She fell to her knees by the side of his chair, his bloody hand still on her head. Her gaze fell to the small puddle under the chair, lit by both her and the spear it glowed a vibrant red.

His words and the eyes she turned from swam through her thoughts, bringing chaos to her thoughts that sent her radiance swimming once again. Bright ripples flowed across the still blood.

It was true if the Red had fallen on them, the mist’s monster been a bit less playful. They’d be dead, like one of the many faces Mensha had found in the dark. Yet she couldn’t stomach his calm resignation like their struggles were worth nothing. The thought dug deep and struck iron.

She’d struggled waded through blood up to her damned ankles and cried more in the past days that the year before. Maybe he could sit with calm reprieve but she refused. To see him stabbed and move on because apparently, near-death experiences were too generous if they didn’t leave you broken too.

“Mensha I love you but sometimes you can be an idiot.” She glared at his dreary eyes.

“I know,” he said calm as ever.

“No, you don’t,” she stood swept his hand off her and into hers. “You’re hurt and it’s somehow okay because we’re lucky to be alive,” her voice fell to a growl.

“But we are,” he offered with blatant confusion, his sincerity was all the more infuriating.

“Of course, we are, but that doesn’t mean there was nothing we could have done, we could have run into a building, backtracked, something!” she willed him to understand, yet uncertainty remained painted across his face. “Mensha,” her voice imported, “I know you believe we’re doomed to die eventually, and you only following me for love and the faintest hope your wrong.”

He froze but held her gaze.

“But if you want any chance for that you need to believe.” Her voice choked with emotion.

“I” her heart lurched as his voice teetered between foe calm and defeat, “I know,” he said his peace overturned with sullen tones. “But what am I supposed to do,” he raised and stared at her glowing hand, ”This magic, it’s a wonderful distraction but I can’t see a way out of here.” He slumped into the chair. “If we find these people if we live a year a decade what then, the world’s still over.”

She hunted for words to encourage him as he’d so often done for her. No appeal to spirit would spur the motivation she already knew to be crushed and logic wouldn’t help when he’d reasoned himself into apathy. She settled on lunacy, “Then fake it,” she stated.

“Fake it,” he chuckled, “really Summer,”

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

“Yeah,” she ignored his mirth, “If you can’t find anything, fake it until you can because if you try to the best of your abilities we will make it,” she stated her conviction, and like a grain of molten sand it fell into her veins. Built on the strength of resolve simmering in her veins and surged into her light. Heat kissed skin yet it was no effort to keep it from burning his hand.

He met her stare and winced, he turned and her light fell to its new brighter average. “You really believe that.” He whispered.

“Yes, and I’ll remind you as many times as it takes.”

He squeezed his hand and she glowed a happy light, “Thanks,”

“Always.”

“On that note, I have a few ideas.”

Summer shifted beneath the heavy blanket Mensha had smuggled her under and glanced as the man in question peaked out the building’s door. He glanced at her and she started to rise before he shook his head and she fell back into her crouch with a huff. She’d been here for ten minutes and her already low enthusiasm for this plan fell.

She was happy to see him take initiative it was just. He glanced at her and nodded. She jumped to her feet and raced out the door bat at the ready. Three shades strut down the road in front of her and she let the blanket slip free. They turned, but Summer was already swinging for the closest one’s head. They crumpled and Summer crushed her guilt as the other two recolored. Shock written in their faceless silhouettes. She pounced again, her bat folding the leg of another. “Run!” she commanded, hoping to avoid more pointless conflict.

They bolted, one shadow hopping as it chased after its fleeing comrade, neither glanced at the body by her feet. It soured the already bitter taste. She scanned the street and dropped to a knee to hoist the fallen shade on her shoulder. She hurried back to their very temporary camp. Mensha smiled at her, and waved, the motion hampered by the makeshift sling on his other arm.

He followed her inside staring at the unconscious or more likely dead shade. They walked to this house’s bathroom and Summer stared grimly at thin brown sheets folded in the stopped tub. “Was this really the best thing you could think of.” She asked with trepidation.

“Well, our most immediate goal is reaching that group,” She listened to the words hoping to find some comfort in the reiteration “Our most immediate obstacles are the shades and time.”

She sighed, “So considering those facts this was the most immediate solution.” She parroted.

“Yes, well no.” He pursed his lip, “The most immediate would have been the skittish ones but you vetoed that before we could test if they were physical.”

Summer stared at him, she was pretty sure she hadn’t been sleeping with a closet murderer the last few years. Then again he hadn’t exactly proposed to a night light. She sighed and climbed onto the tub’s lip, she held the body by its feet and let it dangle. Mensha slipped his knife out and with a look of mild distaste slit their throat. Black welled from the invisible wound and poured into the fabrics below, staining them like a creeping absence.

Summer stood and watched what felt far too much like an occult sacrifice, the fact Mensha tossed the fabric to stain it all rendering the tub a gaping maw from her angle didn’t help.

He pulled a thin sheet out and Summer shuddered as a pitch screen consumed him. He lowered the cloth a smile tugging on his cheeks and she released a relieved sigh. “That’s creepy,” she mumbled.

“The smile or the sheets?” He said his light tone was horribly opposed to their actions.

“Both,” she managed stepping down.

“Well, there’s one in there for you.”

She lowered the shade with as much respect as a defiler could and peered into the lightless void. Its edges slowly closed like a sighless eye. “Hurray,”