Fire cracked in the inky sky, a lone flame shrouded in the depths of darkness. The woods were still—so intensely still you could hear the crickets rubbing their legs together in a rhythmic cadence. The quiet wasn’t a comfort. It pressed in from all sides, stretching the space between you and him to an unbearable tautness.

He watched you. No, he studied you. The man—or rather, the titan who had torn you from the safety of your home in Marley—stared with unblinking, predatory focus.

You didn’t know why he had taken you. Perhaps it was for leverage, perhaps for some twisted amusement. Either way, you knew you were no mere hostage. You were a Tybur. The eldest child of Willy Tybur, no less—a symbol of Marley’s control, a key to its hidden power. With you in his grasp, he could pull the strings of your father and bend him into a puppet. And with that control, he could crack open the world beyond the Walls, silence its threats, and free his people from the burdens of history.

The firelight danced across his face in flickering shades of orange and gold, shifting the angles of his features like a mask shifting from man to monster. His eyes never wavered. Neither did yours—until they did.

Mistake.

The second you glanced at him, you knew you’d lost something intangible but vital.

He doesn’t need to say a word, you thought with growing dread. He already knows I’m afraid.

The silence fractured with the sound of his voice. Each word dropped like a stone into still water, “We’ll be visiting your father after tonight.” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, hands hanging loose but ready. Firelight caught the hint of a grin tugging at his lips—cruel in its restraint. “A little family reunion.”

“But don’t get too excited,” he added. “You’ll be staying with me until all this is over.”

The crickets kept chirping, oblivious. The fire crackled, embers rising like dying stars. But the only sound that mattered was the unspoken truth hanging heavy in the air.

You weren’t going home.