Zara lay in bed with her back against silk cushions that smelled a little like lavender oil. Her left arm rested stiffly in its splint, the white bandages tugging a little at her skin. The medics had left only minutes ago, carrying with them the sharp scent of herbs that still lingered in the chamber. The ache in her arm had dulled to something she could breathe through, no longer the sharp fire it had been.
The door clicked softly shut behind the last medic, leaving the room quieter than she liked. Lila crossed the carpet with careful steps and settled into the chair beside her bed. Her eyes studied Zara the way they always did—gentle, searching, but edged with something Zara could never quite name.
"How are you feeling?" Lila asked, her voice low, steady.
Zara shifted slightly, feeling the tug of the bandages before forcing a smile. It came out more genuine than she expected. "I'm alright. The pain's bearable. They knew what they were doing."
"That's good." Lila leaned back a little, though the tension in her shoulders didn't leave. "Then you can tell me what really happened at Blackmere. And in the forest."
Zara's breath caught. Of course Lila wouldn't let that go.
She began slowly, at first sticking to the facts: the ruined town, the nightmare display in the square, the horror of realizing the villagers had been twisted into monsters. Then the words spilled faster. She spoke of the corrupted panther, of its sickly grace in the shadows, of the raw terror that gripped her when it lunged. Her fingers tightened unconsciously against the blanket.
And then she spoke of Jace.
"Jace was incredible," she said, surprising herself with the warmth in her own voice. "The way he caught the creature's patterns, how he shifted us into formation—he moved like he'd trained for years. He didn't hesitate once."
The memory brought a heat to her chest. She described how he'd used her divine blessing to cut through the panther's camouflage, how his speed had sharpened, how he'd driven the decisive strike that ended the battle. The images came alive as she spoke, her pulse quickening, her lips curving before she realized it.
"Without him, I don't think we'd have made it out. His improvement… it's remarkable. And the way he—"
Her words stalled. Lila's face had changed: a faint tightening around the eyes, her mouth drawn in careful restraint. It wasn't anger exactly. More like something she was working hard to keep buried.
Zara's stomach dropped. Heat crept up her neck. I've said too much.
"I just mean…" she stumbled, her voice thinner now, "I'm grateful. He helped me when I needed it. That's all." The lie felt brittle even as it left her lips.
Lila nodded once, slow and deliberate, then leaned forward to kiss Zara's forehead. Her lips lingered a fraction too long, the warmth carrying both affection and quiet reproach.
"You should rest," she murmured, already rising from the chair. "The herbs will work better if you sleep."
"Lila, I—"
"Rest," Lila said again, her tone still soft but final. She slipped from the room, the door closing with the faintest click.
Zara lay staring at the ceiling. The shadows thrown by the lamplight stretched across the plaster in shapes that seemed to move when she blinked. Her chest felt tight, her good hand pressing against her eyes as if to hold everything in.
How could I let it slip like that? The words had poured out too easily, as though the forest had stripped away her guard. She hadn't even thought about how it would sound.
The memory of Jace's lips against hers flickered through her mind, uninvited, and her stomach twisted. Lila didn't know. She couldn't know.
Sleep refused to come. Guilt and desire tangled together, each thought cutting deeper into the one thing she couldn't afford to lose—Lila's trust.
******
Jace's quarters felt larger than usual that night, the shadows stretching long across the stone walls as the sun dipped away. He sat with Nia by the window, both of them sinking into the kind of silence that meant something heavy was coming.
She broke it first. "Before we start," she said, her voice less sure than usual, "I need to apologize. For keeping my identity from you."
Jace paused halfway out of his travel-stained shirt. He let the cloth hang loose, his arms still caught in the sleeves. "I thought we agreed. No more lies."
"We did," Nia admitted, her gaze flicking just briefly to his chest before snapping back up. "But I wasn't sure I could. Not yet. Not with anyone."
He tugged the shirt off, tossing it aside. Weeks of training and the system's quiet nudges had carved new lines into his body. He didn't even think about it as he leaned back in the chair, but the lamplight made every shift of muscle obvious.
"I don't know what I'm supposed to feel," he said after a beat. "But I'm not angry. Just… curious. So who are you really?"
Nia drew in a breath, steadying herself. "I'm what you'd call like a super soldier. Enhanced by a god I can't name. My role was simple: prepare for the arrival of the chosen one."
Jace leaned forward, interest lighting his eyes. "Hmmm… Like a champion?"
"Not like that." She shook her head, the tension in her posture softening just enough to make her look younger. "Champions are far above me, stronger, with more divine power. I'm just… more than ordinary. Faster reflexes, stronger body, wounds that heal faster. That's what I am."
Jace stretched idly, his arms pulling wide as if to test the room's air. Nia's words slowed. Her gaze faltered.
"Why hide it?" he asked.
"Because I had to," she said firmly, though her eyes betrayed the flicker of distraction. "You know now, so keep it quiet. Can you do that?"
He nodded. "You have my word. But tell me something. You said 'chosen one.' What does that mean?"
"Not much that's useful." Nia shifted in her chair, her legs crossing, her voice more thoughtful now. "We were told we'd recognize them when the time came. No details beyond that."
"We?" Jace caught on the word instantly.
"Yes. Others exist. I haven't met them, but I know they're out there, scattered. Each waiting for the same thing." Her gaze flicked back to him, then away, as though she hadn't meant to let that slip.
Jace stood, retrieving a fresh shirt from his wardrobe. Nia's eyes followed him without meaning to, her voice faltering when the light traced the curve of his shoulders. He pulled the shirt on, and only then did her focus snap back.
"So," he said, fastening the last button. "What happened during the palace attack? I still can't picture you in the middle of that."
Nia blinked as though pulling herself out of a haze. "Right. The attack. That's… a long story."
She began to speak, her voice gaining strength as she described it, and Jace leaned back to listen. His mind turned over the pieces she had given him; hidden soldiers, divine whispers, and a chosen one whose face no one yet knew.
The world around him was deepening in ways he hadn't expected.