Regret Came Too Late

Outside, the snow kept falling. In the distance, the landscape was nothing but rubble, and beyond that, an endless stretch of bleak gray sky.

Ethan's fingers stayed locked with hers; the heat of his skin was a smoldering presence she couldn't ignore.

Grace didn't have it in her to be cruel-not when he asked so quietly to just be allowed this.

The minutes dragged painfully, and his fever only worsened.

Eventually, she couldn't sit still any longer. She reached for the bottle of water, ready to coax him into drinking again.

His eyes fluttered open-glazed, foggy, as if he wasn't sure where he was.

"Mr. Bennett's gone, Mr. Henderson. Let's head back first. Even if there's no medicine, lying down will be better than staying here," she reasoned.

Instead of responding, Ethan slowly dragged his tie, his movements sluggish from the fever.

Grace quickly pressed her hand against his chest to stop him and re-fastened the tie.

Normally, he was all sharp lines and strict precision, never leaving a button undone.

Grace lowered her eyes, fingers deftly tying the knot. She decided she wouldn't wait for Tim anymore-she would get Ethan back herself.

Just then, Ethan's scalding hand closed over hers.

"We're not going back," he rasped, his voice wrecked by the fever. "There are magnolias nearby... did you know?"

Grace had no clue where they were, only realizing more and more that he was completely out of it.

them, I'll go pick some for you," she said,

his eyes lit up instantly, hope flashing through the

"What?" he said, surprised.

disbelief-seriously?

"Mr. Henderson..."

gloss it over, but he suddenly dropped her

it," he

to his forehead; even the corners of his eyes seemed misty, his cheeks flushed a

But if I can't find any in

a faint, weary smile as he hummed a soft reply. The snow was

took

walked toward the woods, but after a few paces, worry tugged her

back to the car and tapped lightly on the

flushed with the fever, and his hair whipped around

to fake it-wander a bit and grab something random

one look at

looked like some feral, red-draped spirit-fragile, powerful,

have to speak; somehow, he

she would ever feel pity for him.

a response, she marched into the

exist. However, after ten minutes of wading through the. snow there it was-a flash of crimson nestled

bright against the ghostly white of

blinked in disbelief before

reached out. The instant she brushed the delicate bloom, a rush of

the pitch-black cave, two children clung to each

with tremor. She instinctively glanced around, then moved toward a direction that felt

feet, she spotted a hollow in the