The thought slithered in, uninvited and venomous. I had changed things. I knew I had. I existed where I wasn't meant to exist. I survived where I was supposed to die quietly. I interfered. I saved people. I gained power. What if this—What if this was the cost? What if the world was correcting itself?
Punishing deviation? I dismounted without a word. My legs carried me away from the others on instinct alone until I found a massive oak tree standing at the edge of one ruined village. Ancient. Scarred. Its bark split and weathered, but it still stood, stubborn and alive in a land that had forgotten how.
I pressed my palms against it. The rough bark scraped my skin. My breath hitched. Then I broke. Not a quiet cry. Not something elegant or contained.
An ugly, wrenching sob tore out of my chest, raw and violent, like something alive was trying to claw its way out of me.
