Clara woke to silence.
Not the comforting silence of morning, not the kind filled with birdsong or shifting branches—this was a silence that pressed against her ears, heavy and unyielding, as if the canyon itself held its breath.
Her throat was raw, her body aching as though she'd been dragged across glass. When she tried to move, her limbs refused, trembling weakly against the stone.
And then she heard them.
"…we can't ignore this anymore," Damien's voice was sharp, but low, like a blade unsheathed but not yet swung.
"She's still Clara," Evelyn shot back immediately. Her voice cracked with urgency. "You saw how hard she fought him—she didn't just roll over. She resisted."
"Resisted?" Damien's laugh was cold. "Did you see what we saw? Did you feel the fire, the blood, the screams? That wasn't resistance. That was him using her as a megaphone to broadcast his war through her body."
Clara flinched, her stomach turning at the memory. The smell of ash still lingered at the edges of her senses.
Zeke's tone was quieter, more thoughtful, but it cut through sharper than either of them. "If she's the tether… then it isn't just him reaching through. It's him anchoring here. Every time she loses control, that door opens wider. Eventually…" He hesitated, his words weighted with grim inevitability. "…eventually he won't need her anymore."
Clara tried to speak, but her lips barely formed a sound. Evelyn, catching the movement, was instantly at her side, brushing damp hair from her forehead.
"Don't move," Evelyn whispered. "You're safe."
Safe. The word felt like a lie. Clara's chest tightened, and tears pricked at her eyes. She wasn't safe. They weren't safe. Not while Yurin's voice still echoed in her blood.
Damien crouched beside them, his expression carved from stone. "Look at me, Clara. Don't lie. When he showed you that battlefield—was that the future?"
She froze, her lips trembling. A part of her wanted to deny it, to spare them, but the memory of Yurin's hand raised in command burned too vividly behind her eyes. She forced the words out in a whisper.
"…yes."
The silence that followed was unbearable.
Evelyn gripped her hand tighter. "That doesn't mean it's absolute. Prophecy isn't fate. He wants us to believe it is."
Damien shook his head. "It's not about belief. It's about leverage. The moment we hesitate, the moment we treat her like an ally instead of a liability—he wins."
His words cut deeper than any blade, and Clara's heart cracked under the weight of them. She wanted to scream that she wasn't a liability, that she was more than Yurin's shadow, but the memory of her dagger melting into smoke mocked her. What if he's right? What if I am just the battlefield?
Zeke finally broke the tension, his voice quiet but carrying. "If that's true, then we don't just need Clara to resist him. We need her to outthink him." His gaze shifted to her, unflinching. "Because like it or not, you're the only one who's seen the battlefield he's planning to build. That makes you our greatest weakness—and our only weapon."
Clara's chest heaved, the weight of his words pressing down on her ribs. A weapon. A battlefield. A vessel. Not a girl. Not a friend. Something else.
She turned her head toward Evelyn, desperate for something to anchor her. Evelyn met her eyes, steady and unwavering. "No matter what he showed us, you're still Clara. Don't let him take that from you."
Clara wanted to believe her. She clung to the words, fragile as glass. But deep inside, beneath the trembling surface of her soul, Yurin's laughter lingered.
And it whispered the cruelest truth of all: They don't trust you. Not really. And the moment you slip again… they'll choose survival over you.
Her grip on Evelyn's hand faltered. For the first time since this began, Clara felt truly alone.