Ch. 141

Ch. 141
I watch Perris disappear into the swirling mist, his figure growing indistinct until there's nothing left but the memory of his bewildered expression.
I can't blame him. In fact, I’m pretty sure that I’m the only one who has anything to answer for here. Had I known that my ill-begotten idea to sneak into this vault would turn out this way? Definitely not. But, if I had, would that have stopped me from asking Perris to join me? With a potential cure for Coach on the line, probably not. And that’s where the crux of my guilt lies—my priorities have been all over the place lately, and it’s starting to affect other people. And the twinge of giddiness in the pit of my stomach at the fact that Coach came for me—that Perris came back for me, only makes me feel worse.
It was their decision. Having people who care for you isn’t wrong.
But knowing this doesn't stop the hollow ache that spreads through my chest as the minutes tick by and Perris doesn't return.
Five-minute stretches to ten, then fifteen. The distant rumbling of the collapsing vault has faded to silence, leaving only the alien sounds of the swamp—bubbles bursting on the surface, strange croaking calls from unseen creatures, the soft rustle of mist curling through twisted branches. Our tree island feels smaller now, more exposed. Sitting here waiting for a rescue that might never come suddenly seems unbearable.
I push myself to my feet, wincing at the protest of muscles I didn't even realize I'd strained. My clothes are stiff with dried sweat and gritty with the vault's dust, making every movement an uncomfortable slog and a constant reminder of what I left behind.
Coach. The Professor. Fighting for their lives while I’m hiding in a swamp.
The thought propels me forward. I can't just sit here, passive, waiting. I need to move, to think, to find a way to help them if they've survived. And if they haven't... I cut the thought off before it can fully form, refusing to acknowledge the possibility.
I ease myself off the tree root and back into the murky swamp water. It's cold and thick, closing around my legs with unsettling intimacy. Something brushes against my calf again—that same slick, quick touch from before—and I flinch, but press forward anyway. The water only reaches my knees here, but each step requires effort, as if the swamp itself resists my intrusion.
"I'm going to look around," I call out, my voice sounding thin and fragile in the vast strangeness of this place. "Perris? If you can hear me, I'll be back soon."
No answer comes. Either he's too far away to hear, or he's choosing not to respond. The latter thought stings more than it should.
I push deeper into the swamp, following what seems to be a natural path where the water runs slightly clearer between twisted tree roots. The mist thickens around me, curling in patterns that almost look deliberate, as if it's studying me. Fungi cling to every surface, pulsing with bioluminescent light in shades of green and purple that transform the landscape into something off the set of a sci-fi B-movie.
The air is thick with humidity and the sweet-rot smell of decay, making each breath feel like drowning in slow motion. Droplets of moisture collect on my skin, running down my face in tracks that might be sweat or tears or simply condensation—it's impossible to tell the difference anymore. My hair clings to my neck in damp tendrils, and my clothes grow heavier with each step as they absorb the ambient moisture.
I should turn back. Return to the relative safety of our tree island. Wait for Perris to return, or for Coach and the Professor to somehow find us. But something pulls me forward—curiosity, or desperation, or simply the need to be in motion rather than trapped with my own thoughts.
"His mate?" I mimic the strangled way he'd said it, the disbelief and horror in his voice.
My bitter laughter echoes strangely in the mist, coming back distorted, as if the swamp itself mocks me. I trudge forward, the water growing marginally deeper with each step, now halfway up my thighs. The cold seeps into my bones, but I barely notice, too caught up in the whirlpool of my thoughts.
For one brief moment back in the vault, when Perris tackled me out of the path of that falling column, I'd felt something shift between us. His body pressed against mine, his heart hammering against my chest, his arms cradling my head in unexpected protection—it had felt like the start of something.
But now? I’m too much, plain and simple.
"Not that I can blame him," I mutter to myself, pushing aside a hanging curtain of moss that drips cold moisture down my neck when I disturb it. "Who wouldn't run from this mess?"
I think of all the years at Widdershins, the loneliness of being the only student without magic in a school built around it. The isolation of living in the clock tower while everyone else shared dorms, building friendships and falling for each other and all the connections that make up a normal adolescence. The whispers, the sidelong glances, and outright insults….
And now, just when I've finally discovered why I've always felt like an outsider, why I've never fit anywhere, the revelation only serves to push me further from belonging. Not human enough for the humans, apparently too magical for the magical community.
A movement at the edge of my vision makes me turn sharply, heart leaping into my throat. For a second, I think it's Perris, come to find me after all. But there's nothing there, just mist curling in strange patterns and the faint glow of fungi on a distant tree. I shake my head, blaming exhaustion and stress for the hallucination.
But then it happens again—a shadow moving just beyond clear sight, a shape that forms and dissipates like smoke. This time, I'm certain I'm not imagining it.