Silence pressed down, oppressive and heavy, broken only by the fire’s steady crackle and Clover’s soft breaths.

Fatigue clung to me like chains, my eyelids drooping against my will. Each time they closed and I began to drift to sleep, the images began.

Gregory, chained and desperately struggling to reach Sara, while his party–his friends–forced him to stay in that hell. And Sara…

A fist squeezed around my lungs. Images of bright eyes and wide, gap-toothed smiles dug into my chest like a dagger.

Beatrice would take it the worst when I got back to Dawncrest to deliver the news. She and Sara, closest in age, were always causing trouble for Gregory and I to dig them out of.

I pressed my palms hard into my eyes, as if that would force the memories away. We had two more floors to clear and no idea what awaited us. The last thing Clover needed was me falling apart from grief.

Yes, because going into battle sleep-deprived is so much better.

I hated that scathing inner voice, but never more so than when it was right. But what solution was there? I’d drifted to sleep a half dozen times, staring into the fire’s dancing light, only to jolt awake, heart pounding and stomach rolling from the images that assaulted me.

A headache built behind my eyes from the constant adrenaline, and the day’s exertions were catching up in the form of sore muscles. I’d be nothing but a liability in a fight if I couldn’t rest. Hopelessness welled up and I stomped it down, fighting the frustration that followed. That would only make sleep harder, and I already had enough hurdles to cross.

The monsters were getting harder, and the boss would doubtlessly be a brutal fight. Clover would need me, and I wasn’t about to let her down.

Even if it meant forcing myself out of nightmare-soaked dreams a dozen more times tonight.

Leaning back against my pack, I shut my eyes and tried to sleep. Exhaustion came easily, darkness following as my senses dulled…

Only for imagined screams and Gregory’s body to paint vivid pictures behind my eyelids seconds later. The noise echoed, reverberating through my skull like a sick bell. Snapping my eyes open, I fisted a hand in my hair and tugged hard, using the sharp pain to center myself in the present.

This time, the screams didn’t abate. Instead of fading, the picture of Gregory’s corpse sharpened, drawing forward more details. I tugged at my hair again, raking fingers through it and pulling out strands.

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

I needed to get it together, I–.

A hand, small and warm, gently caught mine. I jolted, swallowing down the urge to lurch away as Clover settled next to me, her face a mask of sympathy. She didn’t say anything and her stare boring through me until I looked away.

“You shouldn’t be awake. I wouldn’t be if I had a say in it,” I said, each word coming out rough and gravely thanks to how painfully tight my throat felt. From the corner of my eye, she shook her head and gently pulled my hand into her lap.

“I can’t sleep knowing you’re struggling. If I’m going to lay there awake anyway, I might as well be up and keeping you company.” She wiggled her fingers and twined them with mine, her thumb drawing circles over the back of my hand.

The touch was steady and sure, offering an anchor through the storm. I sank into it, reveling in the brief respite even as I tried to argue. “I appreciate it, but we can’t afford for both of us to be exhausted tomorrow. We both used a lot of energy today, and it won’t be easier going forward.”

She tipped her head, acknowledging that. “That’s true, but going deeper when you’re not running at one hundred percent is asking for trouble anyway. I set out to have the herb within the week and we’re still ahead of schedule for that. If it’s necessary, we can rest another day.”

Frustration tore through the previous peace and I took my hand back with a grimace. “There’s no guarantee I’ll sleep then either. Anytime I close my eyes, all I can see is them.”

A lump tightened at the back of my throat and I breathed through it. “We can’t afford to wait until I’ve dealt with this.”

Clover slid to sit in front of me, bending forward to force me to meet her gaze again. “Grief isn’t something you can force your way through, Darling. You’ll destroy yourself trying.”

This time when she took my hand, I let her keep it. The comfort it brought was like a balm to a fresh burn, and I didn’t have the will power to push it away twice. Meeting her eyes, the clear blue orbs intent on me and dark with concern, I asked, “Then how do I get to sleep?”

If she had some kind of spell or potion, I would take it in a heartbeat.

She considered me for a long moment before finally straightening. “Well, a distraction isn’t a bad idea. What do you usually do back in Dawncrest when you can’t sleep?”

Images of Daedra and Beatrice’s pleading eyes hit, dragging a tired laugh from my lungs. “I don’t often have problems sleeping, but I have been woken up at late hours to braid the girls’ hair when they couldn’t sleep.”

Her lips quirked, warmth flooding her expression. “Why doesn’t it surprise me that you know how to braid hair? Let me guess, you learned for them?”

My good mood soured slightly, memories of hair the same moonlit white as my own forcing their way to the surface. “No, I learned from my mother.” The words slipped out without my permission, and old pain rose, seeping through the cracks to burn through my veins anew.

No matter how long that passed, how many years marched on, thinking of her still stung like needles shoved under my skin.

Clover hesitated, uncertainty clear. “Is she…”

I scoffed and shook my head. “Dead? Possibly, but who knows? Certainly not me.”

No, I’d seen neither hide nor hair of her since I was five winters old. When she’d left our shabby little house, head held high and jaw firm, without sparing a single glance back despite my pleas for her to explain.

Clover frowned. “That’s a sensitive topic, isn’t it?”

She had no idea…