Jake woke to pain.
Not sharp. Not sudden.
Heavy.
It pressed down on him from every direction, like the world itself had decided he'd done enough for one lifetime and wanted payment.
His first breath burned.
His second barely came.
He opened his eyes to a blur of white and shadow. Shapes moved above him. Voices overlapped, strained and tight.
"—too reckless—"
"He didn't hesitate—"
"I told him—"
Jake swallowed. His throat felt raw.
"Kale…" he croaked.
The arguing stopped instantly.
Her face appeared above him, sharp eyes wide with something dangerously close to fear. "Don't talk," she ordered. "You're alive. That's enough."
Flo hovered just behind her, hands clenched together so tightly her knuckles had gone pale. She looked worse than he felt—eyes hollow, shoulders drawn inward like she was bracing for impact that never came.
Jake tried to sit up.
Pain flared.
Kale shoved him back down without mercy. "Don't," she snapped. "You moved once today. That's your limit."
"What… happened?" Jake asked.
Kale's jaw tightened.
"She left," she said. "After proving her point."
Jake's memory stirred—white light, chains, Kale screaming.
Rika.
Jake closed his eyes.
"I should've—"
"No," Kale cut in sharply. "You did exactly what you always do."
He opened his eyes again. "Which is?"
"You stood where someone else would've died," she replied. "And paid for it."
Silence followed.
Flo spoke quietly. "If you hadn't stepped in… she wouldn't have stopped."
Jake exhaled slowly. "Then it was worth it."
Kale stared at him like she wanted to argue—and like she already knew it would be useless.
"You don't get to decide that alone," she said finally.
Jake didn't respond.
Because she was right.
Later, when the house had settled into uneasy quiet, Kale sat alone at the table, spear resting against the wall beside her. Her hands trembled faintly as she stared into her untouched drink.
She hadn't won.
She hadn't protected him.
And that failure cut deeper than any wound.
Upstairs, Flo sat on the edge of Jake's bed long after he'd drifted back into restless sleep. She watched his chest rise and fall, slow but steady.
Her fingers twitched with the urge to touch his mana.
She didn't.
For the first time, restraint hurt more than hunger.
And deep within Jake's consciousness—
Something watched.
Something adjusted.
And something waited.