The Light Within (Shadow and Light Duology #2)

34. Cinn

thirty-four

Cinn

V oices.

Voices up ahead, in the endless dark void of the tunnels.

A faint murmur of voices, carrying through the darkness like an unsettling whisper.

Cinn abruptly froze, flinging his arms out to grip the wall, steadying himself.

And was that the tiniest shred of light, a faint glimmer seeping through a crack in the stone?

With slow, tentative footsteps, he travelled towards it.

The light grew brighter as he approached, casting distorted shadows on the walls and promising a glimpse of something beyond the all-encompassing dark. His heart raced with a mix of hope and trepidation as he moved closer, straining to catch the murmurs.

The voices grew louder, the frantic urgency escalating until one voice erupted into a rapid, angry torrent of French.

Julien!

Cinn’s recognition of Julien’s voice was instant, but the raw fury in it was something new, something dangerous.

Julien screamed, a raw, guttural scream that tore through the very fabric of the catacombs, and Cinn’s heart. A scream so tangible it would be absorbed into the substance of the walls for eternity.

Panic surged through Cinn, propelling him into a frantic, fumbling run. Each scream that followed was more tortured than the last, slicing through his nerves and filling him with a visceral dread. He had never heard Julien scream before, and the sound was a piercing, agonising assault on his soul. Cinn let slip his own scream of frustration, hating himself for not being quick enough to prevent whatever was happening.

The light grew brighter as Cinn barreled forward, the darkness retreating. The tunnel opened into a large chamber, flickering light casting shadows over the stone walls. His breath caught as he took in the scene.

Lucien Montaigne stood tall, his shadow stretching across the walls like a sinister, twisted devil. Beside him loomed some sort of colossal machine. The machine. Julien had found it!

Julien .

Cinn’s gaze locked on him immediately. Julien was on the ground, hands bound behind his back, struggling violently as two burly men dragged him across the rough stone floor. His clothes were torn, hair a tangled, filthy mess, and his face smeared with dark dust. Yet his expression was pure fury, twisted in defiance, every muscle straining as he fought with all he had to pull away from Jonathan Steele. Jonathan Steele, who was pressing an impossibly large needle into the base of Julien’s scalp.

“Stop!”

The scene unfolding in front of him became a tableau as everyone froze. Pure, unadulterated shock rippled through the chamber, filling the air with a heavy, palpable tension.

Cinn’s gaze collided with Julien’s. He searched his expression, expecting to see relief there, or joy. Instead, he saw only devastation. Julien’s face was a mask of utter despair: his eyes were wide, glazed over with a sheen of unshed tears, and the usually vibrant spark in them was replaced by a hollow, pained look. His mouth was set in a grim line, trembling slightly as if trying to form words that wouldn’t come.

At the end of a very long moment, Julien shouted, “Run! ”

Everything happened at once. Lucien barked orders in French, sending Cinn instinctively stumbling away from the two men who’d dropped Julien to step towards him.

A powerful burst of wind slammed into his left side, sending him hurtling through the air. His head smacked against the solid rock, a sickening thud echoing through the chamber as the impact sent a jarring shockwave of pain through his skull.

Every bone in his body felt shattered, every muscle pulled.

Julien screamed again. With all he had left, Cinn tried to sit up to show him he was alright, but it was no use. He didn’t have the capacity. Stars swam in his blurry vision. Flat on his back, he faced the chamber’s ceiling. He attempted to make sense of the outraged voices, shouting French at each other. The tense back-and-forth between them implied an argument. Were they debating what to do with him? Julien’s voice cut through them. Oh, God—was he begging ?

With immense effort, Cinn managed to roll onto his side, though pain pounded through his skull.

Julien was on his knees, hands still bound behind him—not just with any handcuffs, but those motepower-restricting ones now familiar to Cinn, since he’d seen that memory of Isabelle almost being forced into them.

Julien’s eyes were wild, his words frantic. “ Je t’en prie, ne lui fais-pas de mal! Je ferais tout ce que tu veux, je te jure, mais laisse-le partir !”

The sight of Julien’s desperate plea to the father he despised for Cinn’s life was a gut-wrenching display of sacrifice, the emotional cost too high for Cinn to fully comprehend.

“Julien,” Cinn croaked out. He twitched his arm out towards him.

A familiar shadow flickered at the edge of his vision. Béatrice rematerialised, her shadowy form prowling closer. She slunk towards Cinn’s shadow. For a moment, she simply perched there, then, her wavering fur extended, and she melted into a formless puddle .

Cinn felt her formidable power before he even understood what was happening—she’d melded with his shadow, just as she had on Westminster Bridge. An incredible surge of strength flowed through him, the throbbing in his head receding.

On shaky legs, Cinn climbed to his feet.

The five others stared at him. No, not at him , but at his shadow behind him. He didn’t need to see it—he could feel it. An overwhelming, pulsating force, ready to be wielded. As he raised his palms, the darkness around him responded, shifting and coiling, a weapon at his command. He was no longer a defenceless victim; he was a force of shadow and strength, and he was infuriated with apoplectic rage.

Jonathan’s hand still gripped the collection of needles attached to the machine. His face turned stricken as he realised he’d gained Cinn’s attention. Releasing the appendages, they clattered to the ground at Jonathan’s feet as he raised his hands in surrender.

Cinn didn’t hesitate. He did not show mercy.

With a surge of will, he commanded his shadow to stretch out and wrap around Jonathan’s arm, the one that he was going to use to hurt Julien, moments ago. The darkness twisted and tightened with brutal force, squeezing until the bone splintered beneath the pressure. A sickening crack echoed through the chamber as his arm was crushed. Blood poured out, a dark, viscous fluid that pooled on the ground, surrounding the needles. The man screamed, a piercing, agonised sound that was abruptly cut off as the shadow’s grip tightened further, leaving him writhing in what looked like excruciating pain.

Lucien barked orders at his two men, who were staring at Cinn with twin expressions of wide-eyed horror. Without communicating, they simultaneously turned, and angled their escape towards the nearest tunnel.

Cinn sent his shadow surging forward, wrapping around the men with a forceful grip. In an instant, he’d slammed them violently against the tunnel wall, the impact resonating with an echoing thud. The shadow released their hold, and the men crumpled to the ground, unconscious, their bodies sprawled in a tangled heap of defeated limbs.

Nearby them, Jonathan had passed out from blood loss, or pain. Or he could be dead. Either worked.

Three down, one to go.

Cinn turned to Lucien, who looked between him and Julien. Calculation shot over his face, and he lunged for Julien.

How tempting it was to break Lucien’s neck.

It took everything in him to resist.

Instead, he sent as much power through his shadow as he dared, slamming Lucien’s head against the tunnel wall. He slumped to the ground, body folding in on itself.

I hope that hurt.

Breathing hard, Cinn basked in the sheer exhilaration of the shadow obeying his will, its pliant, dark form shifting with precision and force. Like this, he was untouchable. The power was intoxicating, and Cinn revelled in the rush. He hadn’t touched any sort of drug in years, but the high they offered was the only thing he could compare it to. The sensation was thrilling, a heady mix of control and liberation that surged with each fresh command he issued. The raw, unrestrained power was an escape from the helplessness he’d felt for most of his life, being dragged into the shadowrealm against his will. Being told he was insane by psychologists. Bringing back malevolent entities that slaughtered people in front of him, while he was powerless to stop it.

So this? Yes, this was exhilarating .

And frightening.

Ever so terrifying.

But Cinn pushed it all to one side.

Julien needed him.

Julien stumbled slowly towards him, face a picture of desperation, like if he could just reach Cinn, everything would be okay.

God, how Cinn needed to touch him. Hold him. Never let him go.

Cinn threw himself across the cavern, wrapping him up in his arms. As Julien sighed into his ear, a missing piece of Cinn finally slotted back into place. He crushed Julien to him so tightly, as if holding them both close enough would prevent them from ever parting again.

“Smash these fucking cuffs off me so I can kiss you.”

Cinn slowly let go, and Julien presented him with his back. With gentle fingers, Cinn parted Julien’s matted hair, searching for a puncture wound. There was a tiny red dot, which he smoothed with his finger.

Time to get the cuffs off. A deep breath in, and Cinn was ready. He conjured a small tendril of shadow, careful to keep it controlled, and willed it to curl around the metal cuffs. He let the shadow pulse with pressure, testing the strength of the restraints. “Hold still,” he muttered, concentrating hard. With a quick motion, he tightened the shadow’s grip and heard the satisfying crack of the metal giving way. The cuffs fell to the ground with a dull clink, and Julien’s arms dropped free.

“ Merci .” Julien rotated and stretched his wrists, rubbing at where they’d been bound. Then he pierced Cinn with his gaze, intensity swimming in its grey depths. “You’re a fool, by the way, coming here and endangering yourself like this.”

“Are you joking? You’re the asshole who ran off and forced me to come find you!”

Their gazes burned into one another, colliding like two stars caught in each other’s orbit. Magnetic, unstoppable. Without a word, they closed the tiny distance between them, Cinn yanking on Julien’s scarf to pull him closer even quicker. Arms wrapped around waists, hands found hair, lips pressed against lips. The brief kiss was filled with a desperate blend of relief and longing, Cinn pouring every inch of himself into it .

“I was so terrified I’d never see you again. It was all I could think about,” Julien said softly into Cinn’s ear. “I can’t believe you came.”

Cinn stepped back to stare at his mess of a boyfriend. After everything they’d done and said, how could that possibly be true?

“Okay, don’t look at me like that. I can believe it. And for what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

Cinn pressed their foreheads together, squeezing the nape of Julien’s neck like he could slip away again at any moment. “You’re a fucking idiot. But I love you. And fuck, I missed you.”

“What did it take? Five minutes?” Julien’s exhausted face attempted a smirk, and Cinn cupped his face to kiss both of his dimples.

“If you do this to me again, I will kill you,” Cinn warned.

“I’d completely understand. But I promise, it’ll never happen again.”

Cinn would have liked to have Julien sign some sort of contract in blood, there and then, but in the background, the machine whirred. He pulled away from Julien with a sigh. “I better destroy this damned thing.” Truth be told, he was looking forward to it.

Cinn’s eyes locked onto the machine. A shiver of awe and dread rippled through him as he took in its monstrous form. Machina Tenebris. The name fit perfectly. It dominated the chamber, a grotesque fusion of metal and dark technology Cinn could only guess at. The machine thrummed with a faint, constant vibration, resonating through the ground and into Cinn’s very bones. Somehow, he could sense its power, a deep, foreboding presence that made his own newfound strength feel insignificant in comparison.

The Machina Tenebris needed to be destroyed.

“Stay back,” Cinn warned Julien.

Cinn’s gaze bored into the pulsating core of the Machina Tenebris as he summoned his dark friend, directing the shadowy limb towards the machine’s heart. His shadow slithered and surged, aiming for the core that surely powered the whole damned machine. However, as his shadow inched closer, a strange resistance became apparent. The blue light of the core flickered defiantly, and the crystalline tubes pulsed with energy, as if repelling his efforts.

Cinn tried again.

Again, the shadow failed to penetrate the machine’s defences, its dark tendrils recoiling as they encountered an invisible barrier. Cinn could feel the resistance, akin to magnets repelling each other. The force that was almost sentient, pushing back against each attempt. Frustration and desperation surged within him.

“Stop!”

Cinn blinked, shaking his head. Julien had been trying to get his attention for some time.

“It’s impervious to shadow.”

You don’t say. “I can see that.”

“Let me try. I’ve been itching to since the second I saw it.”

Is that safe? Cinn wanted to ask, but bit his tongue. Julien needed security and confidence, not seeds of doubt. “Are you sure? You don’t look great.” That was an understatement—his face was pale and drawn, his hands trembled slightly, and there was a lingering tension in his posture.

But Julien only stepped forward, eyes narrowing at the pulsating core of the Machina Tenebris . He extended his hand. In an instant, the chamber filled with pure, bright white light. Beautiful, bright light.

Sparks of light danced circles around him like tiny stars, and in that moment, Julien, with his mess of golden hair, seemed less like a man and more like a celestial being descended into the shadows—a vengeful angel.

His light grew brighter, intensifying with each passing second until it was nearly blinding. Julien’s face was set in determination as he thrust his hand forward, and light shot through the air, a swarm of fiery sparks. They collided with the machine, embedding themselves in the metallic surface and seeping into the cracks and crevices of its structure. Flickering for a moment, they then flared with a sudden burst of energy, sending out a searing light that caused the machine to groan and shudder.

Cinn threw his arm in front of his face, blinking rapidly. Several parts of the machine burst into flame.

“Is this safe?” Cinn shouted, as the flames spread across the dark metal like wildfire. The crystalline tubes hissed and shattered, severing the red tendrils that snaked around the machine.

As Cinn took several steps back, wrenching Julien back with him, the core throbbed violently, the blue light flickering erratically as if fighting against the onslaught of Julien’s motes. A sharp crack rang through the chamber, followed by a deep rumble as the core’s protective lattice splintered.

Smoke filled the chamber, obscuring Cinn’s view, but more importantly, choking his lungs. He coughed, spluttering all over Julien.

Julien doubled over, hacking violently as the smoke clawed at his throat, each cough racking his body.

“Ju—” Cinn tried to shout his name, but was rendered speechless by the smoke smothering him.

Another coughing fit hit Julien. He struggled against it, then managed to croak, “Hold on,” pushing Cinn flat against a wall.

What was a minor draft passing through the chamber became a strong wind, then a violent, swirling vortex, whipping all the smoke away from them into the whirlwind encircling the machine.

The Machina Tenebris was no longer visible, lost in the churning mass of thick, grey smoke. The air crackled with energy, the swirling fog distorting the space around it like a frenzied mirage.

A deafening roar ripped from the centre. Cinn dropped to his knees and squeezed his eyes shut.

There was a series of snapping sounds, followed by what sounded like a pattering of glass raining down onto the ground. Then the raucous noise faded. Cinn peeled his eyes open to find the smoke dissipating—Julien was directing it down a tunnel. It left behind a pile of twisted, melted metal, jagged edges still glowing faintly with heat, like the scattered bones of a defeated beast. The machine was utterly destroyed, a lifeless, deformed heap.

A profound stillness settled over the chamber, wrapping around them like a heavy shroud. The change could be felt , deep within Cinn’s bones, a palpable shift in the air. The oppressive weight that had filled the space moments before lifted, replaced by an eerie calm. Was he imaging this? He exchanged a glance with Julien, and was met with his answer.

Cinn found Julien’s hand, squeezed it tight. “You did it.”

Julien did not reply, and his hand slipped out of Cinn’s to hang by his side.

“Julien?” Cinn dropped his voice down low, cautious.

Julien was still staring at the machine, his jaw clenched tight, eyes filled with a dark, simmering rage. His entire body was trembling, almost vibrating with fury, as if he were barely holding himself together. His chest heaved with rapid, shallow breaths, and his fists clenched so tightly that his knuckles were white. The strong frown etched into his forehead seemed to deepen even further, his expression hardening into something almost feral.

“ Non !” Lucien’s voice cut through the air like a blade, and Cinn almost jumped out of his skin. Lucien had gotten to his feet, his clothes covered in ash, a stream of blood trickling from his left ear down to his collarbone. “ Non !” he shouted again, his voice raw with disbelief and fury. “ Qu’as-tu fait?! ”

Julien’s head slowly turned, his glare locking onto his father, eyes blazing with a cold, terrifying intensity that chilled Cinn to the bone. His body shook harder, as though every muscle was straining to hold back an eruption. His lips curled back slightly, and his breath came in ragged bursts, barely controlled, a storm ready to break .

There was no denying it—Julien was no longer entirely in control of himself.

“ Adieu, Père. ”

A jolt of fear shot through Cinn’s veins, sharp and electric. He stepped in front of Julien. “Wait!”

Julien made to push him out of the way; Cinn placed his hand on Julien’s chest, imploring him with his eyes.

“He’s a murderous, abusive cunt,” Julien stated coolly, eyes looking straight through Cinn. “Move out of the way.”

Vibration pulsed through Cinn. Julien, still shaking with fury? No, it was the very ground he was standing on. The ground trembled beneath them, a low, rumbling that echoed Julien’s anger, growing stronger with each second, the catacombs themselves responding to the storm building within him.

“Julien!” Cinn’s voice wavered with fear, but Julien didn’t flinch, didn’t even acknowledge it. His eyes remained locked on his father, the silence between them far more menacing than any words. A horrible chill ran through Cinn—Julien’s indifference was terrifying, as if nothing and no one, not even him, could reach the man standing there, holding the weight of his rage like a loaded weapon. Lucien, thankfully, had the sense to stay silent.

The surrounding stones rattled. Dust fell from the ceiling.

Cinn’s sense of dread grew as the shaking intensified, small rocks cascading from the ceiling.

“He deserves to die. He needs to die.” Julien delivered the words in a monotone, the air around them thickening with the force of his fury.

“Listen to me, please.” Cinn placed two hands on Julien’s face, bracing to be shoved away. “Don’t do this to yourself. Let’s walk away. Darcy and Elliot are down here somewhere.” Hopefully. “And Eleanor. Let her deal with him.”

Julien’s mouth twisted .

“Please,” Cinn pleaded. “If you won’t do it for yourself, do it for me.”

The rumble beneath their feet grew stronger and the dust raining down upon them grew thicker, some of it being inhaled into Cinn’s lungs, making him cough.

“You’re scaring me!” Cinn cried, desperately clutching at straws, though it was the truth. He fisted the material of Julien’s shirt. “You’re going to bring the whole place down on us!”

Lucien staggered slightly, bringing a hand to his mouth as a harsh cough erupted from his chest. “Yes, listen to him. You love him, yes? You’ll kill him. You’ll kill us all!”

“How about you shut the fuck up,” Cinn snarled at him, before turning back to Julien. He slapped his cheek lightly. “I know how angry you are right now. But don’t be like him. You’re so much better than that.”

“I love you.” It wasn’t enough to make up for Julien’s disaster of a father, but it would have to be a start. “I love you so much. Now stop shaking the fucking catacombs before you raise the dead.”

Julien’s face softened slightly, a crack of light piercing through the dark cloud that loomed above him. He made a loud, defeated sound, pressing his hands to his temple, then he slipped to his knees. Something heavy hit Cinn’s head before tumbling off, and he glanced down to see something suspiciously bone-coloured on the floor. The ceiling still trembled, small fragments of stone still falling. A horrible cracking sound from somewhere deep in the catacombs boomed through a tunnel. What was happening? Why wasn’t Julien stopping?

“I… can’t!” Julien croaked out, still pressing his fingers to his temple. He unleashed another horrible scream. “I don’t want this! I’ve never wanted it!”

Cinn joined Julien on the floor, grabbing both of his hands. “It’s okay.” If they were about to be buried alive, they would at least be found together. In one hundred years, archaeologists would find their skeletons entwined around each other, and declare them roommates.

A sudden loss , as if something had been ripped out of Cinn, made him lurch forward. His shadow suddenly possessed only its usual darkness, its usual shape.

“Béatrice?”

The cat didn’t look Cinn’s way; her beady eye-sockets locked on Julien’s slumped form. Then Béatrice glided across the floor, her shadowy form moving with grace and purpose. She reached Julien, cocking her head. Slowly, her fur extended outwards and upwards, until she was no longer cat-shaped. Béatrice wrapped herself gently around him, as if offering an embrace. The dark wisps drew closer, and closer, enfolding Julien in a protective cocoon.

Julien’s tremors eased, his noises of frustration calming as Béatrice’s dark essence intertwined with him. She was, Cinn imagined, absorbing his anguish, her formless body melding with his own turmoil.

The shaking of the catacombs subsided slightly.

Yes! Keep going!

The shadows twisted around Julien, covering almost every inch of him. Eyes closed, his golden hair whipped around his face. Then the tremors lessened even more, becoming faint vibrations as Béatrice’s shadowy presence enveloped Julien entirely.

The shadows unraveled from Julien, slowly loosening their grip. They swirled gently, like a soft breeze stirring dark tendrils, hovering close before retreating. Julien’s eyes opened, locking onto Cinn’s. In them, Cinn saw a quiet steadiness, the wildness that had gripped him moments ago now replaced by something grounded, resolute.

Cinn stepped towards him—

A pained cry shot through the room.

Lucien had seized his chance of escape, reaching the entrance to the nearest tunnel. But he’d tripped on something, landing in a twisted heap, clutching his leg.

Béatrice’s shadow tore away from Julien, moving with a sudden, lethal grace. It surged forward, a mass of writhing darkness, intent and unstoppable. Lucien barely had time to register the movement before the shadows were upon him, wrapping around his body like serpents. They coiled tighter and tighter, a malevolent force dragging him down with a brutal snap. He hit the ground hard, his eyes bulging with terror.

The dark tendrils pulsed, growing more intense, more violent. Lucien’s breath hitched into a choking gasp, his mouth opening wide in a silent, desperate scream. Then, with a sickening pop, his eyeballs sprang from their sockets, dangling grotesquely as blood streamed down his face like tears. His expression was frozen in horror, a twisted mask of agony as the shadow crushed him further.

Bones snapped with sickening cracks, limbs bending at impossible angles as Béatrice’s shadow constricted him tighter and tighter, his body folding in on itself. The sound of flesh ripping echoed in the chamber, the shadows feeding on his form until all that was left was a grotesque heap of shattered bone and torn muscle, twisted beyond recognition.

Cinn’s stomach turned violently, nausea roiling inside him as he took in the sight of the mangled corpse. His hand flew to his mouth as he doubled over, retching, unable to tear his eyes from the grim spectacle. The stench of blood and death filled the air, clinging to his senses as he heaved.

There was a whisper of words Cinn couldn’t quite catch. Then, after one final shadowy flourish, Béatrice evaporated like mist.

The catacombs fell eerily silent, the shaking ceasing completely as the echoes of Lucien’s final cries faded away.

“Fuck,” Cinn managed to croak out. “Fucking hell. ”

Cinn’s gaze snapped straight back to Julien, every muscle in his body tense, fearing he’d still be unreachable. But the storms swirling in his eyes were gone. Though clearly exhausted, he was back. Cinn tentatively squeezed his arm, eliciting a faint but heartfelt smile which filled the dark cavern with sunlight.

Julien’s hand closed tightly around Béatrice’s locket. “She’s gone,” he said. “We won’t see her again. That’s that.”

Wrapping his arms around Julien’s waist, Cinn pulled him tight against him. He rested his chin on Julien’s shoulder. “She’s at peace,” Cinn said. Though he didn’t truly know, it felt good to say. “But I’m going to look after you for her now.”

“And he’s gone.” Julien stared at the unrecognisable lump that was previously his father.

“Yeah.” Béatrice had killed him so Julien didn’t have to, and for that, Cinn would be eternally grateful. “He had it coming.” Cinn scrutinized Julien’s reaction for any hint of regret, and found none.

Julien’s fingers curled into the fabric of Cinn’s shirt, clinging to him like a lifeline. “I wasn’t sure I was going to come back from that. I almost…” He let out a massive exhale, the breath escaping him like he’d been holding it in for hours, the tension finally draining from his body.

“It’s all over. You can rest now,” Cinn assured him, cupping Julien’s face, thumbs brushing away the dirt and sweat. “I’ve got you.”

“I could sleep for a week.” With a sigh, Julien sank into Cinn. His eyes fluttered shut. Ever so slowly, the tension in his muscles softened, the weight of the world lifting from his shoulders as he surrendered to the warmth and safety of Cinn’s embrace.

Julien may as well nap—he’d need the energy if they were to find their way out of this place. Cinn wrapped his arms around him, squeezing him as hard as he dared. It wasn’t until he felt the rhythmic rise and fall of Julien’s chest that his own breathing finally steadied. Sat still on the ground, Julien’s warmth seeped into him, keeping the chill at bay. Cinn’s hand drifted across Julien’s stolen hoodie, slightly torn in several places. That was okay. He’d give him another one the moment they got back home.

Time slipped away in that quiet moment. Cinn savoured the sensation of Julien nestled against him, each heartbeat creating a soothing rhythm, the chaos they had just faced already feeling like a distant memory. He lost himself in the softness of Julien’s hair against his cheek, the way his body relaxed against him, and the gentle rise and fall of his breathing. Each second stretched into eternity, reinforcing the quiet sanctuary they’d created, and Cinn was reluctant to disturb it.

“What in the ever-loving—” a voice behind Cinn cried.

Cinn had thought Julien close to sleep, but he laughed, the rumble of his chest so great it shook Cinn. Untangling, they found six pairs of eyes staring at the scene in disbelief and horror. Mainly horror.

“Are they all dead?” Noir said, observing the bodies.

“He is, definitely.” Cinn jerked his head at Lucien. “The jury is still out on the others.”

Eleanor tore a hand through her hair, looking like she could easily rip it out. “You had to go and make a mess, didn’t you?”

“Did you expect anything less?” Julien’s lips twitched upward, and his smile almost met his eyes.

Darcy and Elliot climbed over bodies, melted machine parts, and piles of bones to reach them. Without a single word, they closed in around Cinn and Julien, their arms wrapping around them in a hurried collective embrace. Both of them were shaking—whether from adrenaline, fear, or exhaustion, Cinn couldn’t tell. Their bodies pressed tightly together, squishing Cinn so much he could barely breathe. But he wouldn’t have had it any other way.

“You look like shit,” Darcy told Julien.

Julien grabbed her head to press violent kisses on both cheeks. “I love you too. ”

Elliot’s face shone with sweat. “I would murder the pair of you if I had an ounce of energy left.” He glared at Cinn, with a wide grin.

“How about we move past all the murder stuff now?” Cinn pulled at his baggy hoodie, soaked with blood.

Eleanor joined them, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Right now, we need to get out of here. I’ll send people down for the bodies.” Her voice was firm, but there was a softness behind it.

Darcy offered a weak smile, brushing a hand over Julien’s hair as they pulled away from the embrace. “Come on, let’s find a way out before this place collapses on us.”

As the others began to move towards a tunnel, Cinn lingered a moment longer. He glanced at Julien, who was still resting against him, head nestled into his shoulder.

“You ready?” he asked softly, his fingers curling into Julien’s.

Julien didn’t answer right away. He looked over at the mangled remains of his father, the shadows of the past that had haunted him for so long now reduced to blood and bones. His grip on Cinn tightened, but there was no tremor in his hand. He took a slow breath, then nodded.

“ Oui .” Julien whispered, his voice low but steady. “I’ve never been more ready.”

They stood, Cinn offering a shoulder for support. For a moment, they just stood there together, Julien leaning into him, both of them covered in blood and dust, but still standing. Together.

Cinn squeezed his hand. “Let’s get out of here.”

They followed the others, leaving the cavern and its darkness behind. And as they walked, hand in hand, Cinn couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, they’d finally found their way back to the light.