Delphi's dreams dragged her back into Hell.

She burned on the table while The Experimentor laughed, his voice echoing off stone walls. Heat peeled through her skin, layer by layer. The stench of singed hair and something worse filled her nostrils.

She drowned in phantom waters as she was carried back to her cell. Cold flooded her lungs, pressed against her eardrums, turned her screams into bubbles.

She batted away the shadows that flickered at the edges of her vision, ghosts that had once been real. Their fingers brushed her arms like cobwebs, cold and clinging.

She woke with a violent gasp.

Sweat clung to her back, soaking through her undergarments. Her hands trembled uncontrollably, fingers twitching against the damp sheets. It had been months since the nightmares had been this vivid. Months since she'd felt the heat crawl across her skin, the drowning pressure in her chest, or seen the shadows reach for her.

She wrapped the blanket around herself like armor and stood. The floor was cold beneath her bare feet. Hope was curled on the sofa, tails tucked neatly around her, fur rising and falling with each soft breath. Thank the stars. If she'd been on the bed, Delphi would have received a lecture for stealing the blanket.

Delphi walked to the window.

Mist blanketed the gardens, soft and silver, muffling the world beyond. She dropped the blanket and opened the window. Clad only in her undergarments, she let the cold air wash over her skin, her shoulders, her collarbone, the hollow of her throat. It dried the sweat and steadied her breath. The scent of wet stone and distant rain crept in.

She had always taken comfort in the cold. Maybe because she was born with ice magic. Maybe because she had become cold by nature. It didn't matter.

A polite knock broke the quiet.

A maid entered, carrying a tray of tea. Steam curled from the pot, carrying the faint scent of chamomile. She was beautiful, deliberately so. Her uniform was tailored to emphasize her curves, especially her chest. Delphi rolled her eyes. Tait was handsome, yes, but this maid was punching far above her station.

Then Delphi paused. She didn't know him anymore. Ten years was a long time. Who was to say the maid didn't have a chance?

The maid set the tray on the coffee table with a soft clink of porcelain. "Young Master, your tea is ready," she asked sweetly. "Do you require anything else?"

Her tone suggested she was offering far more than tea.

"I think that will be all," Delphi said.

Her voice was sharper than she intended, cold and dangerous, cutting through the room like a blade. The maid spun around, startled, and finally noticed Delphi.

"Who are you? You need to leave — the young master didn't—" She stormed towards Delphi. The maid’s hand closed around Delphi's wrist. 

Her instincts snapped.

The temperature plummeted. Wind surged around her, whipping her hair across her face and slamming the maid back several steps. The teacups rattled on their tray. Drops of water drifted through the open window, lifting from the mist, gathering above Delphi's head in a trembling constellation. Slowly, the droplets sharpened, stretching, thinning, forming long, needle-thin shards of ice that caught the pale morning light.

One shot forward.

It sliced across the maid's cheek with a wet hiss. Blood welled up, bright and red, trickling down her jaw.

The door burst open.

"Delphi!" Tait shouted.

He rushed toward her, only to be thrown back by a blast of wind and ice. The cold bit into his skin. His back hit the doorframe with a heavy thud.

"Delphi! It's okay! You're safe. You're home!" His words didn't reach her. She was back in Hell. Back in the cell. Back with the shadows, their phantom fingers wrapping around her wrists.

Jonas appeared behind him, eyes wide with alarm.

Voices reached her like sound through water. Her name, maybe. Something warm kept hitting the cold she was making. Wrong. Everything was wrong and cold was right and the table was—

Something slammed into her. Solid. Warm. A heartbeat against her ear, drumming steady and real.

Then another figure appeared at the doorway.

Emmy. Barefoot, hair loose, a cream shawl clutched over her nightgown as if she'd grabbed it running. She looked half-asleep and wholly confused.

"Brothers?" she asked, blinking at the chaos. The wind. The ice. The maid cowering on the floor. Her voice came out small and bewildered. "What's happening?"

Delphi's head snapped toward the unfamiliar voice. The distraction sent several ice needles flying straight at her, whistling through the air.

Jonas reacted instantly, knocking Emmy out of the way. They hit the floor together, his arm braced over her head.

Tait seized the moment. He lunged forward, ignoring the wind that sliced his cheek, the ice that stung his arms, and wrapped Delphi in a fierce, protective embrace. His chest was warm against her frozen skin. His heartbeat drummed steady and real beneath her ear.

"It's okay," he whispered urgently, breath warm against her hair. "It's all okay. I'm here. I'm here."

Delphi's body was rigid, frozen in terror. Her fingers dug into his shirt, knuckles white.

"It's okay. I'm here. I'm here."

The cold broke. 

Slowly, her strength drained away. Her knees buckled. She collapsed against him, sobbing into his chest with a rawness that tore at the heart. The ice above her shattered and fell, tinkling against the floor like broken glass.

Tait held her tighter, shielding her from the world.

"You're home," he murmured. "You're safe. I've got you."

Delphi, unable to stop, just cried.