Chapter Five: The Rift Between Siblings

The crackling of the small fire Cain had built was the only sound in the stillness of the Shadowfjord. I sat with my back against a jagged rock, my body aching from the trial I'd barely made it through. Ghost was beside me, his posture relaxed but his eyes never still, scanning the shadows like he expected the fjord to come alive at any moment.

Cain stood at the edge of the outcropping, his silhouette sharp against the starry expanse of water. He'd barely spoken since we stopped to rest, and something about his silence felt... heavier than before. I didn't trust him—couldn't, really—but even I could tell there was something gnawing at him, pulling his attention away from the present.

I was just about to ask what was bothering him when the sound of footsteps shattered the quiet. Ghost stiffened beside me, his hand instinctively moving to the blade at his side. I followed his gaze, my chest tightening as a figure stepped out of the shadows.

Amdis.

Her movements were slow, deliberate, as if she owned the very ground she walked on. The firelight danced across her sharp features, highlighting the glint of steel in her eyes. She didn't look at me or Ghost—instead, her gaze locked onto Cain, her expression colder than I'd ever seen it.

"You've been quiet, brother," she said, her voice carrying a venom that made the air between them feel dangerous. "What's the matter? Losing your edge?"

Cain didn't turn to face her. "What do you want, Amdis?" he asked, his tone flat, almost bored.

Ghost leaned toward me slightly, lowering his voice just enough that only I could hear. "Didn't she already storm off?" he muttered, suspicion lacing his words. "What's she doing back?"

I shook my head, keeping my voice low. "I don't know, but I don't think it's good."

Amdis tilted her head, a humorless smile curving her lips. "What do I always want, Cain? To clean up your mess."

"I didn't realize my mess required your attention," he said, finally glancing over his shoulder. His eyes were sharp, his expression unreadable. "Or have you run out of people to torment?"

The tension between them was suffocating, a silent battle of wills that made my stomach churn. I glanced at Ghost, but he didn't move, his focus locked on the siblings as if he were trying to figure out which one was the greater threat.

Amdis took a step closer, her movements fluid but calculated. "You let them walk into the fjord," she said, gesturing to me and Ghost. "You let them disturb the balance. You should have sent them back where they came from."

"They're not your concern," Cain said, his voice sharper now. "Stay out of it, Amdis."

"Not my concern?" she echoed, her eyes narrowing. "Everything in this realm is my concern. Or have you forgotten what happens when you turn your back on your responsibilities?"

Cain's jaw tightened, the first crack in his composed facade. "Don't lecture me about responsibilities," he said, his tone dangerously low. "You don't get to stand there and act like you're blameless."

Amdis' smile faded, replaced by something colder, more dangerous. "Careful, Cain," she said softly, her words dripping with warning. "You're not as untouchable as you think."

For a moment, the air around us seemed to still, heavy with an unspoken threat. Ghost's fingers twitched near the hilt of his blade, his sharp eyes flicking between Cain and Amdis like he was bracing for the storm to break. I stayed rooted to my spot, unsure whether to intervene or simply watch the scene unfold.

Amdis took another step forward, her boots crunching against the jagged rocks. "Do you know why the fjord let him leave?" she asked Cain, her tone quieter now but no less dangerous. She gestured sharply toward me, her gaze barely acknowledging my existence. "You think it's a stroke of luck? A fluke?"

Cain didn't move, but the muscle in his jaw tightened, a subtle crack in his stoic facade. "It's none of your concern."

Amdis laughed—a bitter, sharp sound that echoed into the darkness. "None of my concern?" she repeated mockingly. "You let him disturb the balance of this realm. You keep acting like you can play god here, Cain, but you're losing control, just like last time."

"That's enough," Cain snapped, his voice cutting through the air like a blade. His composure was slipping now, anger simmering beneath the surface. "You don't know what you're talking about."

"I know more than you think," Amdis countered, taking another step closer until she was nearly toe-to-toe with him. The firelight caught the sharp angles of her face, casting long shadows that made her look even more menacing. "You can't keep pretending you're in charge here, brother. This realm belongs to both of us. Or have you forgotten?"

Cain's fists clenched at his sides, and I could see the tension rippling through his frame. "This isn't about the realm," he said, his voice low and cold. "This is about you refusing to let go of the past."

Amdis tilted her head, her eyes narrowing. "And what about you?" she said softly, her tone dripping with venom. "Still clinging to your precious rules, your precious order. Still trying to prove you're better than me."

"I don't have to prove anything," Cain said sharply. "Not to you."

The silence that followed was electric, crackling with everything unsaid between them. Amdis didn't move, but the intensity in her gaze made it clear this wasn't over—not by a long shot.

Ghost leaned toward me again, his voice barely above a whisper. "Are they always like this?"

"I don't know," I muttered back, though my gut told me this wasn't a new argument. Whatever history lay between Cain and Amdis, it was deep and jagged, like a wound that refused to heal.

Finally, Amdis turned away from Cain, her movements sharp and deliberate. "You'll see," she said, her voice low but carrying easily across the stillness. "You're playing with forces you don't understand. And when it all falls apart, don't say I didn't warn you."

With that, she disappeared into the shadows, her footsteps fading into the distance. Cain didn't move, his frame stiff and unmoving as he stared into the darkness where she had vanished.

For once, Ghost stayed silent, and I didn't know what to say. The tension in the air was suffocating, and whatever had just happened between Cain and Amdis felt like the surface of something much deeper—and much more dangerous.

The silence stretched long after Amdis disappeared, the shadows of the fjord swallowing her whole. The tension she left behind lingered, heavy in the air, wrapping around us like the oppressive cold of the realm. Ghost was the first to break the stillness, his voice cutting through the quiet like a blade.

"Well, that was fun," he muttered, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Does she always make an exit like that, or is tonight special?"

Cain didn't respond immediately. He stood motionless, his back to us, his gaze fixed on the horizon as though he could still see her in the distance. His frame was rigid, his hands clenched tightly at his sides, but he didn't say a word.

Ghost's patience was thin on a good day, and this wasn't one of them. "Alright, tall, dark, and broody," he said, stepping forward. "You mind explaining what just happened back there? Or is this the part where you give us the silent treatment?"

Cain turned slowly, his expression as closed off as ever. "What happened is none of your concern."

"Oh, really?" Ghost shot back, crossing his arms. "Because it sure seems like your little sibling rivalry might get us all killed."

"Ghost," I said softly, trying to ease the tension before it boiled over. "Let it go."

He glanced at me, his jaw tight, but after a moment, he exhaled sharply and stepped back. "Fine," he muttered. "But don't think I'm not keeping an eye on him."

Cain ignored the exchange, his attention shifting to me instead. "You did well in the fjord," he said, his voice flat but not unkind. "Most don't make it out intact."

"Thanks," I said, though the word felt hollow. My encounter with Nyx had left me shaken, and I wasn't sure if Cain's recognition made it any easier to process. "So what now? Is this the part where we get to rest, or do we keep moving?"

Cain's eyes narrowed slightly, as though he were weighing his answer. "You'll rest when I say you're ready. The Shadowfjord isn't done with you yet."

Ghost scoffed, muttering something under his breath that I didn't catch, but Cain's sharp gaze pinned him in place.

"Believe me," Cain said, his voice low and dangerous. "If Amdis comes back, she won't care how tired you are."

The mention of Amdis sent a chill down my spine, and I couldn't help but glance toward the shadows where she'd disappeared. There was something about her—about the way she and Cain had spoken to each other—that set my teeth on edge.

"What's your deal with her, anyway?" I asked before I could stop myself.

Cain's expression didn't change, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes—something dark and unyielding. "That's none of your concern."

"Of course it isn't," Ghost said dryly. "Why would it be? We're only stuck in the middle of whatever messed-up family drama you two have going on."

Cain's jaw tightened, but he didn't take the bait. "Get some rest," he said curtly. "You'll need it."

With that, he turned and walked back toward the edge of the outcropping, leaving me and Ghost alone by the fire. Ghost muttered something under his breath again, but he didn't try to follow him.

"Well," Ghost said after a moment, dropping onto a nearby rock with a sigh. "I don't know about you, but I'm starting to think we might've bitten off more than we can chew."

I managed a weak smile, though my chest still felt heavy. "Starting to?"

He chuckled softly, but the sound didn't hold much humor. "Just try to get some sleep, Daggs. I'll keep watch."

I nodded, though I wasn't sure how much sleep I'd actually manage. The darkness of Shadowfjord felt closer than ever, pressing in at the edges of the firelight. And somewhere in that darkness, I knew Amdis was watching.

The fire crackled softly, its faint light dancing across the jagged rocks and barely pushing back the suffocating darkness of the fjord. Ghost sat nearby, his blade resting across his lap, his sharp eyes fixed on the shadows beyond our small circle of light. His presence was steady, grounding—but it didn't erase the tight knot of unease in my chest.

Cain was perched near the edge of the outcropping, his back turned to us as he stared into the void. He hadn't moved since he'd barked his last orders, his silhouette as still and unmoving as the jagged stones that surrounded us. I couldn't tell if his silence meant he was brooding, thinking, or simply waiting—for Amdis to return, or for something worse.

"Do you think she'll come back?" I asked quietly, breaking the silence.

Ghost glanced at me, his lips pressing into a thin line. "Amdis? Probably," he said, his tone clipped. "She doesn't seem like the type to let things go."

I nodded, though his answer didn't exactly make me feel better. "What do you think she meant—about the balance of the realm, and Cain losing control?"

Ghost raised an eyebrow. "You really think I've got an answer to that?" he said dryly. "The only thing I know for sure is that both of them are bad news. And if we're not careful, we'll be collateral damage in whatever game they're playing."

I swallowed hard, his words sitting heavy in my gut. The idea of being caught between Amdis and Cain's feud wasn't exactly comforting, especially when I still didn't fully understand what we were up against.

"What about you?" Ghost asked, his voice quieter now. "What did you see? Back in the fjord."

The question caught me off guard, and for a moment, I didn't know how to answer. I hadn't told him about Nyx—or the things she'd said to me—and I wasn't sure if I wanted to. The words still felt too raw, too close, like they could unravel me if I spoke them out loud.

"Just... things from my past," I said finally, my voice low. "It's not important."

"Not important?" Ghost repeated, his tone sharpening. "Come on, Daggs. The fjord doesn't just show you random memories. Whatever you saw, it meant something. So what was it?"

I shook my head, my chest tightening. "I said it's not important, Ghost. Let it go."

His jaw tightened, frustration flickering in his eyes, but he didn't back down. "You survived it, didn't you? Whatever it was, you made it through. I'm just trying to figure out if that means you're stronger than you look, or if you're falling apart on the inside."

"Does it matter?" I snapped, the words slipping out before I could stop them. "What I saw in the fjord is mine to deal with, not yours. So drop it, okay?"

Ghost studied me for a long moment, his expression unreadable, before he finally leaned back against the rock behind him. "Fine," he said, though his tone made it clear he wasn't entirely satisfied. "But don't think I'm not keeping an eye on you."

I sighed, the tension in my chest refusing to ease. The weight of his concern lingered, heavy and unspoken, but I didn't have the energy to unpack it.

When Ghost gestured toward the fire, I knew what was coming next. "Get some sleep, Daggs," he said, his voice quieter now. "I'll keep watch."

"I'm not tired," I muttered, though the ache in my body betrayed me.

"Not the point," Ghost replied, his tone firm. "You'll need your strength."

"I'll sleep when I'm ready," I shot back, crossing my arms. "I'm not a kid, Ghost. You don't have to babysit me."

He raised an eyebrow, a flicker of amusement breaking through the tension. "No, you're definitely not a kid," he said dryly. "But you're stubborn enough to make me wonder."

I huffed, but the fight was draining out of me. Ghost gestured toward the spot near the fire again, and this time, I didn't argue. "Fine," I muttered, lying down with a grumble. "But don't expect me to thank you for this."

Ghost smirked faintly. "Wouldn't dream of it."

As I closed my eyes, the silence of the fjord pressed in around me, heavy and suffocating. The echoes of Nyx's voice lingered in the back of my mind, and somewhere in the darkness, I swore I could feel Amdis watching.

I couldn't sleep. The ground beneath me was cold and uneven, and though the fire crackled steadily, it felt like little more than a fragile ember against the overwhelming chill of the fjord. Every time I closed my eyes, the silence seemed to press closer, the weight of the darkness suffocating.

Ghost sat a few feet away, his blade resting across his knees as his sharp eyes tracked the flickering shadows. He'd been silent for what felt like hours, his focus unbroken, but when I shifted restlessly, I caught him glancing my way.

"You alright?" he asked quietly, his voice low to avoid disturbing Cain, who was perched at the edge of the outcropping, still as a statue.

I hesitated, my throat tight. "Fine," I muttered, though the word rang hollow even to me.

Ghost sighed softly, setting his blade down beside him. Without a word, he shifted closer, the distance between us shrinking until I could feel the faint warmth of his presence cutting through the cold. "You're a terrible liar," he said lightly, though there was no edge to his tone—only quiet understanding.

I managed a weak smile, though it didn't last long. The weight in my chest refused to lift, the echoes of the fjord's trials still lingering in the corners of my mind. "It's just... this place," I said finally, my voice barely audible. "It doesn't feel right."

"Nothing about this place feels right," Ghost replied, leaning back against the rock behind him. "But we'll get through it. We always do."

His confidence should've been reassuring, but it only made the tightness in my chest worse. "I don't know," I admitted, the words slipping out before I could stop them. "It feels... different this time. Like we're being watched."

Ghost didn't respond immediately. His gaze drifted toward the fire, the flames casting flickering shadows across his face. "You're probably not wrong," he said finally, his voice quieter now. "But hey, if something's out there watching, it can deal with me before it gets to you."

I blinked, startled by the casual certainty in his tone. "Ghost—"

"Relax, Daggs," he interrupted, smirking faintly. "It was a joke. Kind of."

The corners of my mouth twitched despite myself, and for a moment, the tension in my chest eased. Ghost leaned his head back, closing his eyes for a brief moment before shifting his attention back to the shadows.

"Get some rest," he said, the firmness in his tone leaving little room for argument. "I'll keep watch."

I sighed, my shoulders slumping. "I'm not a kid, Ghost. You don't have to babysit me."

"Could've fooled me," he quipped, though his smile softened the jab. "Come on, Daggs. You're no good to anyone if you're running on empty."

I huffed, reluctant to admit he had a point, but the weight of exhaustion was finally catching up to me. With a grudging nod, I stretched out on the cold ground, Ghost's presence steady and reassuring beside me.

As I drifted into a hazy, half-asleep state, the oppressive silence of the fjord seemed to grow quieter, muted by the warmth radiating from him. Barely aware of what I was doing, I shifted closer, the cold ground rough beneath me, until my head came to rest lightly against Ghost's lap. The motion was instinctive, a surrender to the fleeting sense of comfort he provided.

Ghost froze for a moment, his body going tense, but he didn't pull away. Instead, he let out a quiet sigh, shifting slightly to settle more comfortably without disturbing me. I wasn't sure if I imagined it, but I thought I felt his hand hover for just a second before he let it rest lightly at his side.

"Stubborn," he muttered under his breath, though there was no bite in the word—only a quiet exasperation that bordered on fondness.

And as the fire crackled softly beside us, the shadows of the fjord pressing in at the edges, I let myself drift into uneasy sleep, Ghost's presence anchoring me against the darkness.