''s just make sure you stay in one piece, alright?"


    I smiled softly at that, a real smile this time, though it didn''t quite reach my eyes. I didn''t argue, though. I was too tired for that. There was too much to worry about—the city was crumbling, the cult was out there, and I still hadn''t figured out exactly how to free myself from it all.


    Jax stood up slowly, stretching his arms above his head. "I''ll be downstairs if you need anything. Don''t go doing anything stupid, alright? I mean it."


    I gave him a look, my usual defiant spark returning despite the heaviness I felt. "I''m not stupid, you know."


    Jax grinned. "Yeah, sure. You''re a genius."


    I rolled my eyes, then finally took a spoonful of the stew, savoring the warmth and comfort of something simple. I sat quietly for a moment, finishing the last bite of my meal as the room settled into stillness.


    I glanced toward the window, where late morning light slipped through the curtains in thin streaks. The sky was still overcast, a dull gray that warned of rain later, but for now… everything felt still.


    Too still.


    I let my gaze drift around the room, but something about the silence tugged at the edge of my thoughts, needling a curiosity I couldn''t quite shake.


    With a quiet groan, I pushed myself up from the bed, my limbs protesting but slowly giving in. I wandered to the window, peering down at the narrow street below. It was empty, save for a stray cat darting across the cobblestones. I wasn''t the type to sit around doing nothing for long, but there was something about this place—Jax''s place—that kept my mind turning.


    How had he managed to hide this whole part of himself from me? We''d known each other for years, shared the same streets, the same jobs… and yet I''d never seen this side of his life. This quiet, domestic part. The idea of snooping made me grimace, but at the same time, how could I not be curious? He was always a little too open when it came to joking around, too easy with that grin of his.


    And I wasn''t exactly guiltless myself. I hadn''t told him everything either. So maybe a little look around wasn''t the worst thing.


    I glanced toward the closed door. Jax had gone downstairs a little while ago—probably off to deal with whatever mischief he had going on today. I could hear faint movement below: tools clinking, distant voices, the usual hum of activity. No sign of him coming back up anytime soon.


    Perfect.


    I moved before I could overthink it. My steps were soft, practiced—old habits. I cracked open the door and slipped into the hallway. The second floor was quieter, less lived-in than I expected. Just the loft, a few storage rooms maybe. Everything else belonged to the guild downstairs.


    I made my way down the hall, heading toward a door slightly ajar at the far end. Something about it called to me. I already knew it had to be his room—of course he''d keep it tucked away, like the rest of him.


    The moment I pushed it open, I was struck by how... normal it was.


    The bed was rumpled, dark covers half-thrown. Shelves lined one wall, filled with books and trinkets I wouldn''t have pegged Jax to care about. On a table near the window, weapons were arranged with practiced care—blades, tools, even a few gadgets I didn''t recognize. It was cluttered but intentional, lived-in but not messy.


    I stepped further inside, letting my eyes take in the details. A worn coat tossed over a chair. A bottle that smelled faintly of herbs. Letters, loose paper with odd scribbles. It didn''t feel like a thief''s den—it felt like a person''s room. A real one.


    And that''s what made me pause.


    Because the Jax I knew didn''t seem like the type to have roots. But here, he did.


    My gaze landed on a small wooden box in the corner, half-hidden beneath a folded cloth. It was delicate—beautifully carved. Too delicate for someone like him.


    I shouldn''t have touched it. I know that.


    But my fingers brushed the lid anyway, and I hesitated. Just a second.


    Then I opened it.


    Inside were small, unassuming items—trinkets and keepsakes, each one carrying the weight of some forgotten story. A coin, its surface worn smooth by time and touch. A few scraps of folded paper, edges yellowed and creased. And nestled among them, a letter—neatly bound with a ribbon, its seal still intact.


    I swallowed hard.


    Something about the letter made my chest tighten. I shouldn''t be looking at it. I knew that. But my hand moved on its own, fingertips grazing the ribbon as I lifted it out of the box.


    The handwriting on the front was unfamiliar. Neat. Deliberate.


    I turned it over slowly, heart ticking faster with every breath.


    And that''s when I heard it.


    Footsteps—faint, but distinct—creaking up the stairwell.


    My heart jumped.


    Jax is coming back.