Back in The forest,
Serai woke first.
The ceiling of the cave was rough stone veined with moss, its cracks dripping slow tears of morning condensation. Pale light filtered in from the tree-shielded mouth of the shelter. Somewhere beyond, birds sang half-heartedly—as if even they weren't convinced the night had truly ended.
Her breath came shallow at first. Then faster. Then deeper.
The ache in her body was everywhere. Shoulders. Joints. Teeth. Even the skin beneath her fingernails burned like she'd been holding lightning.
She flexed her fingers.
They obeyed, but not fully. The sensation was distant. Like she was borrowing her body instead of wearing it.
Her eyes shifted sideways.
Auren lay beside her, curled near a bed of dry leaves and ash. His breathing was soft but unsteady. A small scab traced his cheekbone. His hand twitched every so often—reflex, memory, fear.
And something else.
She sat up slowly, her bones creaking like old wood.
The sound must've woken him.
He stirred, groaned, blinked. Pain flashed across his face as he sat up.
Their eyes met.
No words came immediately. Just the weight of what they'd survived pressing against their ribs.
"You made it," she said hoarsely.
Auren offered a weak smile. "'We' made it."
She looked at him—long enough for the weight of the words to settle—then glanced away.
"How long was I out?"
He tilted his head, thinking. "Hard to say. Long enough for the Wazir to finish being cryptic and wander off twice."
That pulled a small smile from her—barely there, but real.
She nodded, still not quite looking at him. "You look like hell."
"You should see the other guy," he muttered. "Or what's left of him."
There was a pause, quiet and close.
"You pulled me out of something," she said. "Didn't you?"
Auren didn't answer right away. "You were already clawing your way up. I just… gave you a little push."
Another beat.
"I remember your voice," she said. "Just before it happened. I remember reaching for it."
"You did more than just reaching it."
That time, she looked at him fully. There was something sharp in her gaze. Curious. Tired. But not afraid.
"Is that your thing?" she asked. "Saving girls you barely know?"
Auren smiled. "Only the terrifying ones."
She then looked down at her hands. No glow now. No red aura. Just calloused fingers and drying blood.
But they didn't feel like her hands.
Not yet.
Auren sat forward, wincing. "Do you remember anything?"
She didn't answer.
Her expression was caught somewhere between confusion and dread. Finally, she nodded once—then shook her head. "Pieces. Like shattered glass under water. It's all… out of order."
He leaned back against the cave wall. "I saw it. A glimpse. Of what I pulled from you."
He hesitated. "I used your future."
Silence.
Then: "What did you see?"
He looked away. "A battlefield. Bodies. Fire. You, in the middle. Fighting like nothing human. No hesitation. No fear."
She swallowed hard.
Auren's voice lowered. "But that wasn't the worst part."
She turned to him.
"You weren't you anymore."
From the cave's dark corner, the Wazir's voice drifted like smoke.
"Who's to say?" he mused, cheerful as ever. "Maybe it was her future. Maybe it was just your guilt, showing you weird dreams."
Auren frowned. "You were the one who told me to pull it."
The Wazir chuckled. "I said give her what she desires. Whether that desire comes from tomorrow or ten years from now… well, who knows? Maybe the gods were curious what she'd look like unchained."
He laughed again, softer now. "Heh. Gods do enjoy a little blood in the morning."
Serai closed her eyes.
"I remember… pressure," she said. "Not a moment. A feeling. Like I was trapped under something. Heavy. And then it broke. And there was nothing but fire."
She opened her eyes again. "I felt everything—but none of it was familiar like it did not belong to me."
Auren nodded slowly.
"I gave you that. Without asking."
Her gaze didn't harden—but it didn't soften either. "You saved me."
"I weaponized you."
A pause.
"I was already a weapon, all my life," she said quietly. "Just this time, you were just the one who pulled the trigger."
Auren didn't speak for a moment.
Then: "If that's true, I wasn't aiming at anyone."
She looked at him sideways. "That supposed to make me feel better?"
"No," he said. "Just honest."
She studied him. Her gaze didn't soften, but something in it settled—like she was less ready to strike, more ready to listen.
"Guess we're both bad at not getting pulled into things," she murmured.
He shrugged, lips tugging into the faintest smirk. "Could be worse."
"Oh?" she asked, arching a brow.
"You could've killed me before we escaped."
That got her. She laughed—just once, short and dry.
"Next time," she said.
The fire crackled softly. Wind rustled leaves at the cave mouth.
Auren exhaled, low and bitter. "That wasn't the plan. I was supposed to get us out quietly. Nobody dead. No… monsters."
"Is that what you think I was?" Serai asked.
He looked at her. "You're not. But what I saw… might be."
They sat for a while, both staring at the earth like it might offer answers.
Then Serai spoke again, quieter. "It felt… good. The strength. The certainty. Like all the noise finally went silent."
She looked at her hands again.
"But that's also what scares me, that good feeling"
Auren didn't answer.
Because it scared him too.
Not her power.
But the fact that it had felt right.