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Hey currently suffering from writer's block so I just thought I would give you a little something I cooked up
This takes place after sunny first leaves for the castle
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**"What's up with that doofus?"**
Effie didn't say it out loud—yet—but the thought was already front and center as she watched girly-boy implode like a dying star. One second, it was all silent tension, tight jaws and too-long stares… and then boom. He went full drama-queen, tore into his own crew like they'd forgotten his birthday, declared himself "the boss," and vanished into the dark like a moody ghost with somewhere better to be.
Real subtle.
Not that she blamed them. A month in the Forgotten Shore was enough to twist anyone up. But she hadn't exactly had her bets on *him* being the one to crack first.
One minute he was brooding like it was a full-time job. The next? Snap. Full emotional purge, scorched-earth style. Theatrics and all.
Dramatic *and* rude. Hell of a combo.
She side-eyed the girls he left behind. Yeah. They were a mess. Expected, really. Anyone would be after surviving that place. But she wasn't about to play group therapist.
"I'll go after him," Caster said—calm, crisp, like he thought he was giving orders to a palace guard instead of standing ankle-deep in nightmare country. "If you could look after these ladies."
Effie raised a brow. Not her circus, not her clowns… but fine. He had that prim, got-it-handled air, and she doubted he'd get himself killed. Too careful for that. Or too arrogant.
Either way, she let him go.
And now she was stuck babysitting three rookies with the emotional stability of wet cardboard. Great. Just *great*. She hadn't even eaten yet.
The camp she'd set up was decent enough—for now. She'd picked it carefully: cover on three sides, narrow chokepoints, and nothing big enough to wedge in uninvited. But safety in the Dark City was like a soap bubble—floaty, pretty, and one wrong breath from popping.
"Ugh, finally he left," the brunette muttered, low but not low enough.
Effie's ears twitched. Rookie mistake. Whispering around someone with enhanced hearing? Amateur hour.
"Ooooh?" she said, sliding back into view. "What, is he a creep or something?" Her tone was breezy, unserious—just enough to poke without drawing blood. These girls were about three snide comments from eating each other alive, and Effie wasn't planning on cleaning up the mess.
"Yeah!" the brunette—Alice—snapped, too quick, too eager. Her voice had that brittle edge, like glass already cracked and waiting for a reason to shatter. "He *is* a creep. Always staring, always quiet. You know the type. The kind that pretends he's above it all, but really he's just watching—waiting. Like he's collecting people in his head. Dolls, maybe."
Cassie flinched. "That's not true."
Alice turned to her with a smile that didn't touch her eyes. "Oh honey, of course you'd say that."
Cassie's voice stayed soft, but there was a tremble under it. "You don't know him."
"I know his type," Alice snapped. "That fake quiet. That wounded, oh-so-mysterious act. The way he stares without staring. Doesn't talk unless someone pries him open. Like he's waiting for a girl to 'fix' him with hugs and handjobs."
Stop," Cassie said.
Alice ignored her, voice growing louder. "He clung to you like a leech the second you picked me up. Always hovering nearby. Oh, and those little moments—'Cassie, you okay?' 'Cassie, stay close.' Spare me. That wasn't care, babe, that was him sniffing around the most accessible girl in the group."
Cassie's face flushed. She couldn't meet anyone's eyes. "He never touched me."
"Not yet," Alice said. "But he was waiting. They always wait. You think it's sweet when a guy watches you sleep, don't you? Bet you thought it was romantic the way he never looked too long—like he was respecting you. Nah. He was imagining what you look like naked and patting himself on the back for not saying it out loud."
Cassie shook her head, helpless. "You're twisting things."
Alice's voice cracked like a whip. "You wanted it."
Cassie's breath hitched.
"You liked the way he looked at you. You liked the way he spoke low, like his voice was just for you. Don't lie," Alice sneered. "You felt pretty. Even with the eyes. Especially because of the eyes. He made you feel wanted, didn't he? All porcelain and helpless. You loved being his little blind fantasy."
Cassie's hands were trembling now. "That's not true."
"Oh yeah?" Alice stepped closer, tone biting. "Then why were you always hanging off him like some lost kitten? Sitting close. Laughing at his non-jokes. Walking next to him like you were tethered. You think he loved your soul? Or was he just the first man who didn't flinch when you bumped into him in the dark?"
Cassie rose to her feet. Her face was pale, but there was a flush of anger on her neck.
Alice's voice dropped lower, quieter, but more vicious for it. "Guys like him don't want love. They want a hole they can cry into while pretending it means something. And you—you wanted to matter. You thought he could save you. That he saw you. But all he saw was a soft, easy body and a pretty little disability kink he could jerk off to without guilt."
"Shut.up. You don't know sunny, not like I , like we do!" Cassie said, restrained clear in her voice.
Alice turned, eyes flashing like broken neon. "Oh please. You'd defend him no matter what. He could push you off a cliff and you'd thank him for the ride."
Cassie's jaw tightened. "He saved our lives."
"Oh yeah? Was that before or *after* he kidnapped my *best friend*?" Alice's voice spiked, sharp and accusing. "Puffy's not just some monster to *leash*. But he didn't care. Just used him to yank my chain, like I was some rabid mutt that needed a collar."
She stepped closer, her voice dropping to something slower, nastier. "And you. You think you're *special* to him, don't you? Like he sees you—really sees you. But guess what, sweetheart? He doesn't. You're just a pretty little porcelain doll to him. Blind and delicate. Exsotic*. That's it. That's all he sees."
She laughed then, low and mean. "You really think a guy like that cares about who you are? No, no, no. He's got a type, Cassie. Pale, pretty, fragile. The kind of girl who looks like she'd break if you breathed too hard. That tragic little waif act? It's catnip for creeps. And you—oh, you're just perfect. That skin, like it's never seen the sun. That soft, floaty voice. The way you tilt your head when you're listening, all delicate and dreamy. It's practically a fetish."
Cassie's hands trembled at her sides. "You're wrong."
"Oh, am I?" Alice sneered. "Tell me, Cassie. What do you think he likes about you? Your *soul*? Your tragic backstory? Don't be stupid. It's your body. The way you move like you're made of glass. The way your lips part when you're thinking. The helplessness. That's what gets him off. Guys like him don't fall for people—they collect them. You're a toy. A prop. Something to worship and control all at once."
Effie opened her mouth, then closed it. Even she hadn't expected *this* level of venom.
"And don't act like you hate it," Alice added, voice syrupy and low. "Part of you *wants* it, doesn't it? To be wanted, even if it's for all the wrong reasons. To feel like someone's looking at you and *burning*. Because otherwise, what are you even here for? You don't fight. You don't lead. You're just… *pretty*. And maybe that's all you want to be."
Cassie took a breath. Shaky. "That's not fair. You don't know what he—"
"I *do* know," Alice snapped. "Because I've been that girl. I've *lived* in that trap. Thinking someone gives a damn, when all they want is the version of you that fits their fantasy. And when it cracks? When you stop being their perfect little puppet? They toss you out. Like trash."
Her voice was trembling now, and there was a wild gleam in her eyes.
Cassie slapped her.
It wasn't hard, but it cracked through the cave like thunder.
"You want to know why I hate him? Why I can't breathe when he's around? It's not just Puffy. It's because he *took* something from me. Took control, took trust, took *everything*. I loved Puffy, and that bastard ripped him away like it was nothing. Just a move on the board. Just leverage."
She swiped a tear angrily off her cheek.
"So yeah. Maybe I'm mean. Maybe I'm bitter. But at least I'm not lying to myself about who he is. You can keep worshipping your silent knight. Just don't come crying when the cracks finally show."
Silence fell like ash.
Effie cleared her throat, loud. "Alright," she muttered, tone flat. "That's enough emotional purging for one night ."
She stretched, cracking her neck. "Out here, throwing tantrums is like ringing a dinner bell. You don't want to know what's hungry."
That shut them up.
Close enough to calm, she gave them the basics. Don't yell. Don't mope too loud. Don't assume the shadows aren't watching just because they haven't moved yet.
Names slipped out in the process—Nephis, Cassie, Alice. And the ghost boy?
*Sunless.* Seriously?
Effie leaned against a cracked pillar and exhaled through her nose.
"Figures," she muttered. "Guy looks like he's one rainstorm away from writing sad poetry on a rooftop."
She shook her head, amused and irritated in equal measure.
"Alright, rookies. Welcome to hell. Try not to die before breakfast."
'*'
Alice didn't sleep.
Not even close.
She sat just outside the flickering range of the camp's weak fire, knees drawn up to her chest, arms tight around them like she was holding herself in place. Her nails dug into her skin through the fabric. She looked like a sulking brat from the outside, probably—but her insides felt more like broken glass in a blender.
The others were quiet—too quiet. That aftershock silence. The kind of quiet that sits heavy, like the moment after a slap. Like blood waiting to drip. No one was saying anything. Not about the fight, not about her. But she could feel it. The tension, the way no one would meet her eyes. Like she'd coughed rot into the air and now everyone was holding their breath.
Her throat still burned from screaming. Her voice had cracked halfway through the tirade, but she'd powered through it like an idiot with something to prove. Now it felt like sandpaper and regret.
Why had she gone that far?
Why had she said that?
She'd wanted to hurt something. Someone. Everyone. Cassie was just—there. Too perfect. Too untouchable. With that whole ghost-princess aesthetic: skin like marble, hair like a fairy-tale, voice like a lullaby. Even her blindness made people soft around her. Sunless looked at her like she was a glass relic. Like he could worship her from afar and still feel righteous about it.
Alice hated it.
Because he never looked at her like that.
He barely looked at her at all, except when he was annoyed. Or suspicious. Or treating her like a wild animal he had to keep on a leash. Which was fair, maybe. She was wild. She wore it on purpose. Bright clothes, loud mouth, bare skin, big grin. All distraction. All noise. Because if you were loud enough, flashy enough, fun enough… maybe people wouldn't notice you were breaking inside.
But Sunless saw through it. Not in a sweet, "I see the real you" way. More like, "I see the risk." And maybe that stung more.
And then there was Cassie.
Cassie, who didn't even try. Who just was. Gentle. Soft-spoken. Porcelain and tragedy in a pretty dress. She didn't need to beg for attention. She got it for free. She got him for free. And Alice—Alice, who'd been loud and fierce and fun, got left behind like a fire hazard.
So she snapped.
So she said it. All of it. The perv jabs, the 'he just wants your body' venom, the cruel little things meant to stick under Cassie's skin. Not because she believed them. Not even really. But because Cassie needed to hurt, too. Because it wasn't fair that she could look like that and be like that and still believe in someone like Sunless.
Because she didn't know what it was like to be looked at the way Alice was looked at. Like an easy mark. Like a freak. Like a slut. She didn't know what it was like to be loved wrong, until it rotted something inside you.
And maybe… maybe Alice had wanted her to know.
Because Puffy had been hers. The only one who'd ever picked her without second-guessing. The only one who hadn't needed her to shrink down to something safe. He was weird, monstrous, wonderful—and he saw her. And Sunless had taken him. Just—snatched him like he was a prop. A pawn. A pressure point. And now everyone was supposed to treat him like some tragic antihero?
No. Fuck that.
She hated him.
But she hated herself more.
Because Cassie hadn't deserved it. Not really. She was just a girl trying to survive, trying to be kind in a world that ate kindness alive. And Alice had clawed her open because it was easier than admitting what she really felt: small. Unwanted. Replaceable.
What if the problem wasn't Sunless?
What if it was her?
She pressed her palms against her eyes so hard it hurt. No crying. Not again. Not here. Not in front of them. She'd already shown too many cracks.
The shadows around the camp flickered, deepened, whispered. She didn't flinch. Let them come. Let them try. Monsters didn't scare her.
She knew exactly how monsters thought.
Some lived in the dark.
Some lived in her skin.
And some wore the face of a girl who smiled too wide and never shut up, because if she did, she might start screaming and never stop
'*'
Cassie sat by the fire, her knees pulled up to her chest, her arms wrapped tightly around them, trying to hold herself together as the weight of Alice's words pressed down on her. The others were quiet, too quiet. A kind of silence that felt like it was settling in her bones, heavy and suffocating. It was the aftermath of a storm, and she could feel the remnants of it—the sting of her own anger, the hurt she hadn't known would come, and the confusion.
Her throat was sore, raw from holding back the tears she didn't want to shed. Alice's words echoed in her mind, sharper than any blade. *"He's after your body…"*
The sting of those words burned deep. Was that really how Alice saw things? Cassie tried to tell herself it wasn't true, that it was just Alice's anger getting the better of her, but the doubt settled in like a shadow that wouldn't go away. *Was that what Sunless saw in her?* Her mind couldn't stop turning over the idea, that maybe, just maybe, she was nothing more than an exotic, fragile thing to him. A curiosity. Something to be used, then discarded.
But she couldn't shake the feelings she had for him. The crush, the longing that had been building ever since they started this journey together. She was drawn to him—how couldn't she be? He was quiet, a mystery wrapped in layers of caution and calculation. He didn't see her as broken. Not the way others did. Not even the way she saw herself sometimes. He was distant, yes, but there were moments—fleeting moments—where his gaze lingered just a little longer, where his touch, even if accidental, was a touch that didn't make her feel like a fragile, delicate thing.
She let out a shaky breath, her heart pounding harder in her chest. Why was it so complicated? Why couldn't it just be simple? Cassie wanted to believe that Sunless wasn't like the others. She wanted to believe he saw her as more than just the blind girl, more than just the girl with soft skin and a gentle nature. But the more she thought about it, the more uncertain she became.
Alice's accusations clung to her, making her stomach twist with unease. Did Sunless really only want her for her body? Or was there something more? She wanted to believe there was, but that nagging doubt wouldn't leave. Was she just another conquest for him? Something pretty to look at until it became too much, too complicated?
Her thoughts turned back to Sunless—she couldn't help it. It was hard not to, with the way her chest ached whenever she thought of him. She'd never told anyone. She didn't even think he knew. But the way he was with her, the way he treated her—like she was more than just a girl to be coddled or shielded from the world—made her feel *seen*. He never treated her like an object, even though she sometimes feared that was all she was.
But what if Alice was right? What if all of this—her closeness to Sunless, the moments they shared, the fleeting smiles—was all just some kind of illusion? What if it was just her wishful thinking?
Cassie sighed, running a hand through her pale hair, frustration building inside her. She didn't know what to believe anymore. She wanted so badly to believe that Sunless saw her for who she was, not for what her blindness made her. But then Alice had thrown those words, and now she couldn't unhear them.
She wasn't used to feeling like this. To *wanting* someone. Not like this. It felt... messy. Confusing.
But she couldn't stop feeling it, no matter how much she tried to push it down. Her crush on him was real, undeniable, and it made everything harder. She wanted to be close to him, to know him better, to see if what she felt was reciprocated. But what if it wasn't? What if she was just another thing in his life that he would use and discard, like Alice had said?
Cassie shook her head, trying to push the thoughts away. She couldn't let them consume her. She had to keep moving forward. But part of her—a large part—was terrified of what would happen if she did. What would happen if Sunless didn't feel the same way? What would that mean for them? For her?
A quiet sigh escaped her lips as she stared into the flames. No answers. No solutions. Just more questions. She didn't know what to do with any of this. She only knew one thing for sure: she couldn't keep hiding from it.
The feelings weren't going away. And neither was he.