Chapter 211

[ 1,160 words ]

Too Many Thoughts.

The hallway light was dim, jo enough to paint everything in that soft golden glow that made the place feel more like home than anywhere else ever could. And there was Elias, leaning against the opposite wall, two beers in hand and a

knowing smirk on his face.

He held one out to me. “Come on, brother,” he said. “It’s time we let loose a little p>

I blinked, then chuckled as I took the bottle. “You trying to get me drunk on my first night back p>

He popped his cap off with the edge of the doorframe, the hiss of it breaking the quiet. “Nah,” he said, grin widening. “Just

trying to remind you that life isn’t all brooding and magic p>

“Can’t argue with that logic,” I muttered, twisting mine open.

We headed out to the back porch, the boards creaking under our boots. The night air was cool, carrying the scent of pine and rain-soaked soil. Above us, the stars stretched endlessly and clear. We sat on the steps, shoulders brushing, and for a

long time, neither of us spoke. Just the sound of cicadas and the soft clink of bottles between us.

Eventually, Elias let out a low hum. “You still thinking about her p>

I stared out into the dark yard. “Always p>

He didn’t press, just nodded, taking a long drink before changing the subject. “The twins started a mud war in the garden again today. Took me an hour to get them cleaned up, and Dad’s still pretending he doesn’t find it funny p>

I chuckled, leaning back on my hands. “Pa’s got no poker face. I caught him laughing before he went to yell at them p>

“Right?” Elias laughed, shaking his head. “Man’s a softie at heart p>

The talk drifted after that, easy and light. About the kids, about the pack, about how Ma still threatened to tan our hides if

we didn’t take our boots off before coming inside. Beer after beer disappeared, and the weight in my chest slowly

loosened. The stars seemed brighter, the night less heavy. Elias told a story about one of the orphans trying to use ‘magic’

to “summon” dessert after dinner, and I laughed harder than I had in weeks. Somewhere between the fourth and finch

bottle, I realise how much I’d missed this, just sitting with my brother, no danger, no expectations, no destiny hanging

over our heads. Just two idiots on a porch, watching the stars and pretending we weren’t a little broken.

Elias leaned back, sighing. Feels good to breathe, huh p>

“Yeah,” I said quietly. “It does p>

Macey

Too Many Thoughts.

Sleep duin’t come easily that night.

I’d been staring at the selling for what felt like hours, the moonlight spilling across my room in pale silver streaks. Everything was too stiff 400 guier. My head wouldn’t stop replaying the same two moments, tangled together in a mess of

emotion I didn’t want to face,

Elliot’s touch,

Dean’s smile.

It was maddening, the contrast between them.

Elliot’s world felt like gravity, pulling me in no matter how much I tried to stay balanced. The way he’d looked at me

earlier, like he could see straight through the walls I’d built, left a tremor in my chest that still hadn’t gone away. That

kiss, the one that shouldn’t have happened, had cracked something open inside me. I could still feel the warmth of his

hands, the sadness in his voice when he said he’d wait.

And then there was Dean.

Dean, who’d appeared out of nowhere and made me laugh when I’d forgotten how. Who turned everything light again, who

didn’t know a damn thing about the weight I carried but somehow made it easier anyway. Dinner with him had been

simple-normal-and it had felt good to forget, even just for a few hours.

Two different kinds of chaos.

Two different pieces of me.

I rolled onto my side, pulling the blanket tighter around me. Maybe it was wrong to even compare them, to put Elliot and

Dean in the same breath, but my heart didn’t care about logic,

Elliot was history and fire.

Dean was mystery and air.

And me? I was caught somewhere between the two, too tangled to choose, too scared to let either one go. The packhouse

was silent around me, everyone long asleep. Somewhere out there, Elliot was probably in the Underworld, buried beneath

shadows and duty. And Dean, he was likely dreaming without a care, the new boy in a world he didn’t yet understand

I closed my eyes and whispered into the dark, “What are you doing to me p>

No answer came. Only the ache of uncertainty, and the slow, steady beat of my own confused heart.

Sang Bang. Bang!

24

5:34 pm

ppp.

Too Many Thoughts.

“Mace! Get up p>

Lyra’s voice came through the door like a battle horn. “We’re gonna be late p>

I groaned, dragging a pillow over my head. “Go away p>

“Nope,” she called, far too chipper for this hour. Another round of banging followed. “Five minutes or I’m telling Dad you

overslept again p>

That got me moving. Sort of. I shoved the blanket off and sat up, squinting against the light streaming through the window. My room was a disaster: clothes on the chair, shoes kicked halfway under the bed, and last night’s makeup smudged on my face. I couldn’t even remember falling asleep. I just remembered tossing and turning until the moon had

started to fade.

Now, apparently, the sun had declared war on my existence.

I stumbled to my feet with a groan. “Ugh, I feel like death p>

“You look it too!” Lyra shouted from the other side of the door, obviously eavesdropping.

“Thanks, you’re a ray of sunshine,” I muttered, pulling on the first outfit I could find, a pair of jeans and a soft black top that didn’t require effort. My hair was a lost cause, so I twisted it into a messy bun and glared at my reflection. Great. Puffy eyes, dark circles, and no time for damage control. When I checked the clock, panic kicked in. I’d overslept by nearly

half an hour. Which meant… No coffee.

I whimpered quietly to myself. “This is cruel and unusual punishment p>

By the time I yanked open my door, Lyra was waiting, her backpack already slung over one shoulder and her hair

annoyingly perfect.

“Finally,” she said, rolling her eyes. “You’re supposed to be the responsible one p>

“I was responsible,” I muttered, grabbing my own bag. “Then life decided to personally attack me p>

“Translation: you stayed up too late thinking about boys again p>

I stopped halfway down the stairs. “What did you just p>

But Lyra was already sprinting toward the front door, laughing like a maniac.

I sighed, shoving my shoes on as the sound of the quads arguing outside reached my ears. Another morning in

paradise….And still no coffee Perfect.

3.4

5:34 pm

PPP

Goddess Of The Underworld

Juliet Zvayi

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