“Are we going to sleep just like that?” Theo asked as I tucked him into bed.
His small hands clutched the edge of the blanket, pulling it up to his chin.
His eyes were wide and round in the dim candlelight, filled with that particular brand of concern only children could muster.
I knew exactly who he was talking about.
The strange man Theo had picked up hadn’t left my room all day.
The last time I’d seen him, he was holding a pen to my neck.
I wasn’t worried about him leaving.
No one could leave this place unless I opened the barrier myself.
Likewise, no one could enter.
To anyone outside, this sanctuary simply didn’t exist.
They could walk right past it and never realize anything was there.
They could stumble through the very spot where my home stood and feel nothing but empty air.
The barrier was the Goddess’s doing, after all—an ancient protection woven into the mountain itself, invisible to all but those she had chosen.
Truthfully, I should have returned to the temple the moment I completed the Goddess’s mission.
Instead…
I stayed.
The temple was exhausting.
The priests would fuss over me, clucking their tongues and smoothing my robes like I was still a child.
The clerics would lecture me about responsibility and duty and the weight of my station.
There would be ceremonies, reports, and endless questions—so many questions, each one more invasive than the last.
Just thinking about it made me tired.
Besides, the Goddess was the one who brought me here in the first place.
She had deposited me on this mountain with a vague instruction and a knowing smile, and I had simply…
decided to enjoy the peace a little longer.
It had only been a few weeks.
That wasn’t so bad, was it?
A few weeks of solitude, of quiet mornings and peaceful evenings, of cooking without interruption and sleeping without ceremony.
“Yes, Theo,” I answered, smoothing the blanket over his small frame.
“But the mister…” His voice trailed off, uncertain.
“The mister doesn’t want to see us right now.” I pulled the blanket tighter around him, tucking the edges beneath his chin.
“And that’s okay.” Theo lowered his head, his brow furrowing with worry.
“But he hasn’t eaten.” His voice became quieter, almost a whisper.
“It’s been a whole week.
Won’t he die?” “Theo…” “And all your healing would be wasted.” He looked genuinely heartbroken, his lower lip trembling.
“That mister doesn’t smell bad.” Theo said.
I smiled despite myself.
Theo judged everyone by their scent.
People who smelled bad were bad people.
People who smelled nice were good people.
It was that simple to him, that pure and uncomplicated.
Apparently, that was one of the reasons he had chosen me as his Sol.
He once told me I smelled better than anyone he’d ever met.
I still had absolutely no idea what he was talking about.
Whenever he went down the mountain to buy supplies, he’d come home complaining about people who “smelled wrong.” He’d wrinkle his nose and describe scents I couldn’t detect—something sharp, something sour, something that made him want to sneeze.
I couldn’t smell anything unusual.
Maybe it was just another Luminary thing.
“It’s okay, Theo.” I gently ruffled his hair, feeling the soft strands slip through my fingers.
“I’m sure the mister will come out for breakfast tomorrow.” I said.
“You really think so?” “Of course.” I lied without hesitation.
Personally, I didn’t care whether he came out tomorrow or next week.
As long as he stopped pointing pens at my neck and kept his accusations to himself, he could stay in that room until the mountain crumbled.
“Now close your eyes.” Theo nodded obediently, his eyelids fluttering shut.
“Okay.” Finally.
Peace.
His breathing slowed, his small body relaxing into the mattress.
Then his eyes snapped open again.
“We forgot to say goodnight to my friends.” …
Right.
I forced a smile, the muscles in my face straining with the effort.
“They’re waiting.” Theo happily began listing every single one of their names.
It took nearly an hour.
By the time he finished, he had already fallen asleep, his lips still slightly parted, his hand still clutching the edge of the blanket.
Lucky.
I quietly closed his bedroom door behind me, the latch clicking softly into place.
If Theo woke up again, I’d never get to sleep.
— I walked into the living room and looked at the pile of blankets I’d turned into a bed on the floor.
It wasn’t comfortable—the wooden planks were hard and cold beneath the thin layers of wool—but it was better than sharing a room with a man who’d held a weapon to my throat.
Even if the weapon was just a pen.
The rain outside had grown heavier, pounding against the roof in relentless sheets.
The wind howled through the cracks in the walls, carrying the sharp, wet scent of the mountain.
Cold air slipped through the gaps, making me shiver.
I pulled one blanket over my shoulders, wrapping it tightly around myself.
I really couldn’t sleep here forever.
Tomorrow I’d send him away.
Hopefully.
I lay down, my body sinking into the thin padding of the blankets.
The floor was hard and unyielding beneath me, every knot and grain pressing into my back.
Closed my eyes.
Opened them again.
“…Ugh.” Why couldn’t I sleep?
No matter how hard I tried, my thoughts kept drifting back to him.
To the way his hands had trembled.
To the raw, broken sound of his voice when he’d asked why he couldn’t see.
To the vulnerability he’d tried so desperately to hide beneath his anger.
Was he alright?
No.
Not my problem.
I rolled onto my other side, pulling the blanket tighter.
Five seconds later…
“…I hate myself.” With another sigh, I climbed back to my feet.
I’d just take one look.
One.
If he was alive, I’d leave.
If he was asleep, I’d leave.
If he was doing anything other than dying, I’d leave.
Quietly opening my bedroom door, I peeked inside.