The fire is easy to get going for Claire as Merlin and Valdus go around making tents. I hadn't asked where they'd gotten the large cloth tents or the poles to keep them high— I'd assumed it was magic.

We'd crossed the river only to find that the gateway was actually underneath it all; and we couldn't cross again to reach the war camp, it was too dangerous. No one bothered to ask Kilian to open a portal for us, there was always a catch. I still don't know what I owed him for his teleporting us out of the river— and at this moment I was too ashamed to ask.

I'd spent an hour pondering over how selfish and rash I had acted, feeling like a scolded child; and I wondered if he was in a better mood. He'd gone into his own tent, a seven foot tall, monstrous navy blue tent; spacious enough for multiple people to sleep in. I hadn't been able to even look that way yet, not with how I'd reacted and the silence of everyone.

But eventually I'd have to see him— eventually.

For now, I'd hunt.

"Claire." I say, rising from the log I'd been sitting on as she glances my way.

"Ever hunt a deer before?" I ask, eyeing her fire sparking from her delicate hands. She grins at me sheepishly, dusting herself off as she rises.

"Well, I've set one on fire by accident— but I don't think I'm any good at hunting them. They're like little babies, I would cry—" she starts to ramble on as Atticus steps out from the woods, he'd come from the direction of the river. I guess he was scouting if there were any other entrances or something.

"I can help." He says, tossing a knife gently in my direction. I move out of its way, furrowing my eyebrows at him.

"I don't need that to hunt. I've got this." I wiggle my hand in his sight, ice spreading throughout my palms in a light sheen of frost.

"Alright then." He nods in my direction as he moves to my side, giving a Claire a kiss on her head. Her blonde hair bobs as she bounces on the heels of her feet gleefully, clasping her hands together in excitement.

"My little sis going hunting with my—" she starts, but stops herself as she hears footsteps crunching through the snow in our direction.

Kilian.

"Viola," Kilian's blood red eyes are glowing as he towers over us in his black attire. His leathers were dry, but I couldn't say the same for my still drenched hair and cotton dress.

"Come." His lips are set in a straight line, but the light that shines in his eyes is enough to tell me that he isn't as upset as before. Still, I have a bitter taste on my tongue as I walk past the silence of everyone;Claire eyeing us with wide eyes.

"I'll see what I can find— I'll save some of the hunt for you." Atticus calls in my direction, I send a nod his was as he turns and disappears into the forest to look for our next meal.

"I still don't understand why he chooses to hunt— not when we can fill our stomachs using our abilities." Kilian mutters, glancing at me as I walk in synchronization with him. I give him a small smile, stiff but enough to show that I wanted to talk to him.

"It's more enjoyable when it's real." I answer him, shrugging as we reach his tent yards away from everyone else. The camp is picking up smoothly as I start to hear Valdus and Merlin bickering start up, and Claire hum a song to herself as she sits by the fire.

Kilian gestures for me to enter the tent first, gently putting his hand on the small of my back as he opens the tent flap.

I take in my surroundings as golden candlelight flickers around the inside of his tent. There's a mattress and a table with a couple books scattered around. I furrow my eyebrows as I look at the titles of the books and realize that they're all grimoires full of prophecies— not just ours.

How many prophecies have these people known in all of their years?

I glance back at Kilian with wonder as he grabs a box from the bedside table I'd overlooked when I came in. The smell of oak wood is strong and I'm tempted to take it all in; the calming scene, almost as if nothing had ever happened.

I close my eyes and inhale the scent softly.

For a moment I let myself believe that I was just camping with my dad, in a tent full of teen angst novels and eating barbecue chicken from the grill.

That he was wearing that stupid Grunge band T-shirt that he always wore whenever he thought he'd be grilling for the day, a lopsided smile on his cleanly shaven face.

He'd usually always been about business, but sometimes on rare occasions when we'd camp, he'd ease up and just be himself. My dad.

I never even knew that the prophecy was that bad of a deal— he made it seem like something I could stop by just practicing my powers; but now I see.

I see how much stress must've taken over him in the years coming— little things I'd never noticed before sprinkled in my memories, connecting ever so slightly.

How he'd stopped listening to his favorite songs, and started to gain a pound or two. His beard was starting to gain a touch of grey, but I'd assumed that was age.

Were those lines on his face not smile lines? Worried all the time.

I feel a touch on my shoulder, and suddenly I'm back in Kilian's tent, my eyes fluttering open to a concerned look on his handsome face.

"I asked if it hurts?" He says, furrowing his dark eyebrows as I blink.

"If it hurts—?" I repeat slowly, still lost on what he'd been saying; if he'd even said anything at all while I was lost in my thoughts.

"Your arm, it started gushing again. I'm going to stitch it." He says, placing his large hands on my hips and moves me towards his mattress. Memories cross my mind of the last time we were near a bed, and a horrid blush blooms across my face embarrassingly. If he noticed, he said nothing.

The bed is soft against my skin as I sit down on it, Kilian crouching down to my level as he eyes my still wounded arm. He clenches his jaw, holding in a wince as he touches my arm in a gentle feathery caress.

"He bit deep." He grunts as I nod quietly.

He gets to work on me, cleaning the affected area with alcohol and sewing me shut like a rag doll with his tools and medical instruments. I take the time to eye the silver polished items he carries in his medical bag, much more expensive looking than just a standard band aid kit.

"Were you a doctor in a past lifetime or something?" I smile as he glances up at me temporarily losing focus on my arm. We keep our eyes connected for a bit, but I clear my throat and look away; not being able to hold his stare.

"I wanted to be." He answers silently, the silken smoothness of his voice sounding through the tent.

"But that was a long time ago."

"Wait—really?" I say, surprised if anything. I take a moment to picture Kilian in a doctors coat, his large frame towering with a clipboard, red wicked eyes, and the mischievous smile that usually graced his features. Usually.

That wicked gleam in his eyes and mischievous smile weren't present on his face at the moment, he was deadly serious.

He focuses his attention back on my arm, gaining a wince from me as the needle punctures my flesh.

"I took courses on healing back then. I'd always wanted to help people with their suffering, and being a warrior myself I knew how to deal with bloodied bodies. It was a field I knew I'd be able to work with." He says quietly, eyes sad.

"But not long after I'd begun apprenticeship in a hospital on earth, my father caught wind of it. It was there one day, cobblestone roads and cherry blossom trees surrounding it; and then it was all gone." He swallows slightly, eyes flickering up at me for a second. I'm silent as I watch him work, listening to every drop of information he gives me on his past life. It doesn't occur to me that a demon wanted to heal those who'd been weakened— I didn't allow myself to make that mistake again.

This was Kilian.

This was my ally. Someone who'd been there for me from the start of this trip— even if we'd made a bunch of deals and he did his fair share of taunting. This was his dream, his passion, at some point in his dark life.

And he was sharing that small piece with me. A person who's only doubted his loyalty and headspace this entire time.

The guilt is heavy on my mind as I watch him carefully.

"He'd burned it down to the ground. Hundreds of people died, sick people. Men, women, children—" he pauses as he finishes stitching my arm, he cuts the material and grabs gauze from his bag. I bite my lip as he stops talking, and I realize that he's done his story; he's done sharing.

My voice is croaky as I cast my eyes downward, but I force myself to look at him in his eyes and clear my throat.

"I'm so sorry." I breathe out. He furrows his eyebrows in confusion as I bite my lip again.

"This entire time I've been such a stupid spoiled brat, I—" I start, reaching my hand out to touch the five o'clock shadow on his chin, in a caressing and comforting motion.

"It's been a rough couple of days." He interrupts me, still crouched down to my level as I stare at him, an unknown emotion blooming and swelling in my chest, wreaking havoc inside of me.

"It has." I swallow,smiling slightly at him as my eyes get foggy.

"But that's no excuse." I say slowly, fiddling with my fingers as I stare at him in fondness.

"I've been rough on you from the start but— once we arrived at the camp," I start to say as Kilian puts his strong arms on my thighs, holding onto my waist.

"Varla got into your mind and terrorized you with gossip about demons." His eyes lighten with humor as his lips flicker up in an amused smile.

"I know."

I sigh as I stare at him, wondering at what exact point did I convince myself that he was an evil demon obsessed with dooming me? Oh right, the prophecy.

He takes his hand and brushes a strand on my dark hair behind my ear with grace.

"What I'm trying to say is, I know what it's like to be you. To have lost what makes you happy in life, that cruelty, that selfishness that's possessing you right now— it's understandable." His eyes flicker down at my lips and he smiles.

"So if you feel like you need to lash out— do it. Whatever you think will make you feel better is something I'll understand. But just remember, you actually have a chance of bringing your father back." He clenches his jaw, a look of sadness crossing his eyes once again.

Darkness crosses his features and he reaches to grasp my hand cradling his face.

"In all of this— I've got you. You don't have to trust me— just remember these words," his eyes look deeply into mine as I feel relief at the boldness of his words, the complete promise in them. Promise for someone who didn't deserve it.

"I will always have you."

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