Chapter 138: Astrid Liora Vale

Astrid Liora Vale

I woke feeling steadier than I had the day before, some of the soreness in my muscles finally easing enough that lying in bed any longer felt more like punishment than recovery. Ivy was already curled up in her usual chair, and I noticed, not for the first time, the careful way everyone kept watching me, like a sudden movement might shatter something.

"I want to get up," I said, pushing the blankets aside.

"Astrid—"

"I’ve been lying here for two days," I said. "I want to walk. Just around the room, or maybe outside."

Xander appeared in the doorway, arms crossed, clearly having heard the tail end of my protest. "You want to negotiate your own recovery now?"

"I want to stand up without three people acting like I’m made of glass."

"You are made of glass," he said. "Very expensive, very important glass."

I threw a pillow at him, and he caught it easily, grinning in a way that made something in my chest ease slightly. Reed watched the exchange with less amusement, though eventually he agreed, on the condition that someone stayed close in case my legs decided otherwise.

Once I was steady enough on my feet, a thought settled into me that I couldn’t shake. "Where is she?" I asked Ivy. "Liora. Where did you bury her?"

Ivy’s expression softened. "We handled everything while you were unconscious," she said. "There’s a quiet spot, not far from here. We wanted somewhere peaceful."

"Can I see it?"

"Of course," Reed said, before Ivy could even answer.

The four of us walked together, slow enough to accommodate my still-recovering body, the late afternoon light stretching long shadows across the grounds. Nobody spoke much on the way, and I was grateful for that, grateful nobody tried to fill the silence with something meant to comfort me before I’d even had the chance to feel whatever I needed to feel.

The grave sat beneath a tree at the edge of a small clearing, simple and unmarked except for a smooth stone someone had placed there. I stood in front of it for a long moment, letting everything settle.

Liora had lived her entire life underground, surrounded by artificial light and stone ceilings, dreaming about a world she’d never been allowed to touch. Now she had a place here, in the open air, beneath actual sky, something she’d wanted more than anything and had gotten only once before it was taken from her.

"I’m sorry I wasn’t there," I said quietly, not caring that Reed, Xander, and Ivy stood close enough to hear every word. "I wasn’t awake. I didn’t get to say goodbye."

The wind moved gently through the leaves above us, and I let myself imagine, for just a moment, that she could somehow hear me.

"You saw the sky, Liora," I said. "You saw the stars. I know it wasn’t enough. I know you deserved so much more than a handful of seconds. But you saw it. I kept my promise."

My voice cracked on the last word, and Ivy’s hand found my shoulder, steady and warm.

I thought about everything Liora had asked me during those first conversations, questions about rain and clouds and oceans, her face lighting up every time I described something I’d never once considered remarkable. She’d spent her whole existence wanting nothing more than the world I’d taken completely for granted, and in the end, I’d been one of the only people who’d ever gotten to give it to her, even briefly.

"I want her to stay with me," I said, more to myself than anyone else. "Somehow."

"How?" Ivy asked gently.

I thought about it for a long moment, watching the light shift through the branches above her grave. "I’ll carry her name," I said finally. "Astrid Liora Vale."

Nobody laughed, and nobody questioned it. Reed’s expression carried something quiet and understanding, and Xander, for once, said nothing teasing at all, simply nodding like he understood exactly why it mattered.

We stayed a while longer before finally making our way back, the walk slower now, my energy starting to fade despite my earlier insistence that I felt fine. Xander noticed before I could hide it, immediately steering the conversation toward food.

"You need to eat something," he said. "You’ve barely touched anything since you woke up."

"I’m not hungry."

"You’re always hungry. This is concerning."

"I’ve had a difficult few days, Xander."

"Exactly why you need to eat," he said, entirely unbothered by my protests, already listing off things he was apparently going to bring me whether I wanted them or not.

Reed watched the exchange with the faintest hint of amusement, though his eyes kept drifting toward me with quiet concern he didn’t bother hiding. "You look exhausted," he said.

"I’m fine."

"You’re not," he said, "but you’re also stubborn enough that arguing about it won’t help."

"Everyone keeps treating me like a child," I muttered.

"You were unconscious for days," Xander said, "and now you’re already arguing with three separate people about your own wellbeing. Forgive us for being cautious."

I let myself smile despite the exhaustion pulling at me, something warm settling into my chest at the familiarity of it all, the bickering and teasing and quiet concern woven together in exactly the way I remembered from before everything happened. I’d missed this more than I’d realized while trapped underground, more than I’d let myself admit even to myself.

Once we made it back to my room, Ivy helped me settle into bed while Reed and Xander went to find whatever food Xander had promised to bring. Left alone for a moment, I reached for the small bag of belongings someone had recovered from Elaris, things I’d apparently had on me when we escaped, sorting through them idly.

Then I remembered the note.

Liora’s note, the one she’d pressed into my hands right before she’d injected herself, the words she’d wanted me to carry alongside the book about her people’s history. I searched through the bag more carefully, pulling out each item one at a time, setting them aside as I went.

Nothing.

I checked again, more frantically this time, dumping the entire contents onto the bed and sorting through everything twice over.

It wasn’t there.

My chest tightened painfully as I tried to remember the last time I’d actually held it, tracing back through the chaos of the escape, the fight, Liora’s final moments beneath the stars. Somewhere in all of that, in the fear and the running and the desperate scramble toward the portal, I must have lost it.

I sat there staring at the scattered belongings across my bed, understanding slowly settling in with a weight that made my throat close up all over again.

I had lost the last thing Liora had ever written to me.