Beneath the Surface

Therrin's POV

Therrin's eyes remained shut, but sleep offered no peace.

A pressure lingered behind her ribs, low and growing—like something ancient curling awake inside her. It had started subtly: a whisper that brushed the edge of her thoughts, so faint she thought she imagined it. But now…

He doesn't see you. Not really.

Her breath hitched.

The voice was male—rich and cruelly tender. Not Dion. Not Ari. Not Grimm. This voice was older. Intimate in a way that didn't make sense.

You are not enough for him, the voice continued, velvet smooth. But you could be more. You were never meant to be small, Therrin.

Therrin's lips parted slightly as she lay still beneath the blanket. Moonlight streamed through the gaps in the wooden cabin walls, but it didn't touch her. Not truly.

"Therrin," came Ari's voice in her mind, gentle and warm. "You okay?"

Therrin clenched her jaw.

"Yes," she lied, her mental voice steady. "Just… tired."

Ari's presence leaned in. "You're not. I can feel it. Please don't shut me out."

She's always watching, the shadow whispered. Hovering. Suffocating. Pretending it's love when all she wants is control.

Therrin's chest tightened.

Ari's voice softened, filled with concern. "I'm not trying to control you. I want to help."

She says that now. But she doesn't know what you are, does she? What we are.

Therrin turned onto her side in the bed, fingers curling into the worn fabric. Dion stirred across the room, unaware.

He touched you, the shadow murmured, but it was Ari he reached for in the end. Not you. Not fully.

"That's not true," she whispered aloud. Just a breath. Barely a sound.

Ari didn't hear it. But she felt the ripple.

"Therrin. What's going on?" Ari asked again, urgency creeping into her voice.

Tell her to hush, the shadow coaxed. She's too loud. You don't need her right now.

Therrin's throat burned with unshed words.

"She's my twin soul," she whispered internally, even though her conviction faltered. "She loves me."

She fears you. The voice was silk laced with thorns. She wants the parts of you she understands. But what about the rest? The hunger? The dark? The part that doesn't kneel?

Ari's voice became more insistent. "Don't pull away from me, please. I know something's wrong. Let me in."

The two voices overlapped, warred.

And Therrin couldn't take it.

"Stop," she whispered aloud—this time with more force.

Ari recoiled in confusion. "Therrin…?"

Yes, the shadow hissed with pleasure. Yes. Push her back. Just for a little while.

Therrin didn't know how she did it—but her mind obeyed.

The barrier slammed up between her and Ari like a steel wall. Instinctive. Violent. Complete.

Ari's presence vanished in an instant.

And in that silence, the shadow flooded in.

Warm. Claustrophobic. Like dark arms wrapping around her soul.

There we are, he crooned. Just us. Finally.

Therrin gasped softly, eyes wide now. But her body was still. She couldn't scream. Couldn't move. It was like falling inward.

"Who are you?" she thought, her voice trembling inside the void.

Someone who's always loved you, he said, voice turning intimate. Even when you didn't know your own name. I saw you when you were rage and starlight. When you destroyed and wept at the same time.

A tremor passed through her core. The shadows in her mind began to take form—not shape exactly, but presence. Power. They pressed against the edges of her being, sinking tendrils into the brightness that had once lit her soul.

Not snuffing it out—but dimming it. Encasing it. Like lace over flame.

Therrin shivered.

"You're not real," she whispered, almost pleading.

I am more real than anyone else, he said. Because I am yours. I know the ache behind your ribs. The rage behind your silence. The loneliness buried under Ari's light and Dion's longing. They don't see you. They never could.

A tear slid silently down her cheek, and she didn't know whether it was grief, fear, or recognition.

The voice quieted, but its presence never faded. It settled deeper inside her, like a seed planting itself in fertile soil.

And in the distance—just outside the cabin, beyond the magical boundaries—something watched.

Hidden among the swirling shadowspawn, cloaked so deeply even Dion would not sense her, stood the Shadow Mistress. Cloaked in folds of black mist and silver runes, she tilted her head.

"She's shifting," the Mistress murmured, her voice low and satisfied. "The bond is stretching. The light falters. And soon…"

She didn't finish the thought.

She didn't have to.

Inside the cabin, Therrin lay frozen in silence. Ari was locked out. Dion unaware.

And the shadow's breath curled warmly against the back of her neck.

You are mine, he whispered, just before sleep finally took her.