Knot The One They Want

Lorali POV ~ More than three months ago

I didn’t expect death to be nothing more than a dark void. It feels as though I am sleeping, drifting endlessly in silence. I thought the afterlife would be a whole different world on its own, with systems and order, perhaps even peace. But I was wrong, just as I have been wrong about everything else. Death is cold. Death is dark. There is nothing here, and right now, that emptiness is all I want.

At last, I can be done with the pain. Done with the pack. Done with that stupid world that never gave me anything but suffering.

My friends will probably be sad about my death, they are the only people who ever truly cared about me. I’m sure Arabella will be bawling at my funeral, and I know I’ll have one. I’m in the hands of my friends, not those people who destroyed me. I couldn’t have chosen a better place to die. At least I know I won’t be buried in a ditch somewhere or left to decay. This is the only mercy the moon goddess has ever given me, after she killed me in her own way.

Thank you, I whisper into the void, for finally putting an end to my miserable existence.

Arabella Pov

"When is she going to wake up?" I ask, my arms crossed tightly against my chest. Lori has been out for almost a week now, and every day she seems to get worse. The whole house is worried about her. Most of us should have left by now, but none of us can travel or abandon Lorali in this condition. Never.

"Soon. Give it another day. Her wound is still healing," Ophelia says for the third time this week, sitting on the edge of Lorali’s bed as she carefully cleans the wound/bound on her shoulder. She burned it not long ago because the mark was already beginning to heal, and she couldn’t cut away more skin without killing Lori. So she opted to burn her with a hot iron plate. Even while Lori was being burned, she didn’t stir, not even once. I thought she’d wake up from the pain, but nothing, no sound, no movement, not even a whimper from the pain.

"That’s what you said last time," I murmur, crossing my arms tighter as I stare at Lori’s still face. My sister‑in‑law sighs. "Yeah, I was lying all those other times. I didn’t want to worry you or your friends with things you couldn’t control. But now I know for sure she’ll wake up soon. She can’t keep sleeping, no matter how badly she wants to."

Ophelia’s eyes linger on Lori’s resting face, her expression heavy. "How do you know this time will be any different?" I press. "I just do." She looks lost for a moment, her gaze drifting, before snapping back into focus and turning to me. "Oh, and I’ll warn you, she may be erratic when she wakes up. I think she didn’t want to be saved at all." I have nothing to say to that, cause deep down, I know Lori did not want to be saved. Silence fills the space between us as I hand Ophelia fresh bandages. She finishes wrapping Lori’s shoulder, then stands with a stretch. "Are you coming, or are you sleeping here again tonight?" she asks, tilting her head.

"I’m staying. I don’t want her waking up in the middle of the night all alone," I murmur.

She nods, picking up the first aid kit near me on the bed. "Cool. I know Kazair will be mopey the whole night," she laughs, and I follow suit. "He’ll definitely be in quite the mood," I add, chuckling lightly.

"Goodnight, Ella. Don’t let the bedbugs bite," she teases, leaving the room with a final wave before closing the door behind her.

I get up once to turn off the light, then lay down beside Lori. It reminds me of the nights we’d sleep in each other’s beds back at Alma. We spent more time in each other’s nests than our own. Lori always complained about the amount of weirdly shaped plushies I kept on my bed. I made most of them myself and gifted her a bunch, but somehow they always ended up back on my bed, overflowing until they nearly covered the mattress. Most of them were abstract and odd shapes that ate up too much space on my nest, so each time we were on my bed would have little to no space.

I remember how many times we went back and forth about the plushies overrunning our room, how she insisted I had to decrease them. But we never did. Maybe she never pressed the matter because of me, or maybe because she secretly liked them too. I don’t know. All I know is that I want her back. I want Lorali Alma back.

"Goodnight, Lorali," I whisper, before letting sleep finally take me.

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The next early morning

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My eyes slowly flutter open, and panic instantly surges through me the moment I see the light pouring in through the curtains landing on nothing but empty sheets. Lorali is supposed to be there, but she’s not.

"What the—" I shoot up from the bed, sitting straight, my body tense and disoriented. My heart pounds as I prepare to jump off the mattress, but then I catch sight of her.

Lorali’s back is turned to me, draped in a white nightgown, her figure framed by the glow of morning light as she stands before the large vanity at the edge of the room. Relief and joy wash over me in a wave so strong it nearly knocks me back down. She’s awake. She’s finally awake.

"Lor—" I begin, my voice breaking with emotion.

"What have you done?" she interrupts, turning toward me. Her eyes meet mine, and they are tired, lost, and sad all at once. The sight of them steals the breath from my throat, freezing me in place.