I woke up full of energy.
Not just rested — clear.
My vision was sharp, colors crisp, every sound distinct. I flexed my fingers, then my arms, rolling my shoulders as my muscles responded instantly, smooth and powerful, almost at their peak. No pain. No stiffness. Just strength.
I squinted, a quiet smile tugging at my lips, and stretched every tendon slowly, savoring the unfamiliar absence of hurt.
"You're awake."
The voice pulled me back.
I looked up to see Sare kneeling beside Trace.
The smile vanished.
I was on my feet in an instant, crossing the cavern and dropping to Trace's side. "What happened?" I asked, worry leaking into my voice. "Were we attacked?"
"No," Sare said softly. Her voice was tired. Thin. "Nothing like that."
She glanced down at Trace.
"She spent the night healing you."
The memory surfaced slowly — hazy images of Sare wincing, her body sagging as she pushed power into me the first time. My throat tightened.
I lowered myself to the stone beside them, my voice hoarse. "What happened?"
Sare frowned, speaking low, careful. "It's her restriction."
I stiffened.
"Any time she heals someone," Sare continued, "or removes their exhaustion… she takes it. All of it. The pain. The fatigue. "Whatever she takes from you… she carries herself instead."
I let out a short, humorless scoff. "Guess I was pretty tired."
But my hands clenched as the weight of it hit me.
Every stab of pain from the Venomclasp.
The crushing exhaustion from the humanoid wolves.
The fear. The strain.
She'd taken it all.
My fists tightened, nails biting into my palms. "Why?" I asked quietly.
Sare looked at me like I was dense. "Why?"
Her frustration finally broke through. "Because you scared her, idiot," she snapped, throwing her hands up. "You collapsed. You weren't breathing right. She thought you were dying."
"I didn't ask for that," I said sharply — then stopped myself.
The words tasted wrong.
"…I'm going to wash up," I finished instead, the sentence hanging awkwardly between us.
I stood and walked past the cavern mouth toward the waterfall.
The roar swallowed everything.
I withdrew Hellhide back into my soul, the weight fading as I stepped beneath the falling water. Cold rushed over me, soaking my hair, running down my face, drowning my thoughts. I tilted my head back and let it hit me full on, breathing through it.
Who am I?
What am I doing?
What's my goal?
I'd promised myself a life.
But what was living?
I had nowhere to go.
Nowhere to belong.
No place to call home.
The water kept falling, relentless, uncaring.
Why did I feel like this?
What was I even fighting for?
I had no conviction.
So why did it still hurt —
even when I felt no pain at all?
I moved from the waterfall to the lake and lowered myself into it, letting the cold swallow me whole.
I sank beneath the surface and stayed there.
The world dulled, sound stretching and warping until there was nothing but my heartbeat and the pressure of water against my skin. Everything replayed again and again — not clearly, not in order — just fragments looping without reason.
The more I thought, the emptier it felt.
My chest began to ache, a hollow pain that spread slowly, like something had been scooped out and left exposed. My heart thudded unevenly, heavy, wrong. The water pressed tighter around me, against my ribs, against my throat.
I couldn't breathe.
Not because I was underwater —
but because my body forgot how.
A tight lump formed in my throat, thick and unmoving, panic creeping in as my lungs burned. The pressure kept building, squeezing, suffocating, until instinct finally took over.
I burst from the water, dragging in air in sharp, broken gasps. Water streamed from my hair and face as my chest heaved uncontrollably.
I sucked in breath after breath, vision swimming, head pounding.
I didn't understand it.
I didn't name it.
I just sat there, soaked and shaking, forcing air into my lungs and trying not to think long enough for it to stop.
After a while, once the water had finished running off my skin and the chill faded, I reached inward and called Hellhide from my soul, letting it form over me piece by piece.
The familiar weight settled in, not heavy — grounding.
I walked back into the cavern.
Trace was awake, sitting up and talking animatedly with Sare. Seeing her upright loosened something tight in my chest.
I crossed the stone floor and sat beside them, keeping my voice low — stern, but careful, as if speaking too loudly might break the moment.
"How are you feeling?"
Trace turned toward me instantly, eyes wide, arms moving as she spoke, a grin stretching so far across her face it looked almost ridiculous.
"Amazing."
I laughed, the sound slipping out before I could stop it. I leaned back slightly, teeth showing.
"Amazing? You slept through all of that."
She just shrugged, still smiling.
Sare watched us for a moment before speaking, her voice light.
"Let's give it one more day before we leave."
A small smile curled at the corner of her mouth.
"You can't hide that smile," I said, my grin turning faintly sarcastic.
She smacked my right shoulder.
"Ow," I muttered, though I didn't move away.
My shadow slipped free, standing nearby with its arms crossed, watching the cavern — alert, calm, making sure everything was as it should be.
I reached for Midnight and brought it to my waist.
For a second, I hesitated.
The hilt rested in my hand — white and cool, etched with gold — the blade still unseen. My grip tightened, then loosened.
The shadow noticed.
It tilted its head, then shook it slowly.
"Is something wrong?" Sare asked, leaning closer, concern softening her expression.
I slid Midnight into place and straightened.
"No," I said quickly. "Nothing."
I forced a small smile.
"Everything's good now."
After we talked for a while, Sare stood and stretched.
"I'm going to wash up," she said, already turning away. "Then I'm sleeping."
She left us there, the sound of her footsteps fading toward the water until the cavern felt larger — emptier.
Trace didn't look at me at first.
She lowered her head, eyes fixed on the stone floor.
"We're a team," she said quietly.
I blinked, caught off guard. "What?"
She lifted her head then, meeting my eyes.
"You don't have to leave us behind next time."
"I know—" I started.
"No, you don't." She cut me off immediately.
Her voice wasn't loud, but it was firm.
"You said it was the only option," she continued. "You didn't even let us argue."
Her eyes locked onto mine, sharp and intent.
"You aren't alone right now. It's the three of us. And we can fight too."
I exhaled slowly, trying to keep my tone even. "You guys don't even have weapons."
"So what?" she shot back. "We were both trained in hand-to-hand combat. And we're trying to survive too. Don't act like you can only trust yourself."
The words landed heavier than I expected.
She didn't stop there.
"What was your goal when you came to the Hallow?" she asked.
For a moment, something sharp twisted in my chest — brief, sudden, gone just as fast.
"…To survive," I answered.
The words came out flat.
Half-formed.
Half-hollow.
Even to me.