Mother of Midnight

Chapter 185 – Home Sweet Someone Else’s Home

Caelum and Grunhilda had been walking for days, their footsteps crunching against frost-covered dirt roads as the landscape stretched endlessly around them. There was little to talk about between them, and neither seemed to mind the silence. It gave Caelum time to think—though his thoughts circled in endless loops, unresolved and restless.

He was still figuring himself out. He didn’t think he was against battle. He would fight if needed. He would not falter when it mattered. But war—war felt wrong. A creeping, gnawing wrongness that he couldn’t put into words. He had seen too much, done too much, and yet it felt like none of it had meant anything.

“We’re nearly there,” Grunhilda’s voice broke through his thoughts.

He lifted his head, and there it was—his village. Nestled against rolling snow-dusted hills, it was a place he had known every inch of since childhood. A place he had once dreamed of returning to with his fiancée, of building a future. They were approaching one of the outer farms, its fields dusted in frost, the last remnants of the harvest long gathered.

A strange feeling settled in his chest, a mix of anticipation and unease. “Why did we come here?” he asked.

“So you can live a quiet life. Me too, hopefully,” Grunhilda replied.

Caelum frowned slightly. “What about your husband? Your children?”

She let out a short, dry laugh. “The man never put out. Said he couldn’t get it up for a woman stronger than him.” She scoffed, shaking her head. “He’s a drunkard and a gambler, too. Never loved the man. I’ll just say I’m a widow and make up some sob story.”

Caelum nodded, unsure what to say. He supposed there were worse fates. He, at least, had something to look forward to. Lorne. His home. A fresh start.

As they entered the village proper, though, something felt… off. It was winter, yes, and the streets were never as lively as in the warmer months, but even now, there should have been people about. Farmers repairing tools, children playing in the snow, neighbors chatting on their doorsteps. Instead, the roads were eerily empty, the houses shut tight against the cold.

Grunhilda made her way toward the inn, leaving him to his own path. His feet carried him down a familiar road, past homes he had known all his life. His home—his and Lorne’s—should be finished by now. It had been nearly done before he left for the war, and construction was meant to be completed by the time he returned.

It wasn’t far from his parents’ house, but he couldn’t face them. Not yet. Not after deserting. The shame of it sat heavy on his shoulders, a weight he wasn’t ready to bear.

Then, he saw it. His house. Smoke curled from the chimney, a warm glow flickered from the torchlight inside. A small, tentative smile tugged at his lips. He hadn’t let himself believe it, but—maybe Lorne had waited for him. Maybe there was still something left for him here.

He pushed open the door, stepping inside.

The air was thick with the scent of burning wood, dried herbs hanging from the rafters, and something distinctly lived-in. The kitchen had meats curing near the hearth, odd pieces of furniture scattered about—none of which had belonged to him. His eyes flicked to the other door, the one leading to the bedroom.

It was strange.

He had considered himself lucky to get a house with two rooms, but he had expected to come back to something untouched, something waiting for him.

Instead, it felt as though someone else had already settled in.

He placed his pack down by the door with a quiet thump and rolled his shoulders, exhaustion settling into his bones. It had been a long journey, and sleep was already clawing at him. But there was something else—a strange, restless energy curling in his gut.

Was Lorne out? The fire was still going strong, its embers casting flickering shadows across the walls. If she had left, she wouldn’t be gone long. A soft smile tugged at his lips despite himself. They’d be married within the next month or so, now that he was back. It was always the plan. Come home, settle down, live the life that had been laid out for him since birth.

With that thought, he made his way to the bedroom door.

Then he heard it—whispering. Muffled voices just beyond the wooden frame. He frowned, exhaling through his nose. Maybe she hadn’t heard him come in. He reached for the handle, sighing as he pushed the door open.

Two pairs of wide eyes stared back at him.

One more than he had expected.

Lorne was there, tangled in the sheets with another woman, their bare shoulders half-hidden beneath the covers. His breath caught in his throat, and heat rushed to his face. The stunned silence stretched unbearably before he managed to mumble something—an apology? He wasn’t even sure—and stepped back, shutting the door behind him with a quiet click.

His heart pounded in his ears as he grabbed his coat, throwing it back over his shoulders in one rushed motion. The walls of the house, once warm and welcoming, suddenly felt too tight, too suffocating. He needed air.

The front door swung open, and he stepped into the cold night, the chill biting against his skin as if to ground him in the moment.

What was that?

Why was his fiancée—not only in bed with another—but with another woman?

The clergy always said that the only divine pairing was a man and a woman, that their purpose was to breed, to create life, to uphold the natural order set forth by Praxus. That was why partners were chosen at birth. That was the correct way to live, wasn’t it?

Except… was it?

His mind raced, memories twisting and reshaping themselves in the wake of this revelation. The clergy had always treated the lekine with disdain, hadn’t they? Even the kind ones had looked down upon them. They didn’t like the sirens either, though he had only seen one in his life. And the sirens? They cared for humans just as little.

Praxus ensured all things in the world were in their right place.

But this—this was wrong.

Or maybe it wasn’t.

His stomach churned. Lorne wasn’t his soulmate. The realization hit him with a weight he hadn’t been prepared to carry. Gods, she wasn’t even remotely suited for him.

And yet, he couldn’t even find it in himself to be angry. He didn’t mind if she liked women. That wasn’t the problem. But she could have… chosen, right? To ignore those feelings? To do what was expected of her?

Just as he had done?

He’d felt attraction to both men and women, but he had always pushed aside the former, forced himself not to dwell on it. Because he was taught it was wrong.

But maybe—just maybe—Lorne couldn’t choose.

And maybe—just maybe—neither could he.

“Caelum!”

The sound of her voice cut through the cold night air, urgent and breathless. He stopped mid-stride, his body tensing as he turned to face her. Lorne was running after him, her plump face flushed with worry, her breaths coming in short, uneven puffs of mist. She had barely dressed for the weather—her coat hung loosely over her shoulders, her boots unlaced, as though she’d thrown everything on in a hurry.

“Lorne,” he murmured. His throat felt tight, and he could already feel the sting of tears welling in his eyes. He wasn’t even sure why. It wasn’t as if he was angry.

She slowed as she reached him, wrapping her arms around herself as if only now noticing the cold. “I—I wasn’t expecting you to be home so soon.” She swallowed hard, her voice shaking. “About what you saw…” She trailed off, her gaze darting to the ground.

What could she even say?

That she never loved him?

That much had always been obvious.

And yet, he didn’t blame her. Not then, not now. Even in the middle of his own spiraling crisis of faith, with everything he had been taught beginning to crack and crumble, he still couldn’t find it in himself to be angry with her.

Maybe that was why it hurt so much.

Caelum exhaled, watching the mist of his breath curl into the cold air. He wiped at his eyes before the tears could fall and forced himself to meet Lorne’s gaze. She looked miserable—small and uncertain, her hands twisting in the fabric of her coat.

“You don’t have to explain,” he said softly. “I understand.”

Her lip trembled. “Caelum, I—” She hesitated, shaking her head. “I never wanted to hurt you.”

“I know,” he murmured. And he did.

Silence stretched between them, filled only by the distant howl of the wind through empty streets. It was strange—this wasn’t anger, nor betrayal. This was just… confirmation of something he had always felt but never wanted to confront.

“I thought,” he said after a moment, voice hoarse, “that we were supposed to be right for each other.” He let out a dry, humorless chuckle. “The gods decided, didn’t they?”

Lorne flinched at that, her eyes flickering with something close to guilt. She opened her mouth, then closed it again, as if unsure of what to say. “I tried,” she whispered finally. “I really did. But I couldn’t. And neither could you.”

Caelum’s breath hitched. He wanted to argue—to say that he could have been what she needed, that he would have done whatever it took to make their marriage work. But the words felt empty even before they reached his tongue.

Because she was right.

Neither of them had ever belonged to the life that had been chosen for them. They had just been trying—fumbling, forcing themselves into a mold that had never truly fit.

He looked down at her, at the way she was hugging herself as though she could disappear into her own skin. “Are you happy?” he asked.

Lorne sucked in a sharp breath. Her eyes darted away, toward the house, where the faint glow of torchlight still flickered through the windows. “…Yes.”

The honesty of it settled in his chest like a stone.

Caelum nodded. That was all he needed to hear.

Caelum kept his gaze steady, though his chest felt tight. There was nothing left to say—no anger, no resentment. Just the quiet, painful understanding that the life he'd been meant to return to had never really been his at all.

“Then I won’t stand in your way,” he said, his voice quiet but firm.

Lorne turned to him sharply, her breath visible in the cold night air. “What do you mean?”

He took a step back, the frost beneath his boots cracking like brittle glass. “I’m not staying,” he said. “This… this was never really my home, was it?”

Lorne’s lips parted, but no words came.

Caelum swallowed hard. “I just want you to be happy, and if this is it, then all I need to do is step aside.”

Lorne blinked rapidly, her eyes searching his face as if trying to find some lingering trace of the boy she’d grown up with—the one she had been promised to, whether either of them had wanted it or not. Then her expression hardened, her gaze flickering toward the empty street, lowering her voice.

“You won’t tell anyone, will you?” she asked, worry creeping into her features.

Caelum let out a breathless, mirthless laugh. “Only if you don’t tell anyone I deserted.”

Lorne’s eyes widened. “You did what? Is that why you’re back so soon?”

He nodded slowly. His throat tightened at the thought of saying it aloud. Faeruhn’s name burned in his mind like a fresh wound.

“I saw things, Lorne. Horrible things that I don’t even want to speak of now.” He inhaled sharply, the cold air stinging his lungs. “Even my best friend is… is…” His voice faltered, and he clenched his jaw, forcing back the tears that threatened to fall.

Lorne watched him carefully, her expression shifting, concern taking root. She cast a glance toward the village, toward the dark windows and the chimneys that should have had smoke curling from them but didn’t.

“Where is everyone?” Caelum asked suddenly, his voice hoarse. “There are too many homes without smoke in their chimneys.”

Lorne’s expression darkened, and when she spoke, her voice was hushed. “The clergy has been taking people.”

Caelum felt his blood run cold. “Taking them where?”

Lorne shook her head. “Don’t know. They don’t return.”

His stomach twisted. “What?”

Lorne glanced around again, her movements tense, cautious. “We shouldn’t talk about this out here. Come inside.”

Caelum hesitated. Stepping back into that house felt wrong, foreign, like walking into someone else’s life. But Lorne’s face was serious—more serious than he had ever seen it. And if she was scared, then it meant this was something he couldn’t ignore.

He gave a slow nod, then hesitated as a thought struck him. The other woman.

There was another person in that house. A stranger. But despite himself, a part of him was curious. Who was she? The woman who had made Lorne’s eyes light up in a way they never had with him?

Maybe this was a conversation best had now.

Silently, he followed Lorne back into the house, shutting the door behind him.

Inside, the warmth of the house was a stark contrast to the bitter cold outside. The fire in the hearth crackled softly, casting flickering shadows across the walls. The scent of burning wood mingled with dried herbs hanging from the rafters—homey, comforting, but beneath it all, something in the air felt uneasy.

Lorne’s lover had pulled on a tunic and was seated at the small table, her hands wrapped around a steaming mug. Her dark eyes flicked up at Caelum’s entrance, cautious but not unkind. She had the look of a woman who had long since learned to keep her guard up.

“This is Briswen,” Lorne said, voice steady but carrying an edge of tension. “She’s been staying with me.”

Briswen gave Caelum a slow nod, her grip tightening on the mug. “So, you’re him.”

Caelum wasn’t sure what to say to that, so he just nodded.

An awkward silence stretched between them before Lorne cleared her throat. “We shouldn’t waste time. He needs to know what’s been happening.”

Briswen sighed and set her drink down. “It started about a month ago,” she said. “First, it was just the troublemakers. The ones who spoke out against the clergy, or had debts they couldn’t pay. People figured it was punishment.”

“But then,” Lorne added grimly, “it wasn’t just them anymore. The old, the sick, the ones without family. They started disappearing too.”

Caelum frowned, unease twisting in his gut. “Where are they taking them?”

Briswen exhaled sharply. “No one knows. The clergy won’t say, and anyone who asks too many questions is next.”

Caelum ran a hand through his hair, suddenly feeling like the walls were closing in. This was worse than he thought. He had come back hoping for some kind of peace, some kind of purpose—but instead, he had walked right into another nightmare.

“The war’s not going well for them,” he muttered. “That’s why they’re desperate.”

Lorne’s expression darkened. “You think they’re conscripting people?”

Caelum swallowed. It was worse than that. The army needed more than just soldiers. It needed bodies—workers, sacrifices, anything to keep the grinding wheel turning.

“They might not be coming back because they can’t

,” he said.Briswen grimaced. “I figured as much.”

A heavy silence fell. The fire popped in the hearth, filling the quiet.

Caelum exhaled, running a hand through his hair as he glanced between the two women. “Do you have anywhere safe to go?”

Briswen’s expression was unreadable. “This village is all we’ve ever known. I don’t have family elsewhere.”

Lorne lowered her gaze, her fingers twisting anxiously in her sleeves. “We were thinking of running, but it’s dangerous. If they catch us—” She stopped there, but the weight of the unspoken words was heavy between them.

Caelum nodded grimly. He knew what the clergy did to deserters. What they did to people who defied their laws. He didn’t need to ask what would happen if Lorne and Briswen were caught.

“Running where?” he asked.

Briswen hesitated. “I don’t know if we should tell him…”

Lorne shot her a look. “He’s a good man. If I was… interested in that way, I would’ve been happy. I think we can trust him.”

Caelum let out a sudden laugh—quiet but bitter. Briswen frowned, and Lorne’s brows furrowed.

“What?” Lorne asked.

He shook his head, rubbing at his eyes. “No, sorry. It’s just… I’ve spent so long thinking you hated me. I’m glad that isn’t the case.”

Lorne looked down again, biting her lip. “It was never about you, Caelum. I—” She glanced at Briswen, then back to him. “I tried. I really did.”

He softened. “I know.”

Lorne swallowed, then straightened, squaring her shoulders. “But… we are both women. Together.”

Caelum met her gaze steadily. “I don’t even know if I follow Praxus anymore,” he admitted. “I can’t excuse how his clergy treats nonhumans. I can’t stand that they force us into marriages that don’t work. Maybe Yenhr or Lyridia would be more suitable.”

Briswen’s lips twitched in something like amusement. “I think I like him,” she said, then immediately went red. “I mean—as a friend, of course.”

Lorne laughed, pressing a quick kiss to Briswen’s temple. “I know, love.”

Caelum smiled despite himself, but the moment didn’t last long. His expression turned serious as he glanced toward the shuttered window. “So, where are we running to?” he asked. “I was thinking across the border. The lekine have cities we could move to.”

The room fell silent.

Lorne and Briswen stared at him, their expressions unreadable.

“You would just drop everything and leave for a nation we are at war with?” Lorne asked finally, her voice incredulous.

Caelum met her gaze without flinching. “Would you rather stay here and wait to be taken?”

Lorne opened her mouth, then closed it.

Briswen crossed her arms. “You make it sound simple. It’s not just about running. The border is miles away, and even if we made it, what then? Do you think the lekine would just welcome us with open arms?”

Caelum exhaled through his nose. “I don’t know. Maybe. Maybe not. But I’d rather take my chances with them than stay in a place that wants me dead.” He gestured vaguely at the village beyond the walls. “The clergy is taking people. That means things are only going to get worse. I don’t want to wait around and see how bad it gets.”

Lorne’s hands curled into fists at her sides. “You really think leaving is the only way?”

“Yes.” Caelum didn’t hesitate. “If you have a better plan, I’m listening.”

She looked away.

Briswen sighed. “And if we go with you? You think you can keep us safe?”

He nodded. “I was a soldier. I know how to fight. I know how to track and hide. I don’t know what’s waiting for us out there, but I do know that we won’t survive here. Not like this.”

Lorne closed her eyes for a long moment, then exhaled slowly. “Damn it,” she muttered.

Caelum watched her carefully. “What is it?”

She opened her eyes and gave him a wry, tired smile. "I think I hate that you're right."

A breath of laughter escaped him. "Good. I have a friend staying at the inn. I'll see what she thinks. She used to be a huntress."

Briswen nodded. "Okay. I'm going if Lorne is. Do you think... do you think they will accept us?"

Caelum shrugged. "Maybe, maybe not. I think it will be better than here, anyway."

Briswen hesitated for a moment before looking down at the floor. "If we leave, I don't think we can come back... not with the clergy watching."

Lorne shifted in her seat, running a hand through her hair. "It’s not like we have much of a choice. If we stay, they'll take us, Caelum. They’ll take us, and we’ll be just like the others."

Caelum nodded. He felt the weight of their words, but still, a part of him couldn't help but feel the pull of the world outside, a life they could carve out somewhere else, somewhere safe.

“We’ll make it. If we stick together,” he said, with a determination that surprised even him.

Lorne met his gaze, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “Then this might be our only real chance to live free and with who we want.”

Caelum exhaled, feeling a weight lift from his chest. At least they had a plan, even if it was uncertain. “I’ll talk to my friend. We’ll figure it out. But, we need to move fast."

Briswen stood, brushing the dirt off her clothes. “Then let's go. The sooner we leave, the better.”

Caelum nodded, the fire in his heart burning brighter than before. They would leave. They had to.