*~Caspian's POV~*
The three of us were still here—wherever "here" even was. Heaven, hell, or some purgatory suspended between the two, it didn't matter anymore. All that mattered was that we were stuck. Seven endless days had bled into one another. Seven days without food, without water, without even a breeze to tell us time was moving.
Cyrius had dozed off again, his head slumping to the side, fangs barely showing against his pale lips. Cayden had pulled him close, sitting by the fireplace—not that it gave warmth, only a cruel illusion of comfort. I sat apart from them, watching the flames dance like mockery.
We'd been here since the moment Hazel last saw us. She'd glimpsed us on the fourth day; after that, nothing. We'd been alone for six more days, our hope fraying like old rope.
