We lay there in pure bliss. My head rested on his chest, and I listened to his steady breathing, feeling content. I started to trace idle patterns on his bare skin absentmindedly. He reached over to grab his phone from the nightstand to check his messages. That’s when I caught a glimpse of his tattoo on the back of his left shoulder. I was always intrigued by it—a long skinny dagger with a sun and a moon. The sun was behind the hilt, with sharp rays extending outward. The crescent moon looked like it was stabbed by the dagger. I always wanted to ask him about it. I definitely had the urge to sketch it, too. He put his phone back and put his arm around me and I snuggled back on his chest.

“So... how was work?” I asked softly, looking up at him. His eyes slid toward me, and he grinned.

“Ah, the princess wishes to know how us peasants labour to keep the kingdom of Averon thriving?”

I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling, but my lips betrayed me. “Spare me the theatrics, Carter. You make it sound like you’re out there tilling the fields.”

Carter chuckled, leaning in to kiss my forehead as I rested my chin on his chest. “Hey, managing art supplies is serious business. You have no idea how many paintbrushes I’ve saved from a tragic end.”

I groaned, burying my face against his chest. “My hero,” I said sarcastically.

He pretended not to hear and launched into his nerdy rant. “Indeed,” he said, puffing out his chest with exaggerated pride. “While the fair red-headed princess of Averon City enjoys her days of leisure—no work, just endless coffee and notebooks—I, Sir Carter Dawson... which, not gonna lie, that title sounds amazing... labour under the weight of a cruel and unforgiving register, and a manager named Milton.”

I snorted and smiled. Carter was a bit of a nerd—he watched more fantasy and supernatural movies than I could keep up with. The first one we watched together was a vampire romance. I thought it was a love story. He thought it was just a horror movie.

I leaned on his chest, my face resting in my palm. “Right, because college is such a breeze. No stress at all. Just me lounging in my royal tower without a care in the world.”

He let out a dramatic sigh, his voice dripping with mock seriousness. “Alas, I’ll never know the freedom of a royal education. If only I had such noble privileges, I could stroll through the halls of academia, free from the burden of earning my keep.”

I poked his side, laughing. “You know I’m under scholarship and can’t work. Besides, you’d be bored out of your mind without your little art-store escapades.”

“Ah, but boredom is the price we pay for a life of ease,” he said, turning to give me one of those serious, dramatic looks that always made me crack up. He placed his palm dramatically on my face. “But worry not, my love. I shall gladly bear the mantle of peasantry so you may live as the princess you were born to be.”

I giggled, shaking my head free of his grasp. “You goofy ass.”

“And you love it,” he grinned, leaning in to kiss my lips.

He wasn’t wrong. He always made me laugh with his ridiculous antics. “Yeah, I do,” I admitted with a smile.

He sighed contentedly and wrapped his arm around me again before actually answering my question. “Work was the same as always. You know how it goes—artsy types come in, grab their supplies, and get out.”

He kissed the top of my head, his chest vibrating with a quiet chuckle.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I raised an eyebrow, catching his playful grin.

“You’re one of them, aren’t you? Came in, grabbed your stuff, and vanished. Haven’t seen any of your sketches since,” he teased lightly, though I could hear the genuine curiosity beneath his words.

I felt my cheeks flush. My sketchbook was something I wasn’t ready to share—not even with Iah or Val, and they knew everything about me.

“Oh, the idea didn’t work out, Carter. I’m not as good as you think,” I lied, hoping he’d let it drop.

He glanced down at me, his expression softening. “I don’t buy that. I am sure you are good. Besides, it doesn’t have to be perfect. Maybe I could take a look sometime? No pressure, just...” He trailed off, waiting but not pushing.

My chest tightened with nerves. I needed to change the subject—fast. Shifting closer, I leaned into him with a smile. “I’ve barely had time to breathe, let alone draw. The lecturers are killing us with assignments. Honestly, though, I’d rather focus on this right now,” I said, pressing my lips against his, distracting him with kisses. He groaned, the tension breaking, and I knew the topic had been successfully avoided—for now.

I was in the void again. Its stillness always sent a shiver down my spine. I didn’t want to be here—especially not again. I was just getting over the last one. Two dreams in one night was not a good sign. As always, I waited in the inky darkness, bracing myself for whatever was coming. Then I saw it, and my breath caught: the same image again, but this time, it wasn’t etched on skin or hidden in shadows. Carter’s tattoo blazed white in front of me. The sharp rays of the sun, the dagger, and the crescent moon stabbed through its centre.

It pulsed with a blinding white light, flashing over and over, and I had to shield my eyes, but it didn’t help. The brightness pierced through my hands. And then, just as quickly, the burst star exploded into my vision. 

I jolted awake, eyes snapping open, my heart racing. I glanced around, disoriented. Carter’s side of the bed was empty. When I looked up, I spotted him standing by my desk. He was half-dressed, his jeans back on, but still shirtless. His phone’s screen glowed in the dim light, the likely source of the brightness from my dream.

As I focused more on where he stood, a sense of unease crept over me. Why was he there? My gaze flicked to the drawer where I kept my sketchbook—it was still shut. I exhaled in relief.

“Carter?” I called softly, still feeling unsettled. “What’s up?” I yawned, my voice groggy. “What time is it?”

He looked over, startled. “Ah, sorry I woke you. My group chat was going nuts over a trailer launch,” he said, walking over and leaning down to kiss me. “I didn’t want the light to wake you, so I moved out of bed.”

I smiled. “Aw, that’s so thoughtful.” I kissed him back, and he pulled away slightly.

“It’s almost ten-thirty,” he said, glancing at his phone. “I figured I should head out before your dad gets back.”

I pouted, a bit disappointed. “Boo, I wish you could stay all night. I’ve always wondered what it’d be like to actually sleep next to you.”

He chuckled, lowering his voice to a whisper. "Trust me, you wouldn’t get much sleep..." I bit my lower lip. Smooth. He smiled at my reaction and kissed my forehead.

“How about we grab coffee tomorrow and take a walk in Silverwood Park? Just you, me, and some overstimulated squirrels...”

I barked a laugh. Silverwood Park was only a ten-minute drive from my house, but it was easily the most beautiful spot in Averon. No matter the season—rain, snow, or shine—the park always looked breathtaking. But the squirrels? They were a little crazy.

I remembered one time, a single squirrel had darted out in front of us, nearly causing us to crash into each other. Then, a whole gang of them followed, chasing after it like they were in some sort of woodland race. They circled the nearest tree, spiralled up, and then disappeared into the forest. Carter and I were convinced they had a caffeine addiction from sipping leftover coffee people threw in the trash. Honestly, that was an awesome third date—we couldn’t stop laughing at the sight.

“Yes, yes, a thousand times yes!” I squealed, hugging him tight. But then reality hit me, and I sighed. “Could we do it after lunch? I need more time to work on my project. I’m going to be that boring person, tapping away on my laptop on a Saturday night.” I waved my finger in the air dramatically, adding a sarcastic “woooo.”

Carter laughed, shaking his head. “There’s nothing wrong with wanting to do well in college, El.”Ah, El. My half-Spanish self never really loved that nickname, but Carter managed to make it sound cute, so I let it slide. Still, I rolled my eyes at his remark.

"Ugh, you sound like my parents!" I teased, giving his chest a playful shove.

"Well, someone has to be the grown-up in this relationship. I’m older, so it’s clearly my job," he grinned.

I cocked an eyebrow at him. "By one month... and fourteen days!"

"Precisely!" he replied with that addictive smile. All I could do was smile back and shake my head. “Don’t worry, I’ll bring the coffee tomorrow to bribe you out of hermit mode."

I sighed dramatically. "Fine, you win this time, Dawson. Coffee and a walk it is."

He stood up, smoothing back his hair, and began gathering his things. I watched him move around the room, getting dressed. I really did love having him around—fun, teasing, and always able to make me laugh. Plus, his bear hugs never failed to cheer me up.

Once he was fully dressed, he came over and gave me a goodbye kiss.

"See you tomorrow, El," he promised.

"See you tomorrow," I replied.

As the front door clicked shut and the low growl of his Camaro faded into the distance, I noticed the room was rather empty. I hugged my knees and my mind wandered back to the dream. His tattoo. It had to mean something. The way it flashed at me in the void, erratic and without rhythm, felt urgent—like a warning. The image popped back into my head, almost begging me to draw it.

I climbed out of bed and opened the drawer, pulling out my sketchbook. Grabbing my white charcoal pencil, I dove back under the covers to keep warm, flipping to the next blank page. I began sketching, letting the familiar sound of charcoal gliding across paper soothe my nerves.

First, I started with the dagger. The hilt was jagged, with sharp points flaring out, giving it an almost aggressive appearance. I remembered how the blade was split—one side a striking white, the other a deep black. The contrast felt symbolic, though I couldn’t quite grasp its meaning. There was something unsettling about it, but I pushed the feeling aside and kept drawing.

Next came the sun. Its rays were sharp and uneven, radiating from behind the handle of the dagger. Suns usually symbolised warmth, light, goodness. Maybe this was some kind of heroic emblem? I thought back to how Carter liked medieval fantasy and comic books—could this be a symbol from his favourite hero? It seemed plausible, but the image still felt... wrong somehow.

I finished the sun and moved on to the upside-down crescent moon. My frown deepened as I sketched the jagged wound where the dagger pierced the moon, the blade splitting it all the way through. Light versus darkness? But the moon had never seemed evil to me. As I traced the harsh lines, a strange feeling crept in—I felt bad for the moon. Why? It was just a tattoo, after all... right?