Where Soft Light Shines Darkness Fades From Tired Hearts by Evan Holt Crane 470
Third Person’s POV
She stared at Xander, her mind like a jammed ticker–tape machine–short–circuited and lagging.
Finished
The office fell into a graveyard silence. A full ten seconds passed before she let out a short, hollow laugh. It was a sound of pure disbelief. “That’s impossible. He was just…”
“The Ironthorn people haven’t left yet,” Xander interrupted her denial, his eyes filled with pity. “Do you want to go to the morgue? To see him one last time?”
Their eyes met for a heartbeat before Trista spun around.
She stood with her back to him, raking her hair back with both hands. Her gaze swept over the familiar furniture of her office, but she wasn’t seeing any of it.
She grabbed her bag and took a lung–busting breath. “Alpha Xander, I need a couple of days off.”
Trista didn’t say a word for the entire drive.
When she got home, she didn’t even greet Xander before heading straight into the yard.
Randolph and Ulva were busy pruning the garden. Seeing their daughter home early, Randolph set down a flowerpot in surprise. “Back so soon?”
Trista gripped her bag, her lashes trembling as she fought to suppress a total meltdown.
Ulva sensed something was wrong immediately. She pulled off her gardening gloves and reached out to take Trista’s hand, only to find it ice–cold and shaking violently.
“Trista, what happened?”
Trista looked at her parents. Her mouth moved, but no sound came out.
“What is it? If you don’t tell me, I’m calling Xander!” Randolph reached for his phone.
“Dad, I’m okay.” Trista stared at the dirt, her voice jagged and unstable. “It’s Cassian… he’s dead.”
Randolph and Ulva froze, their faces turning ghost–white.
They shook their heads in sync. “No. That boy-”
“His wolf gave out late last night. He was rushed to the clinic, but they couldn’t save him.”
Trista closed her eyes, repeating the facts like a robot. “He’s gone.”
Randolph turned away, his usually straight back sagging under the weight of a long, heavy sigh.
Tears welled up in Ulva’s eyes and began to spill over.
12:25 pm
Finished
Watching her parents‘ quiet grief, Trista didn’t know how to feel.
Despite the wreckage he’d left behind, the boy who had grown up in this yard, playing tag with her, was someone they had watched grow for twenty years.
Before the dreams of “mating” and “forever” had turned to ash, he had been their family.
Trista offered a few hollow words of comfort before heading to her room and locking the door.
By noon. Isaiah had reached the Silverlight estate.
Ulva was a wreck, telling him that Trista had locked herself away the moment she arrived and hadn’t touched a drop of water.
Attwater sat in the corner, struggling for a long time before he finally spoke in a low, gravelly voice. The other day… I saw him coughing up blood. He was in bad shape, but he apologized to me. He begged me not to tell her.”
Isaiah’s handsome features twisted into a dark, complicated smirk. He let out a low curse. “So Trista’s birthday is officially Cassian’s anniversary. The guy really knew how to pick a day.”
The living room fell silent. They looked at each other, the air heavy with the weight of it. Every breath ended in a sigh.
The idea that Trista’s “rebirth” at twenty–seven would forever be linked to the day Cassian’s life ended was a fate too heavy for anyone to carry.
Inside the room, Trista changed into a simple, elegant white dress and stood silently behind the door.
She listened to the muffled voices outside, her eyes downcast, hiding the storm inside.
The first time Cassian lied to her, he said he was on a business trip while he spent a month taking care of Samantha.
The second time he lied to her was on the night of the Lunar Festival.
On the night when a werewolf’s energy is at its peak, he was so weak his wolf soul was literally dissolving- yet he used every ounce of his stubborn pride to look her in the eye and tell her: “I’m fine.”
Trista turned the handle and opened the door.
Her face was eerily calm; her voice didn’t even have a tremor. “It’s too stuffy in here. I’m going for a walk.”
The group exchanged looks. They were worried sick, but no one moved to stop her.
At a moment like this, any words of comfort would be hollow. She needed to measure the depth of this aftershock alone.
As Trista walked out, Ulva nudged her son. “It’s cold out, Attwater. Get a coat and follow her.”
Isaiah grabbed a light blanket from the sofa and pulled Attwater along as they hurried after her.
213
12:25 pm
MM
Finished
L.A. in November was a silent portrait of early winter. The biting chill seeped into every breath, numbing
Trista’s senses.
Her eyes were slow, her reactions sluggish; even her gait felt mechanical.
She didn’t know how long she had been walking, but when she snapped out of it, she realized she was standing in front of the old Silverlight packhouse.
The yard was pristine and perfectly kept–a place Cassian had ordered his people to maintain even as his own soul was rotting away.
The swing in the yard had been repaired. The wood was freshly painted and gleaming, swaying slightly in the cold wind.
Trista stood at the gate, her vision blurring. For a split second, she thought she saw her younger self sitting here, waiting.
4.6K
4
Sara Lili
Sara Lili is a daring romance writer who turns icy landscapes into scenes of fiery passion. She loves crafting hot love stories while embracing the chill of Iceland’s breathtaking cold.