far wall was made of running water—a wide waterfall, lit by the orange and red sunlight beyond it, sparkling as it also reflected the contrasting aquamarine glow from within the cave. It fed into a small pool before her, filled with crystal clear water. A few hardy water plants swayed black in the shadows of its shallow depths. Along the right side of the pond, a raised stone path led through the water and around the waterfall—out into the open forest, she presumed.
It wasn’t a true cave, but a grotto, and an absolutely enchanting one at that. The ground under her feet was a crude mixture of sand and clay; it squelched when she took a hesitant step further.
“Good evening,” the voice came from behind her.
She whirled to face him and let out a breathy laugh. “I didn’t even see you there. And… evening?” She scratched an eyebrow. The reddening sunlight outside the waterfall deepened quickly now, as if taunting her for mistaking it as sunrise. “Is it nightfall already?”
“You slept through the day.”
The entire day. No wonder she felt so rested. Her joints were ache free for the first time in—she began counting in her head. It was the end of her third day in the forest. How was that possible? She would have to spend the rest of the night walking. If she was lucky, she’d reach Paimpont by morning, spend the day undergoing whatever Ophelia saw fit to do to her to remove her curse, sleep a few hours, then walk the next day and a half home. Despite all the setbacks, at least she’d made decent time; her entire last day would need to be dedicated to the journey back. She was fine with that, considering what she’d gain.
Or, what was at stake. What she could lose.
Hands in his pockets, Garin looked more boyish, somehow. He stuck the toe of his boot into the water, sending a small wave of ripples outward. “Are you well rested?”
“Yes, thank you.”
The moment seemed more private, somehow, and she felt like an outsider looking in. The odd spark of openness—of camaraderie—they had shared the evening before, was suddenly… not gone, but lackluster. She shifted awkwardly on her heels and turned away to instead admire the cavernous, rugged wonder surrounding them.
Lilac cleared her throat. “Is this part of the Mine?”
He shrugged without meeting her eyes. “That depends on who you ask. I dug it out a while ago. I used to come down here. To think.”
“Think?” Lilac blinked.
“Well, you’d have a lot to think about too, if you were alive for a hundred and ninety years,” he replied, a smile ghosting his lips.
“One hundred and ninety,” she breathed.
“If I remember correctly, I was born around the years the war began and turned the year or so before it ended—before the country’s involvement had ended, I mean. So,” he said, pretending to count on his fingers. “One hundred ninety-two, if I’m not mistaken. And counting.”
Unable to comprehend Garin’s life span of almost two centuries, she latched onto to something a little less incredible. “You dug the grotto out? This whole thing?”
She tried to picture the Darkling with a pickaxe, taking his anger at the world out on the poor limestone sediment. She couldn’t without laughing. Lilac bit her lip and swallowed the rising giggle.
“Ah, no. The cave is naturally occurring. I dug the tunnel leading to it.” He mimed scooping out rock with his hands while clicking his tongue against his teeth.
“Oh.” With his hands. Being reminded of both his immortality and his near indestructibility was sobering—and a little terrifying.
“Indeed. Being back is strange. I couldn’t sleep so I thought I’d come down here, revisit a past life or two.”
“What was it that you were expecting?” She spoke almost hopefully, but only responded with a solemn smile. He had shelled up overnight.
Garin didn’t reply.
She followed his forlorn gaze to the trickling wall of water beyond. The pond must have softened the harsh sunset, as the light did not affect him in the slightest. Instead, the rays cast an ethereal shade to his somber stare.
He was the picture of desperate beauty. Of a lifetime the forest had stolen from him and, in turn, repaid with darkness.
Lilac gulped, suddenly aware of her own heartbeat; that each moment passing was time with him, slipping away.
“Garin,” she began hesitantly.
“Not to fret, princess,” he interjected curtly without meeting her gaze. “I told you, I always keep my word. Thank you for helping me. You are free to