Chapter 38: Lingering Shadows.

  Days had slipped by since the brutal confrontation with Holts, and the air in the cabin had grown thicker, laden with a suffocating silence. Every corner seemed to echo with the weight of grief, unspoken words hanging like ghosts in the dim light. Talon, once the rock of humor and resilience, was now a shell of his former self, consumed by the loss of Sarah.

  Ava, ever watchful, remained by his side. She guided him through the dark hours, gently pulling him back from the edge with quiet presence rather than words. The once lively cabin was now a place of quiet mourning, marked by the clink of glass and the soft crackling of the fire. Most nights ended with Ava helping Talon to bed, his grief heavy in the air like a storm waiting to break.

  Tonight was no different. The candlelight flickered, casting shadows that danced against the walls, and Talon sat hunched at the table, a half-empty bottle of liquor before him. His hand trembled as he reached for the bottle to refill his glass, his eyes rimmed with exhaustion and pain.

  "Did you finish it?" he asked suddenly, his voice rough, broken. He stared into the glass as if the answer was there, swirling with the amber liquid.

  Ava, seated across from him, held his gaze, her own drink untouched beside her. Her voice was steady but soft as she answered, "No. I didn't get the chance, Talon. He wasn’t as tough as you. He was gone before I could make him suffer."

  A hollow, bitter laugh escaped Talon’s lips, one that held no joy. "I guess I managed to do something right then," he muttered, his words laced with regret.

  "You did everything you could, Talon," Ava replied, her voice gentle but firm. She reached across the table, taking his hand, offering what little comfort she could. "Sarah’s death isn’t on you. It’s not something you could have stopped."

  Talon’s eyes, dark with sorrow, flickered with a mix of anger and guilt. "If he hadn’t shown up... She’d still be here," he whispered, his voice cracking under the weight of his grief.

  Ava didn’t respond right away. Instead, she squeezed his hand, letting the silence fill the space between them—a silence that spoke more than words ever could. She knew the pain of loss, the way it twisted inside, making every breath feel like a battle.

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  "We’re holding the funeral fire for her tomorrow," Ava finally said, her voice quieter now. "She was one of us. A true Sentinel, Talon. We need to be there. You need to be there."

  Talon shook his head, his face crumpling under the weight of his grief. "I can’t, Ava. I can’t face it. I can’t say goodbye," he whispered, reaching for the bottle again, seeking solace in its numbing warmth.

  Ava was quicker. She snatched the bottle from his grasp, her movements firm but filled with care. "No more for tonight," she said, her tone leaving no room for argument. "You can’t drown this pain, Talon. Believe me, I’ve tried."

  Talon’s eyes welled up as he tried to take the bottle back, his voice desperate, broken. "Please, Ava… I need it. I don’t want to feel this anymore."

  Ava crouched beside him, cradling his face in her hands, her eyes soft yet strong. "You don’t get to run from this, Talon. You don’t get to hide. Feeling it is what keeps us alive. And I need you alive."

  Talon’s shoulders slumped as he buried his face in his hands, his body shaking with sobs he could no longer hold back. "I loved her, Ava," he choked out. "I loved her so much."

  Ava pulled him into her arms, holding him tightly, just as he had held her in her darkest moments. "I know," she whispered, her voice filled with understanding. "I know you did, brother."

  After a while, Ava guided him to bed, her arm around his waist as he leaned heavily on her. His steps were slow, his body weighed down by exhaustion and grief. "The drink numbs it," Talon mumbled as they reached his room. "I don’t want to feel it anymore."

  Ava helped him under the blankets, her touch gentle as she tucked him in. "I need you to feel it," she said softly, sitting beside him. "Because if you don’t, then I’ll lose you too."

  Talon looked at her, his eyes filled with a deep, raw pain. "I love you, Ava," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "You're my sister... and I love you so much."

  Ava smiled, her heart aching for him. "I love you too, Talon," she said, brushing a hand through his hair like she had done a thousand times before. "Now rest. I’ll be right here."

  As Talon finally drifted into a restless sleep, Ava stood and quietly exited the room, closing the door softly behind her. She returned to the table, her movements slow, almost mechanical, as she poured herself a drink.

  Raising her glass to the empty room, she whispered, "To Sarah. I wish I’d known you better. Thank you for loving him. Even if it was just for a moment." She downed the drink in one swift motion, the burn of the alcohol a faint distraction from the cold emptiness settling in her chest.

  As she sat there in the stillness of the night, Ava couldn’t help but feel the weight of what was lost—Sarah, Talon’s happiness, a sense of peace they had all been searching for. But tomorrow would come. And with it, the fire that would send Sarah’s spirit to the stars.