Ryn had always considered himself somewhat strong.

  Not invincible, but capable. Reliable. Someone who, if he could just measure his opponent correctly, if he could predict the angle, the timing, the risk, could keep the people behind him safe.

  A part of him — buried deep, instinctive — believed he could protect what he was meant to protect.

  That he was enough.

  That he always would be.

  But over the following month, that belief unraveled.

  Each day carved another reminder into him:

  He had never been strong enough.

  Not in the beginning.

  Not now.

  And though he wanted to deny it, with every breath, every beaten-down moment of stubbornness. the truth settled inside him like a blade driven into the softest part of his chest.

  And It kind of hurt.

  It whispered that no matter how hard he fought, no matter how hard he pushed, he had already failed in the one thing he was supposed to do

  And now they were trapped.

  Surrounded.

  Dozens of aberrations pressed in from every direction.

  Their shrill cries scraped against the stone, claws dragging across the walls in a ceaseless, skin-crawling rhythm. Shadows writhed just beyond the broken archways, twisting closer with each passing second.

  The light from Ariel’s arm had drawn them here —

  not just a few…

  but dozens.

  Ryn gripped his sword the way he always did, knuckles white around the hilt.

  But at this point, he wasn’t even sure if he could do anything with it.

  Still, he knew his final task—and what he had to do.

  His right arm, or what little remained of it, ached sharply with every breath.

  The pain pulsed up to his shoulder, reminding him of just how broken he truly was.

  Still, he lifted the blade.

  Because there was nothing else he could do.

  “…Ryn.”

  Her voice cracked.

  “Can you… please go check on Ariel?”

  Ryn turned toward her.

  He sat beside Lilia, who was shivering, her knees drawn up to her face. She tried to hide it, but Ryn could see the terror in every small movement of her shoulders. She had been trying to stay strong for Ariel… yet it was clear she’d reached her limit.

  She had suffered as much as her — maybe more.

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  She had spent almost as much of her life in Solvara as Ariel had.

  He rose to his feet with a quiet nod.

  He made his way toward the piece of cloth Ariel lay on.

  The sounds outside never stopped, the aberrations screeching, clawing, slamming against the walls with frantic, hungry force. Every impact shuddered through the stone, a reminder that the only thing separating them from death was a barrier that could break at any moment.

  Ariel looked pale under the dim light.

  Her hair clung to her forehead, damp with sweat.

  Tears had dried unevenly on her cheeks, leaving faint streaks like cracks on porcelain.

  Her breathing came in harsh, uneven pulls, as though every inhale dragged knives through her ribs.

  Ryn crouched down beside her, fingers curling tightly into his palm.

  Aren’t you the one who told me, ‘what if I push myself and become broken beyond repair?’he thought, a bitter edge rising in his chest.

  His jaw clenched.

  So what the gods are you doing right now, Ariel?

  Why are you the one lying here like this?

  He looked at her small, trembling form —

  The marks burned into her arm, still faintly glowing beneath the sweat.

  Then he turned away.

  Another thud slammed against the outside wall, harder this time. Dust drifted down from the temple roof in thin streams, settling over his shoulders like ash.

  His grip tightened around his sword.

  He took a step, ready to return to Lilia before—

  A groan.

  Ariel.

  He froze, turning back at once.

  She was still lying flat, eyes half-closed, but her hand was stretched weakly toward him, fingers trembling. Ryn knelt without thinking, taking her hand carefully, trying to steady her.

  He sat close.

  Close enough to hear the shake in her breathing.

  For a moment, neither of them said anything.

  Only the distant screeching filled the air.

  Then Ariel whispered, voice raw and small:

  “We’re all gonna stay together… we’re all gonna survive… and make it.”

  Her fingers tightened around his hand with surprising strength.

  “Right, Ryn?”

  Ryn didn’t answer.

  For the first time, he couldn’t look her in the eyes.

  He wanted to say yes.

  Wanted to promise her — desperately — that they’d all make it out together.

  alive.

  That this wasn’t the end.

  But the truth sat heavy in his chest.

  It was over.

  It truly was.

  There was nothing left to do, and he was powerless to change any of it.

  So he said nothing.

  He didn’t even turn toward her.

  A faint sniffle reached him.

  Then another.

  She was crying.

  “I’m sorry, Ryn… I’m so sorry…”

  Her voice cracked, breaking under its own weight.

  “I’m sorry for everything.”

  Her grip on his hand trembled.

  “I really am.”

  His chest ached.

  He looked away still.

  Finally, after a long, trembling breath, he spoke:

  “Me too”