i brought a stick to a gunfight and i’m stuck with my tongue tied; Life, it seems, is back on track. An unusual thing to say when you’re living in hard, cold darkness, listening to the sound of the waves slapping against the stone base of the castle and trying to ignore the fact that, occasionally, it is drowned out by the low rumble of your own stomach. Dinner isn’t for another hour or so, and when it does arrive it will be pitiful at best. Children, with their youthful ignorance, are the only ones who run these days – anyone with an awareness of the situation and the sense to respect it is sat huddled in the great hall, keeping near the fire and trying to conserve their energy for the long, difficult months which are forecast. Mostly the castle is reasonably quiet, but occasionally there’s an outcry when someone discovers that someone else has attempted to smuggle in a beloved pet and is refusing to follow the ‘fairy and familiar only’ policy. The resulting argument is nearly always won by the pet-owner; most people haven’t the will to tear them from their cherished animals and the situation isn’t so desperate that they’re putting their stomachs before their hearts. Yet. All of this washes completely over Damon. None of it matters, because after a long year of unrivalled pain and suffering, Ciara has let him back into her life again. So long as Ciara and Ithuriel are safe and well, the rest of the world can go to pot as far as Damon is concerned. Kale, padding along behind him moodily, doesn’t seem to share this sentiment. The great German Shepherd had wanted to stay in the great hall where all the heat is, but after Damon had established that Ciara wasn’t there and had left to go look for her, the former had loyally followed him out. He hasn’t said anything yet, for which Damon is grateful; the castle is more complicated to navigate than the Shady Labyrinth, and he’s having to concentrate hard to stop them going round in circles. He has a hunch that he knows where Ciara might be. These stairs are dangerous – Damon hopes Ciara didn’t climb them with Ithuriel clutched in her arms, but also has no doubt that she did. They’re steep and uneven, slippery in places where the water has leaked in, and as they wind round in a circular structure the edge of the step fades away into nothing, disallowing any two people from passing each other at the same time. Hopefully no one will come the other way. There’s no rail to hold on to, either, so Damon keeps one hand against the stone wall, trying not to let the swift ease with which Kale climbs annoy him. What he wouldn’t give for four legs and a tail right now. And to think, Arthur actually lives here permanently... perhaps he has a secret elevator which only he knows about. Eventually he reaches the top of the staircase, with a single wooden door which he supposes must lead out to the rooftop. Twisting the doorknob, Damon pauses briefly to let Kale out first before following him, feeling the cold outdoor wind slap his face with pleasure. It may be chilly and grizzly out here, but anything is better than being shut up in a stuffy old castle with every other bod in the land. Just as Damon had suspected, Ciara is up here, looking out at the endless ocean with Ithuriel on her hip and Nalani on her shoulder. It’s impossible to approach quietly with his feet slapping across the wet stone, even with the wind howling viciously all around them. Ciara’s long, red hair precedes her, flying about her person and whipping the air with the furious passion that Damon remembers so well. Too long. It’s been far too long. Slipping his arm around her waist, Damon pulls Ciara close to him and kisses her. The old love he’d felt for her reawakens and burns so brightly within him that, for a moment, he feels as if they’ve never been apart. DAMON how can the only thing that’s killing me make me feel so alive?