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WHITE FLAKES FLOATED DOWN FROM THE SKY, PRICKING HIS SKIN LIKE NEEDLES AS THEY LANDED.
It never snowed on Arkos.
Hunched over on a narrow balcony, Mori watched them fall. He didn't know how long he'd been there for. The smog-cloaked sky had darkened, and the streets were shrouded in twilight.
I should have stayed.
It felt so unfair. He would have if only Ren had given him the choice. Stayed and let someone else take his place, stayed and laboured at the collapsing tower a little longer. Anything to avoid ending up here like this.
He wanted to be angry at her. But somehow, he couldn't. He remembered with crystal clarity the mechanism rattling, flying out from the gear train he'd just attempted to fix. He knew if Ren had repaired the defect, none of this would have happened.
But she'd trusted him, and he'd screwed it up, and Arkos was gone because of it—
His head dipped between his knees, taking deep, quick breaths to quell the nausea rising from his stomach. As it curdled within him, he realised it wasn't nausea but hatred, not for Ren or anyone else but himself. Hating that he was here, safe on Dysis, safe from the consequences of the disaster he'd caused while the rest of the world crumbled.
The door slid open. Mori glanced up, hopeful and terrified it might be Ren. But Argent stepped outside, breath ghosting through the cool air.
He jumped when he saw Mori. "What on—have you been out here this whole time?" he said. "I thought you'd gone out with Ren."
Mori frowned. "She's gone?"
"She left a couple of hours ago." Argent took him by the arm and tugged him to his feet. "Said there was something she needed to check out."
Mori almost laughed. It was like they'd never left Arkos.
Argent directed Mori to the sofa and disappeared to the small kitchenette in the corner. He returned a few minutes later and pushed a cup into Mori's numb hands. "Here. Drink this."
"What's in it?"
"Mist leaf tea," Argent said. "Should help to settle your thoughts."
"I'm fine," Mori said.
Argent smiled. "Sure, sure. Well, at the very least, it'll warm you up a little."
Black, needle-like leaves swirled at the bottom of the cup, staining the liquid amber, then dark mahogany. Bitter steam warmed Mori's face. He leaned in without thinking, letting the gentle heat wash over his face. The scent was eerily evocative of a time he'd long forgotten, before he became a clockmaker. It was the gentle touch on his shoulder after a hard day, words of reassurance.
Unbidden, a smile fluttered at the edge of his mouth. He looked up and caught Argent watching him, his mouth quirking.
