The night grew teeth.
What little warmth the overcast sky had spared earlier had long since vanished, replaced by a slow, creeping chill that clawed its way up Ariadne's spine.
Still, she didn't move.
The street was nearly swallowed in darkness now. No streetlights, no distant city glow, just the dim, natural grey of an unseen moon behind thick clouds. The gate loomed before her, tall and iron and unforgiving. Beyond it, the house stood still, quiet, shrouded in shadows that refused to give her even a flicker of his silhouette.
Caelen.
She didn't know his name. Not yet.
But she felt it.
Felt him like a heartbeat out of sync with her own.
And he was in there. She knew it in her bones.
Her legs ached. Her toes had gone numb some time ago, and now her fingers tingled unpleasantly where they clutched the straps of her bag. She let them drop and hugged her arms around herself instead. Her breath left her in faint wisps of mist. She rubbed her arms but didn't turn away.
She couldn't. Not yet.
She'd lost track of how long she'd been standing there. Thirty minutes? An hour? It didn't matter. Not when every minute that passed made her feel a little more like this was where she was supposed to be, This was where she belonged.
She remembered the sudden stillness in the air when he'd seen her that first time. The intensity in his eyes. The way he'd turned and walked away like retreat was the only option. Like she had broken something by simply existing.
Her stomach twisted.
She didn't know what she was doing anymore. All the certainty she'd clung to over the weeks,the belief that this pull meant something.
She might not know the full meaning behind all of this, but one thing that was certain to her was that she wasn't going to leave, no matter what.
The night pressed in closer.
Her body was beginning to betray her. Every muscle felt tight, every breath stung. The cold was settling into her bones. Her pride whispered that it was time to go. That she had waited long enough, and nothing was going to change.
But her feet stayed planted.
She was too far in now.
Too far gone.
Her hands tightened around her as she looked up to the high windows, in hope—or perhaps anticipation.
Then she saw a movement.
A flicker behind one of the high windows. Just a sliver of light, and a shadow passing in front of it.
A silhouette.
Brief. Sharp.
Her heart jumped, hope flaring like a match in the dark.
She took a step forward, her hands gripping the iron bars of the gate. They were colder than she expected, freezing against her skin. She didn't care.
She didn't shout.
She didn't beg.
She just whispered, "Please."
The wind picked up suddenly, swirling dried leaves at her feet, tugging at her coat like it, too, wanted her to move. Like it was warning her.
But she held her ground.
The cold kept digging in. Her knees buckled slightly as a wave of dizziness hit her, but she forced herself upright again. She wasn't going to fall. Not yet.
She had come too far to be turned away by silence.
Minutes passed. Or maybe seconds. Time was starting to slip through her fingers like sand.
The pressure in her chest grew tighter, heavier. Her thoughts turned sluggish, slow. Her body leaned forward without meaning to, forehead pressing gently to the bars. The iron stung.
Still, she waited.
And then, as her eyes drifted closed for just a moment too long—
The world tilted.
Her knees gave out.
She sank to the ground, Her shoulder hit the stone path. Her cheek pressed to the cold.
Her arms curled around herself, instinctively, as if even now she was trying to protect something, anything inside her from freezing.
The wind howled once, sharp and cutting.
But she didn't hear it—her consciousness was already drifting away.