They do not rest because the world does not pause.What they carry is heavy, and what they protect demands more than strength.If they were ordinary, they would have broken long ago.
They thank God for the power they bear, and for the people beside them, because unity is the only reason any of this still holds.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
Marcus lingered longer than expected. He embraced his family one final time before joining us, his expression composed but distant. Once the engines started and the island fell behind us, he said nothing. An hour passed in silence, his gaze fixed forward as though memorizing the road.
"North-west will take us to the first town beyond the desert," he said at last, glancing back at us from the driver's seat. "Crackstone. About thirty minutes out. We should stop there for refreshments and…" His eyes flicked to me. "…a decent potty break."
The tension eased just enough for a few quiet smiles.
He had chosen a transport van large enough to seat all of us comfortably. Behind us followed an armored prisoner carrier, reinforced steel plating along its sides and narrow observation slits cut into the metal. A handful of guards borrowed from the sovereign rode with it. Elite, we were told.
I believed it.
The road was rougher than anticipated.
Every dip and jolt sent a dull pressure through my lower abdomen. I shifted in my seat, exhaling slowly. Twenty-eight weeks had turned my center of gravity into a negotiation rather than a given. Everything inside me felt heavier. Slower.
Hannah walked with me each time we stopped. Seth stayed close, never hovering, never straying far either.
By the tenth break, patience had thinned.
"I swear," I muttered as we started uphill again, "if the road does not learn some manners, I am rewriting it myself."
Hannah smiled, but her steps slowed.
I felt it then.
A distortion. A smear against the edge of my awareness. Corruption, faint but unmistakable.
My hand rose instinctively.
"Hannah," I said.
She turned just as the figure moved.
Six meters ahead, dark-clad and fast, a blade already clearing its sheath.
Hannah inhaled to scream.
Silver cut through the space before sound could leave her throat.
Seth dropped from above like judgment given weight, boots striking earth between us and them. Gravel jumped. Leaves shuddered. His shoulders rose once as he drew breath, and when he exhaled, silver poured from him in smooth ribbons, alive with purpose.
His eyes had turned fully silver.
The Breath did not lash out like a weapon.
It unfolded.
Six presences moved at once, fluid and quiet, sliding into the attackers as if they had always been there. Motion locked mid-step. Hands froze mid-reach. Breath caught mid-draw. Even the trees seemed to hold still around them.
Seth stood with his back to us, facing the frozen men.
He did not rush.
He exhaled again, slow and measured, and the silver that had unfolded began to return.
It moved backward.
Each presence drifted in reverse, as if retreat and vigilance could exist in the same motion. Their faces stayed toward the attackers, their backs toward Seth, guarding the space between danger and safety while they glided toward him.
A seventh presence passed close to me.
It slowed as it reached my shoulder.
A touch brushed my skin, gentle as a hand smoothing hair behind an ear. Cool. Steady. A wordless reassurance that carried more intimacy than speech ever could.
Then it continued, still moving backward, still watching the threat, until it folded into Seth with the others and disappeared into his breath as though it had never left him at all.
Only then did he turn.
Seth's gaze swept over Hannah first, then found me. The silver in his eyes did not soften, yet his body did. He crossed the distance in three calm steps and reached for my shoulders.
"Are you hurt?" he asked, voice low, controlled, the kind of control that came after fury.
I slapped his hands away, more offended than injured. "You froze six people like yesterday's leftovers and your first thought is that I tripped."
Hannah let out a short sound that might have been a laugh if fear had not been clinging to her throat. "She didn't trip," she offered, then glanced at the frozen men and swallowed. "Yet."
Seth's mouth twitched once. The smallest hint of amusement. Then his focus sharpened again and he looked past us to the forest.
"Stay behind me," he said.
I lifted my chin. "You already decided that the moment you landed."
His eyes flicked to mine, silver catching light through the trees, and for a heartbeat the world felt quieter than it had any right to be.
Alec appeared moments later, boots crunching over gravel.
"I scoped the area," he said. "No others in range. If there are more, they are spread thin."
I nodded. "Which means this was a probe."
I glanced back at the frozen men. "Leave them. They will thaw. Bruised. Humiliated but alive."
Seth stepped to my side, one arm wrapping around me as if the danger had already passed. His back remained to the attackers.
We turned back toward the vehicles.
The journey continued uninterrupted for nearly twenty minutes. Gravel hummed beneath the tires. Conversation stayed light, cautious, as though no one wanted to tempt the road into proving us wrong.
Then the van slowed.
The air tightened, sharp and electric, the kind of stillness that came just before lightning split the sky.
A girl staggered into the road.
A white dress hung from her frame in torn remnants, streaked with grime and old blood. Her hair was loose, tangled, her head bowed as though the weight of it might pull her down. She bent forward, breath tearing in and out of her chest, knees trembling under the effort to stay standing.
She took one more step. Then another. And nearly fell.
Her foot slipped on loose gravel, and this time her strength failed her completely.
Alec moved without thinking.
The door was barely open before he was out, boots striking the road as he crossed the distance in a blur that felt more instinct than speed. He caught her as her legs folded, one arm slipping behind her shoulders, the other bracing her weight as she sagged into him.
He did not linger.
A heartbeat later, the world blurred again, and Alec reappeared inside the van with the girl cradled awkwardly in his lap, one arm braced protectively around her shoulders as the vehicle lurched back into motion.
"She is far too light." He murmured holding his gaze on her.
Her head tipped forward, hair spilling over his arm, breath rattling unevenly against his chest. He tightened his hold at once, adjusting, careful, as if afraid even the smallest movement might break her.
"Easy," he murmured, more to himself than her. "I've got you."
She did not respond.
Her body trembled once, then went slack, the fight leaving her all at once. Alec swore softly under his breath and lowered himself to one knee, keeping her upright, one hand firm between her shoulders, the other steady at her waist.
Up close, the damage was impossible to miss. Scraped skin. Bruising blooming dark beneath the grime. Dried blood crusted at her temple.
Alec's jaw tightened.
"She's running on nothing," he said quietly, lifting his gaze toward us. "Whatever kept her moving is gone."
The light dimmed, retreating inward, but it did not vanish entirely. It lingered beneath her skin, alive and unmistakable.
I met Seth's gaze.
Neither of us spoke.
We already knew.
I turned to Jamey. "Can you steady her?"
He leaned in from his seat, bracing one hand against the frame as the van bounced over uneven ground.
"Just a touch," I added. "Nothing more."
The humor drained from his face. Jamey nodded once and reached out, placing two fingers gently against the inside of her wrist.
The air shifted.
For a heartbeat, it worked exactly as intended. Her breathing smoothed. A trace of color returned to her cheeks.
Then her hand moved.
Her fingers closed around Jamey's wrist with sudden strength.
"Oh," he said faintly. "That's… new."
The pull hit hard.
Energy tore out of him in a clean, hungry sweep. Jamey stiffened, breath catching as his shoulders locked, eyes flying wide.
"Okay," he added through clenched teeth, incredulous even now, "I did not consent to being a juice box."
Light bloomed.
Gold flared first, soft but radiant, threading through the space around her. Silver followed, sharper and brighter, wrapping the gold as if answering a call it recognized. The glow spilled across Alec's arms, brushed my awareness, and hummed against Seth's presence.
Alec swore under his breath. "She's doing this unconsciously."
The pull eased at last. Her grip slackened, her hand falling back to her side.
Jamey dragged in a breath and flexed his fingers, shooting her a look that wavered between awe and accusation.
"You're welcome," he muttered. "And you owe me dinner."
Her eyes opened and then… her body went rigid.
For half a second, confusion flickered across her face. Then panic hit full force.
She looked up and found Alec inches from her. Her breath caught as she shoved at his chest.
"Who are you?" she gasped, voice raw.
She tried to wriggle free. When his arms did not release her immediately, she shrieked and struck his chest with surprising strength.
"Let me go."
Alec loosened his hold at once. "Please, calm down so that… "
"I don't care," she cried, beating against him. "Just release me."
Her eyes darted wildly around the interior of the van. Too many faces. Too close. The hum of the engine beneath her. Motion she could not control.
Then she froze.
She stared at all of us in turn, chest heaving.
"Where am I," she demanded. "And who are you people?"
Alec lifted his hands immediately, palms open, careful to keep her steady as the vehicle rocked. "Easy," he said. "You collapsed. I caught you."
"That does not help," she snapped. "Stop the vehicle. Now."
Jamey hissed softly. "Lady," he said, voice strained but dry, "if we stop right now and something goes wrong, our boss Max over here is going to treat you like an enemy instead of a friend. So maybe give us ten seconds to introduce ourselves."
She blinked.
Her gaze locked onto mine. "You're Max?"
I smiled. I did not need to ask how she knew.
Her body eased in Alec's arms. Without looking at him, she said, "I am calm. You can let me move beside you. Sitting on your lap is unladylike."
Alec flushed slightly. "I'm sorry," he said quickly. "I acted on instinct."
Silence settled.
Then he released her as she slid beside him. She leaned toward me, fingers brushing my knee lightly, as if confirming I was real.
I reached for her hand and kept it there. "What is your name?"
"Claire," she breathed.
I held out my hand to Seth. He passed me a water bottle, and I placed it in her grasp. She drank greedily, relief visible with every swallow.
"How did you end up out here, Claire?" I asked.
Before she could answer, the van slowed sharply.
Marcus braked and glanced back at us. "We've reached Crackstone."
The van rolled to a stop.
Before I could rise from my seat, Claire's hand shot out and caught my sleeve. Her grip was tight, knuckles white, fear flashing across her face again as movement outside filtered in through the windows.
"Don't," she said quickly. "Please."
I paused and turned back to her, keeping my voice steady. "I'll be right here."
Hannah leaned in at once, her touch gentle and grounding as she took Claire's hand from mine. "You're safe," she murmured. "Stay with me."
Claire hesitated, then let Hannah draw her closer.
I stepped down from the vehicle.
The air outside was dry and sharp, dust hanging low over the road. Seth and Alec were already moving, their attention outward, scanning the perimeter with practiced ease. Nothing obvious. Nothing immediate.
I stopped just outside the open door and turned back.
"Hannah," I said, "borrow her some clothes." Then to Claire, softer, "I'll meet you inside."
Claire nodded, still pale, but she did not reach for me again.
The moment my feet hit the ground fully, urgency made itself known in a far more mundane way. Relief could not wait. Hannah took position by the door, back straight, eyes alert as she stood guard.
Inside, the world narrowed briefly to necessity.
When I stepped back out, Adrian was there, close enough that no one else would hear. His voice was barely more than breath.
"We're being followed," he said. "Not close but deliberately. Seth insist that you hurry."
My expression did not change.
Seth appeared at my side almost immediately as I walked into the sunlight.
"There are too many civilians," he said quietly. "We move fast. No engagement here."
I nodded once.
Marcus and Jamey returned moments later, arms full of supplies, efficiency written into every movement. Water. Food. Fuel.
We regrouped beside the vehicles.
That was when I saw them.
A line of motorbikes waited near the far edge of town, engines idling, riders stretched out with practiced ease. Too still. Too deliberate. Their attention never wavered from us.
They were no longer trying to disappear.
They wanted acknowledgment.
Heat pressed down, heavier than before, crawling beneath my skin. The realization settled at the same time as the sweat at my spine. We were being openly pursued.
And in this heat, nothing about the coming fight would be swift.
Once everyone was seated, I leaned forward slightly. "Marcus, hold."
The van slowed just enough for the moment to breathe.
I turned to Seth. He was already watching me, jaw tight, silver breath coiled close. He knew what I was about to say before I said it.
"I need Alec here," I told him quietly. "Speed. Precision. I need you with the prisoners."
His gaze flicked to the road ahead, then back to me.
"The Breath can split if it has to," I added.
He nodded once. No argument. No hesitation.
He leaned in and kissed me, slow and unguarded, as if anchoring something between us. Then he was gone, already moving, climbing into the armored carrier behind us as the doors shut.
Minutes later, we cleared the edge of town.
The gravel road widened, emptying into open land where no eyes lingered and no walls listened.
That was when they made their move.
The impact hit the roof hard enough to rattle my teeth.
I shaped one thread, drew it thin and sharp, and flicked my finger upward.
The Flame punched clean through the roof, precise as a needle.
The scream came first. Then the man fell, clutching his abdomen as blood soaked the dust.
Three bikers pressed close on my side. Four more fanned out on the other.
I glanced back through the rear window.
The carrier was flanked by eight.
A single gunshot cracked the air.
I turned toward the sound just in time to see the shooter fire into the sky.
A signal.
Weapons came up in unison. Hannah, and Claire both grabbed Adrian in a panic and I saw the brief smile before turning to my right.
I smiled at the idiot hovering near my window, rolled it down, and smacked Alec's arm. "Get them, boy."
He was already moving.
Alec launched through the open window, hands catching the roof as his body twisted midair. His feet struck first, lightning flooding down his legs and exploding outward as they connected with the biker below.
The man folded instantly.
Gunfire erupted. And the girls screamed.
Silver flared behind us.
I caught a glimpse of Seth through the rear window as the Breath split and surged, afterimages tearing free through the armored carrier like living blades. Each one found a target. Shots went wild, panic replacing coordination.
Alec caught my eye again just as he wrenched another biker clean off his machine. They hit the ground together. Alec's knees drove into the man's chest and stayed there, lightning pulsing in controlled bursts as they skidded across the road in a cloud of dust.
Before the body stopped moving, Alec pushed off, twisted, and drove a kick into another rider, sending him spinning away from his bike.
On Marcus's side, two bikers closed fast. They weren't closing in. They were shaping where we would have to stop or go.
Marcus reached up calmly and crushed a bead from one of his plaits between his fingers.
Two samurai spirits tore free.
The first drew its blade mid-leap and cut clean through the air. The force of the strike sent the biker flying backward, and the second slammed into the second man just as he tried to wrench open Jamey's door.
Jamey was already leaning out, fist connecting with the man's face again and again.
They went down hard together.
A shot cracked too close.
The bullet sliced through the air toward Jamey's window.
The Flame surged past Jamey and braced itself against the window, translucent hands spreading to either side of the frame. Its head pushed partially through the opening as it screamed.
Two tones rang out at once.
One pierced upward into ultrasonic pitch, sharp enough to shred thought. The other plunged into infrasonic depth, so low it made the air shudder and the bones hum in response.
Sound collapsed inward.
Then it detonated outward in a concussive wave.
The bullet snapped off course, ricocheting harmlessly into the dirt as the shockwave tore past the vehicle.
The road filled with dust, wreckage, and groans.
And we did not slow.
The road split ahead.
Gravel stretched wide and pale before dividing cleanly into two paths. One bent left, narrow and worn thin by passage. The other cut right, broader, untouched, its surface smooth enough to feel intentional.
Marcus slowed the vehicle.
Twenty figures waited where the road forked.
Two rows of ten stood in silence, evenly spaced. Black trousers. Black shirts. Hands visible. No weapons drawn. No movement beyond the subtle shift of weight.
The first row held square devices in their open palms. Industrial. Wired. Out of place. The moment the engines idled, pressure slid into my chest, slow and deliberate, as if the air itself had grown heavier.
The second row stood behind them. Their hands were lowered. Rings caught faint light, emitting a fractured hum that crawled across my skin.
"Everyone out," Marcus said quietly.
Doors opened in unison.
Boots hit gravel. The air outside felt wrong. Dense. Reluctant.
I stepped down last.
The Flame shifted uneasily beneath my skin.
The door of the armored carrier slammed open behind us.
Seth was already moving.
He crossed the distance at a run, silver breath drawn tight around him as he reached my side. He stopped just long enough to draw in a sharp inhale and held it, shoulders tensing as though bracing against a current only he could feel.
"Do you feel that?" he asked under his breath.
"Yes," I replied. "They anchored it to us."
His breath slipped out slowly. Controlled. "They tuned it."
A low crackle answered him.
Alec swore softly. "That wasn't me."
Lightning slid from his boots and spilled across the road in a sinuous wave, rising and falling like a living thing searching for ground. It climbed, dipped, then snapped back on itself, sizzling as it unraveled into raw static. Sparks leapt like exposed wire, biting into the gravel before fading out in sharp, uneven pops.
Alec flexed his fingers, eyes tracking the movement. "It's trying to ground," he said. "There's nowhere for it to go."
Then Marcus stiffened.
His hair lifted as if seized by a rising current, each braided plait snapping and twisting violently as the beads woven into them began to rattle. With every pulse of vibration, a spirit forced itself partway out of a bead, clawing through the narrow mouth of its prison as though dragged against its will.
They emerged distorted and incomplete.
Terrible forms pressed outward, faces stretched in silent agony, limbs half-formed before the resonance tore them back inside. The beads shuddered violently, pulling the spirits in and out in brutal succession, never allowing full release, never granting rest.
Marcus staggered as opposing forces yanked at his head, the beads dragging his plaits left and right as if the spirits themselves were trying to escape in different directions.
Hannah reached him at once.
She braced herself against his back and wrapped her arms over his shoulders, pressing her weight into him to keep him upright. The beads continued to rattle violently against his skull, but the spirits no longer pulled him apart.
A sharp breath tore from Marcus's lungs.
The air around the beads vibrated with a deep, resonant pressure, like a tuning fork struck too hard and held in place. Light bent around each bead as the spirits surged again, their breath and intent straining for release while reality itself resisted them.
Marcus clenched his jaw.
"These devices," he said tightly, "were calibrated with something old."
The spirits were dragged back into the beads all at once.
My hand shot out to the side of the vehicle. The world tilted violently. Heat flooded my throat and I barely managed to turn before bile burned its way up. The pressure did not stop at me. It pressed lower, deeper. A warning rolled through my body and I folded forward, arms wrapping instinctively around myself.
Five seconds.
That was all they gave us.
Air returned in shallow pulls. Just enough to remind us how to breathe. Just enough to show restraint. They were not trying to kill us.
I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand and swallowed hard, forcing down water that barely stayed put.
Then the generators fully engaged.
The pressure slammed inward.
My back arched as the Flame tore free from my chest in a violent surge, only to snap back again, its lower half still tethered to me. It lashed out to my right, screamed, then was dragged back inside as if caught on a chain.
Seth grabbed for me. "Max, those devices must…"
The vibration hit him mid-sentence.
The Breath spilled out of him in jagged fragments, silver afterimages tearing loose in every direction while the core remained bound. A crackling sound split the air as he dropped to his knees, palms digging into the gravel as he fought for breath.
I dropped beside him, my own movement slow and labored, as if the ground itself resisted me. "How do we stop this?" I whispered. "I can barely move."
A scream answered me.
Raw. Broken. Too close.
I turned toward it and my heart seized.
Jamey was on his knees, both hands clutching the sides of his head. Blood sprayed from his mouth as he screamed again, the sound tearing itself apart. The air around him warped violently, gold and silver surging outward in uneven waves before snapping back into him a heartbeat later.
His aura was eating itself alive.
Each pulse slammed inward harder than the last, compression forcing power into places it was never meant to go. He gagged and coughed, fresh blood spilling as his body tried to reject what it could no longer regulate.
"Jamey," I cried, forcing myself forward.
Every step felt like wading through wet cement.
Alec tried to reach him too. Lightning burst from his arms in thunderous, uncontrolled surges and he froze mid-step, jaw clenched, knowing one wrong discharge would tear Jamey apart.
Jamey screamed again and slammed his forehead into the ground.
Once.
Twice.
Understanding hit me like ice.
He was trying to knock himself unconscious.
To stop it.
To make it end.
Then Claire moved.
She did not ask. She did not hesitate.
The pressure did not lift for her.
It pressed in just as hard, thick and suffocating, but it failed to bend her the way it bent the rest of us. Where our power buckled inward, hers held, contained, humming beneath her skin like a locked current waiting for direction. Her eyes blazed as light gathered from within, gold flaring first, then silver, weaving together until the glow around her sharpened into something terrifying and precise.
She reached Alec, seized his arm, and pulled him back toward us without breaking stride.
Then she was at Jamey's side.
She grabbed his arm and hauled him upright with strength that did not belong to her frame. "Jamey, listen to me."
He tore free with a strangled cry.
She caught him again. "Listen to me," she shouted, forcing his focus.
She bent close and screamed into his ear, voice cutting through the distortion. "Release it into me."
Jamey shook his head, eyes wild.
She grabbed his other arm and screamed again, louder. "Now."
Something in him broke.
His hand closed around her wrist.
Her back arched as everything he had left poured into her.
Gold and silver detonated outward, then folded cleanly back in. Her eyes rolled white for a split second as her hair lifted violently, power snapping into alignment around her. She rose from the ground, feet barely touching, and dragged Jamey with her before easing him down beside us.
Marcus and Adrian crawled closer, understanding dawning as Claire turned toward the men ahead.
The generators screamed.
Pressure spiked one last time, crushing inward as the devices demanded more than their wielders could give. One man collapsed. Then another. Then the rest followed, bodies dropping as the machines went dark in their hands.
The ring bearers stepped forward.
The vibration struck like a tuning fork slammed against the world itself.
Claire stepped in front of us.
She extended her arms and pushed.
She slid her left foot forward on its toes, hands circling, drawing the distorted resonance inward. Then she pushed again, sharper this time. She stepped right, repeating the motion, redirecting, returning.
The stolen power slammed back into its source.
Men were thrown from their feet.
Rings screamed as synchronization shattered.
Claire did not give them power.
She gave their power somewhere to go.
Jamey collapsed.
His body hit the ground wrong, legs folding beneath him as though the strength had been pulled clean out of his bones. The last trace of light around him flickered and went dark.
I was moving before thought caught up.
My knee hit the ground hard as I reached him. Fingers at his throat. Then his wrist. Too slow. Panic flared, sharp and ugly, before a faint pulse answered me.
There you are.
I bowed my head, breath shaking once. Just once.
"He'll live," I said quietly. The words scraped on the way out. "But I think he's in a coma."
The sound of it settled in my chest like weight.
This was Jamey.
The one who always complained about being hungry. The one who joked when fear pressed too close. The one who said he'd haunt us all if he ever went down first.
I eased his head to the ground, careful, almost reverent. My thumb brushed blood from the corner of his mouth before I realized what I was doing.
When I looked up, Claire was still standing. Light trembled beneath her skin, her hands shaking now that the work was done.
Beyond her, the enemy moved.
Men were getting back to their feet.
Something in me went still.
I stood slowly, the world narrowing to a clean, precise edge. "Alec," I said, my voice steady again, "stay with him. Watch his vitals."
Alec was already kneeling, lightning silent around him, his face set with a focus that promised violence later.
I took a step forward.
Stopped.
I turned back and looked at Jamey once more. The rise of his chest. The sound of his breathing. The proof that he was still ours.
That was all the grace they were getting.
I stepped forward again.
Seth rose beside me.
No words passed between us. His Breath tightened, coiling close, mirroring the fury I refused to let loose. Together, we moved as one.
We passed Claire as she lowered her hands, the last of the light slipping quietly back beneath her skin. Her knees buckled. She stayed upright.
Her part was finished.
Ahead of us, the men stood fully now.
And I decided how this would end.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
Every step forward leaves something unseen behind.
Some dangers announce themselves. Others wait until you think you are safe.
What comes next was always moving, even when no one was looking.
Thank you for walking with them this far.