Chapter 20: Delphine

We didn’t speak for a long time after leaving the vault.

The castle didn’t try to stop us, though the silence that followed us down the corridor felt heavier than before, like it was disappointed. Or waiting. Or both.

Theron stayed close as we walked, his hand grazing mine just once, as if testing whether it was still welcome. I didn’t pull away.

By the time we reached the garden, dawn had begun to spill pale gold across the eastern cliffs. The light filtered through the trees, catching on dew-soaked leaves and the low sweep of fog that clung to the stones. The world felt quieter here. Less haunted.

I stopped beneath the old willow where we’d kissed.

Theron stopped beside me.

“I didn’t want you to see that,” he said after a moment.

I turned toward him. “Why?”

He hesitated. “Because it confirmed what I’ve been afraid of. That the castle isn’t just reacting to you. It’s shaping itself around you. And the vault... it recognizes you now.”

“I saw it,” I said. “Not just the seal. Me. In that mirror. I don’t know if it was a vision or a warning. But I looked... different.”

Theron’s gaze was unreadable. “You looked powerful.”

“Too powerful?”

His silence answered before he could.

I sank onto the low stone bench near the path, feeling the weight of everything pressing in now that the adrenaline had faded. My body still hummed with residual magic from the vault. My skin tingled like something had touched me on a level deeper than flesh.

Theron didn’t sit right away. He paced a few steps, restless.

“I’ve seen what this place does to people who try to control it,” he said. “But I’ve never seen it choose. Not like this. Not even with her.”

He meant the last Ashwood. The one who sealed the vault. The one who never left.

“You loved her,” I said gently.

He didn’t flinch. “I thought I did.”

“And now?”

He turned, finally meeting my eyes. “Now I know the difference.”

That made my breath catch. Not because it was romantic—though it was—but because of how carefully he said it. How raw his voice had become. He hadn’t been avoiding feeling. He’d been protecting it. Hiding it behind duty, silence, centuries of guilt.

And now it was cracking.

I stood and stepped toward him.

“You don’t have to carry all of this alone,” I said. “The curse. The seal. Her memory. Whatever deal was made to keep this place from falling apart. I’m here now. Let me help.”

“I don’t know how,” he admitted, voice low. “Letting you in means letting go of control. Of what little power I’ve held together with blood and threadbare wards.”

I reached for his hand.

He let me take it.

“Then let’s lose control,” I said. “Together.”

The moment lingered—quiet, fragile, honest.

He leaned his forehead against mine, eyes closed. For a man who carried centuries of scars, the gesture was achingly tender.

“I’m afraid of what you’re becoming,” he whispered.

“I’m not,” I replied. “I think I was always meant to be this.”

He pulled back slightly, just enough to look at me. “Then whatever happens next... we face it side by side.”

I nodded.

The garden was still, but I could feel the castle watching. Waiting.

And for the first time, I didn’t care.

Because I wasn’t walking into this alone anymore.

I had him.

And together, we would see what waited beneath the stone.