Chapter 119: Breakdown

Elara:

"Elara."

Jasper’s voice reached me through the chaos, low and firm. He caught my shoulders and turned me toward him, forcing me to look at him. His expression was unlike anything I’d seen before - serious, focused, and almost unnerved.

"Look at me."

I shook my head frantically, tears spilling down my cheeks as I pointed toward the box. "That’s Crazy. That’s him. Someone killed him."

His grip tightened slightly, and he glanced toward the box before looking back at me. "Elara, that isn’t Crazy."

I stared at him, unable to comprehend the words. "What?"

He spoke slowly, making every word unmistakable. "The cat inside that box looks exactly like Crazy. But it isn’t him."

For several seconds, I could only stare at Jasper. Then my gaze slowly shifted back toward the dead cat, and for the first time since opening that box, a tiny crack appeared in the certainty that had been suffocating me.

It took Jasper far longer than I would have liked to convince me that the cat inside that box wasn’t Crazy. My mind kept rejecting every explanation he gave me because every part of the creature looked identical to the cat I had known for years. The same white fur. The same face. The same size. Even the same markings.

If Jasper hadn’t been standing in front of me with that impossibly calm certainty, I might have been fully accepted that someone had somehow murdered my familiar and then sent his body to me.

But Jasper didn’t let me drown in that thought. He crouched in front of me and held my shoulders firmly while reminding me of the bond between a familiar and their companion.

"Elara, you would have known," he said quietly, making me look at him. "Crazy isn’t simply a cat that lives with you. He’s your familiar. Your magic is connected to his, and his is connected to yours. If something had happened to him, you would have felt it."

I shook my head, tears still streaming down my face, and whispered, "P-perhaps... I didn’t felt anything... because I wasn’t there."

Jasper immediately shook his head. "It doesn’t work that way. Distance doesn’t erase a familiar bond. If Crazy were dead, your magic would have reacted. You would have felt the severing of that connection. You wouldn’t have simply opened a box and discovered him like this." He paused, his expression softening as he added, "And think about him, Elara. Does Crazy seem like the kind of creature who would let someone quietly take him away without putting up a fight?"

Despite everything, a broken little sound escaped me that was almost a laugh. No. Crazy would have bitten someone’s hand off first and complained about the inconvenience afterward.

Jasper seemed to notice the tiny shift in my expression, and he continued gently, telling me that whatever had been placed inside that box was meant to look like Crazy, but it wasn’t him.

My eyes eventually moved away from Jasper and toward Violet and Myra. Both of them looked shaken, but neither was looking at the dead cat with the same recognition I had. They had reached the same conclusion. It looked exactly like Crazy, but it wasn’t Crazy. And when that truth finally settled somewhere deep inside me, relief hit so violently that it hurt.

I didn’t even realize I had moved until I was suddenly in Jasper’s arms. One second I was standing there, barely holding myself together, and the next my face was pressed against his chest as his arms closed around me. It was the tightest, most protective embrace I had felt since losing my family.

Not once did he hesitate. He simply pulled me closer, one hand settling against the back of my head while the other wrapped firmly around me as though he could physically keep the entire world away if he held me tightly enough. And somehow, that was what broke me.

The tears that had started because of the dead cat became something else entirely. They became the tears I hadn’t fully cried when I lost my parents and Felix. The tears I swallowed when I discovered my entire identity had been stolen from me.

They became the tears I had refused to shed after being kidnapped, after the attempted murder, after waking in the infirmary, after discovering that people wanted to use my bloodline, my magic, my name. They became every frightened night, every nightmare, every moment I had stood alone pretending I was stronger than I felt.

Suddenly I wasn’t crying for the cat in the box anymore. I was crying for everything.

My legs stopped supporting me, and I sank toward the floor, but Jasper followed immediately, never letting go. He lowered himself onto the thick living-room rug with me, keeping me securely in his arms as my body shook against him. I buried my face into his chest and sobbed until my throat hurt, and for the first time in months, I didn’t care who heard me.

Apparently, the professors had already sent everyone away. I hadn’t noticed. I hadn’t noticed much of anything beyond Jasper’s arms and the warmth surrounding me. Only a handful of staff had witnessed the worst of my breakdown, and even they were quickly gone.

I heard Jasper speaking sometime afterward, his voice calm and firm as he told Lorien, Ms. Noctis, and my friends to leave me with him because I wasn’t in any state to answer questions or explain anything.

I couldn’t make out every word, but I heard Violet’s quiet footsteps eventually retreating, followed by Myra’s. The door closed, and the dorm became almost completely silent. There were no curious students whispering outside. No professors asking what had happened. No questions. Just my sobs and Jasper’s steady breathing.

He didn’t try to make me stop. Not once. He didn’t tell me that everything was going to be okay. He didn’t ask me what was wrong. He didn’t ask why I was crying so hard over a cat that wasn’t even mine. He didn’t tell me to be strong. He simply sat there on the rug with me in his arms, one hand moving slowly through my hair while I cried as much as I needed to.

There was something almost heartbreaking about how easily he seemed to understand. As though he knew this wasn’t about the box anymore. As though he knew I had been carrying far too much for far too long and that today had simply been the final crack in something that had already been breaking inside me.

Every so often, his fingers gently brushed through my hair, the movement slow and reassuring, and whenever another wave of grief overwhelmed me, his arms tightened around me without a single word.

He let me fall apart without making me feel ashamed for it. And somewhere between one sob and the next, exhaustion finally began to win. My breathing gradually slowed and my body grew heavier against him.

The last thing I remember was the warmth of Jasper’s chest beneath my cheek and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath my ear. Then, still wrapped securely in his arms, I finally fell asleep.