Chapter 11.5: Behind The Scene
[Probending Arena, Night of the Attack]
Explosions rocked the arena, shaking the steel ribs of the structure like thunder trapped in a cage. Smoke crawled through the air, curling down polished halls now smeared with scorch marks and fallen bodies.
Clang!
The sharp ring of metal echoed, cutting through the chaos.
Clang!
Officers dragged themselves upright, pushing past the weight of defeat to rally what defense they could master. They didn't think of their injuries or casualties.
Clang!
But they didn't plan to win. Not for tonight. Their only goal now was evacuating the crowds and stemming the destruction. Buying time.
Clang!
Well, someone was fighting back, at least. That was… something.
Clang!
Sparks flew as blades collided in a narrow corridor lined with metal corpses. The walls, too tight for finesse, forced both fighters into a brutal, close-ranged exchange.
ZHEN
AGE: 19
STATUS: Fighting?
Zhen's breath came hot with pants, pieces falling from the edge of his shattered blade. His boots skidded across the tiles slick with blood as he twisted his body low, then surged forward with a sudden strike.
The clash of steel cracked the air again, reverberating off the walls.
Then an opening came. He drove his heel into his opponent's chest in a vicious, snapping kick.
The impact sent the masked attacker reeling, boots skidding across the blood-slick floor. Momentum had betrayed him, however, as a corpse underfoot sent him tumbling, landing hard on his back with a grunt.
Zhen's breaths came in ragged gasps, sword clattering as its top half cracked and shattered, leaving its silver trail behind. He advanced with slow, heavy steps, eyes wide as his mind blanked. Silence wrapped the moment like a held breath.
The attacker flinched, raising a trembling hand in panic.
"Leader! Leade—hold on!" A desperate voice broke through the tension. "They're gone! They're gone! We can drop the act now"
The hallway seemed to hold still.
Zhen loomed over him, blade hovering mid-air, breath heavy with exhaustion as sweat beaded from his forehead. Then he let out a slow exhale.
"Status report"
His blade dipped, but his gaze didn't soften.
The masked figure's relief was palpable, collapsing into a heap of breath and adrenaline. He tore the mask free with a gasp.
QORU
AGE: 19
STATUS: "PHANTOM"
His dark hair clung to his sweat-drenched face as he pushed himself upright, still catching his breath.
"Everyone's… everyone's pulling out" he managed between gulps of air. "Mask finished what he came to do… and gave the signal to retreat"
Zhen didn't nod, didn't respond immediately. Instead, he wound a length of metal wire around his forearm, each turn tighter than the last, until it bit slightly into the bracer around his skin.
"And our people?"
Qoru grunted, straightening with effort as if every tendon in his body threatened to snap. "The big guy's with Mask… and Sera's dealing with the Avatar and her friends with the Lieutenant"
"Good" Zhen gave the wire one final pull, making it taut. Then his gaze slid to Qoru. "You alright?"
A scoff broke through Qoru's wince as he pressed a hand against his side. "You almost killed me"
"Wouldn't be the first time" Zhen murmured, a ghost of humor haunting the flatness of his tone.
Qoru chuckled, almost quiet from exhaustion, as he sheathed his blade.
"This play is getting real old now" he complained, following through with the humor. "Pretty sure this'll be the last time we can pull it off. Who knows how many of our Equalists brothers and sisters will end up getting caught disguising as Officers"
"Doesn't matter as long as you three are safe" Zhen didn't seem to show any care. He turned away, focus already shifting. "For now, regroup with Sera and make way to our hideout"
"Which one?" Qoru asked, pulling a folded map from the hollowed-out shell of the broken mask he held. "Harmony tower? Or this one near the docks?"
Zhen leaned in, eyes scanning the circles marked across Republic City like phantom nerves. He pointed to one of the larger circles.
"Head to the one near the power plant. There's a few equipment there we need"
"That place?" Qoru blinked. "We don't have a tunnel that gets us anywhere close"
Zhen tapped the map again, this time on the arena, right in the middle of the building. "There's a sealed tunnel right by the pool. I rigged it the other day. Should blow in a few minutes"
Qoru just stared at him, the map crackling slightly in his hands.
He didn't argue. Just nodded once and began rolling it up.
"And you?"
There was no path drawn for Zhen. Well, not one Qoru could see.
"I'll be fine if I regroup with the Sato's" Zhen said at last, voice as blank as his stare. "My cover isn't blown yet"
He stepped past Qoru, a hand resting briefly on his shoulder.
"I'll see you later" he added before breaking into a swift sprint down the corridor, boots echoing against the stone as his figure vanished as he made a turn.
Qoru stood still, staring after him. He only gave a small nod. Giving him a quiet, almost clean departure.
And in the growing surface, one thought clawed its way in his mind.
'That's not where the Satos went…'
—————————————————————————————
Chapter 12.5: Unlikely Duo
[Sato Estate, Afternoon]
The sun hung high and heavy over the Sato Estate, casting a golden gleam across the pristine pavement of the private racetrack. Laughter and engine roars blended in the air, a cocktail of luxury and thrill.
Behind the mansion, the track buzzed with speed. Today was simply about spending the day relaxing, even if it's only for a moment.
Korra stood by one of the sleek Satomobiles, her expression equal parts excited and intrigued. Beside her, Asami practically glowed, tugging the Avatar's hand toward the passenger's seat at the back before deciding to take the wheel herself.
They climbed in. The engine purring like a panther in its cage.
Up in the shaded stands, three young men watched from different mental worlds.
One admired his reflection in a small pocket mirror, tilting it for a better angle beneath the sun.
The other two remained unmoving, simply existing amongst each other, eyes fixed on the track.
But none of them were really watching the cars.
"So…" one of them broke the silence like a slow drip into the still water. "...How's Korra been lately?"
The question sounded reluctant, like it irritated him to ask it—or maybe irritated him more that he needed to.
MAKO
AGE: 18
STATUS: Asami's Boyfriend
"She's fine" the reply came smooth, neutral. But it was polite. "And Miss Sato?"
ZHEN
AGE: 19
STATUS: Korra's Friend
Zhen didn't bother to turn. He leaned forward against the railing, posture relaxed, smoke curling from the tips of his fingers. The cigarette glowed briefly as he brought it to his lips, inhaling it like a comfortable warmth he trusted.
"She's doing great" Mako muttered, as if the words themselves scratched his throat.
Silence crept in between them again. Mako could feel the tension between them like a pulled wire, though it seems only he had that feeling.
Zhen didn't seem to notice—or care. He kept his eyes on the track with stillness, his only movement putting the cigarette between his lips.
Down below, the cars revved to life. Asami behind the wheel, Korra in the passenger seat behind her. The young Avatar leaned slightly out the side, her smile so wide it made the sun look dimmer. She caught sight of the stands and waved, the kind of gesture untouched by anything heavier than joy.
Of course, the two men waved back.
FWEEET!
The sharp whistle sliced through the open air, and in a flash, the two Satomobiles launched forward. Their tires shrieked, engines roared, their rubber carving the pavement like blades.
All three men tracked the takeoff with their eyes, heads turning in sync… and just as quickly, the brothers lost interest, drifting back into their own worlds.
"I'll be out for a moment" the younger brother announced, brushing imaginary dust from his sleeves.
BOLIN
AGE: 16
STATUS: Has Makeup on
His tone was casual, almost oblivious. "Need to wash my makeup off"
He tapped a finger against his cheek with an easy smirk, a joke only he appreciated. The other two didn't response, just gave brief, unbothered nods as he turned and sauntered away, leaving only the fading echo of his steps behind.
Silence followed.
Mako shifted slightly, casting a downwards glance toward Zhen.
There was something about the guy that kept gnawing at the edge of his mind.
A kind of dissonance.
He acted normal, composed… but something didn't sit right.
Each time they met there was a faint scent that clung to Zhen like a shadow. Familiar in a way that made Mako's chest tighten.
But every time he tried to name it, it slipped through his thoughts like smoke.
He exhaled through his nose, jaw tightening as he stood up. He tensed. And then, without a word, he stepped down from his seat to send beside Zhen, close enough to speak but just far enough to not actually talk.
Zhen didn't spare him a glance, but there was a faint flicker of acknowledgement that he was there. He made no move to speak, didn't ask why Mako suddenly felt like sharing his air.
Just Zhen being as polite as he needed to be.
And that somehow made it worse.
"What's Korra to you exactly, Zhen?"
Mako's voice wasn't sharp—it landed with a dull thud, like a blunt knife thrown at a stone wall. He wasn't exactly accusing him anything despite sounding that way. It wasn't even the right question he meant to ask.
He just… wasn't great at this. Despite the pride he held.
But it was the best he could manage.
"I don't get what you mean?" Zhen said after a beat, genuinely puzzled.
Mako frowned, crossing his arms. "I mean… you follow her around like a pet. You do whatever she says. Frankly, it's weird how you don't ask for anything in return"
Zhen didn't answer right away.
Which really only made it worse. Mako could feel his patience tightening like a belt one notch too far.
The silence wasn't dramatic, just… irritating. Like he was talking to a wall.
Finally, Zhen exhaled. His breath being replaced with soot.
"So… you're suspicious cause I'm being a nice person?" He tilted his head slightly, genuinely trying to understand Mako's logic.
And honestly, anyone else would've, too.
Even Mako, who had just said it, looked like he was second-guessing himself. His brow tightened as he tried to rationalize what he said.
"Just answer the question" he grunted, recovering quickly, smothering the crack in his confidence beneath a layer of practiced irritation.
Zhen didn't rise to it. He stayed quiet, tapping a lazy rhythm against the railing. He wasn't hesitating on his answer, he just didn't have one on the fly. He carefully weighed his words, even when he knew they wouldn't land where others expected.
The roar of engines tore across the tracks again. A blur of steel and sunlight streaked by, and for a moment, he caught a glimpse of the young woman in blue in the passenger seat, all grins as bright as the sunlight, laughing like the world didn't have teeth.
A breath escaped him—half a sigh, the other a smile.
"I'm simply looking out for her" he answered finally, tapping the ash of his cigarette into the wind. His gaze slid sideways after, sharp but not hostile. "What about you? What's the Avatar to you?"
The return fire landed heavier than expected, catching Mako off guard.
He blinked. "Well, uh… she's—"
His voice stumbled over itself, eyes bouncing everywhere but Zhen.
"She's a friend. Yeah" he managed, clearing his throat like it would clear his dignity with it. "A friend"
"Right…" Zhen echoed, his eyes gleaming in faint amusement as he let the word stretch just long enough to sting. "A friend"
The cigarette met his mouth again. Smoke filled his chest like kindling catching a flame. And then, with a long exhale that seemed to carry more than just breath, he flicked the last of it away.
"I don't care what kind of pedestal you put her on in your mind" he said, voice shifting colder. "But you're a taken man. You'd better know where the line is before you cross it and hurt yourself"
There was no shift in tone, no raised voice.
Then his eyes found Mako again.
"Or you hurt someone else" Zhen added, fingers tapping once on the railing.
Just once.
The sound echoed sharper than it should've, like a signal wrapped in metal.
"Whatever you think you know, it's wrong" Mako snapped with a low voice. There was no fear in it, just clear stubbornness. "You're clearly up to something. And I'm going to make sure to keep a close eye on you whenever I can"
Zhen exhaled a sound that was somewhere between a laugh and a sigh. "Sure, whatever you say, Bud"
There was no real push back. It was just the cool dismissal of concluding it wasn't worth the fight. And that only stoked the firebender's frustration.
Something about Zhen hit a nerve on Mako that he couldn't quite shake. Whether it was personal or not. It was a quiet danger that didn't scream. It was calm. Too calm. And Mako had learned from a young age that still waters usually ran deep.
He held a stare that was too intense, Zhen couldn't ignore it even if he tried to.
And he returned it without a flinch.
Zhen turned to him fully now. Tired of sideways glances. Just direct and steady confrontation.
"Look, I don't get what your problem with me is" he said, not unkind, but firm. "But you and I don't have to get along. You don't even have to talk to me. Just don't make your issue with me everyone else's"
It wasn't a peace offering. It was a compromise. A truce by necessity. And for Mako… that was good enough.
"Fine" he muttered, arms crossed like a sulking teenager.
"Good" Zhen nodded. "Glad we sorted that out"
With that, he stepped past him, as if the conversation had already evaporated behind him.
Mako barely even noticed that the hum of the race had gone quiet. There were no more screaming engines in the distance. The silence settled in before he registered it.
"Let's go get the girls" Zhen said, knocking a fist gently against Mako's shoulder. It felt friendly enough, but not familiar.
Then Mako caught it again.
The scent. But so clear this time.
Without the smoke, the ash. Not even the heat to mask it, it hit him clean.
Dried iron.
His stomach tightened.
It was faint, but distinct. A remembrance of the backdoor jobs he did with the Triad when he and Bolin were kids, after witnessing them going too far multiple times. When someone didn't make the payment by deadline. That metallic tang that soaked in the back of his throat and clung to his nose like a bad memory.
The smell of blood.
—————————————————————————————
Chapter 13.5: Small Talk
[Underground, Beneath the Sato Mansion]
It really shouldn't have been a surprise.
Leaving the rich girl alone in a shed with no means to defend herself? Of course it would bite someone in the ass. Unfortunately, that someone wasn't the duo that left her there in the first place.
It was her.
Now, she was surrounded by two hooded figures and one Equalist leading the way, and Asami Sato… was having a conversation.
Yes. A conversation.
ASAMI SATO
AGE: 18
STATUS: Captive?
"So… you guys are like… outcasts?" She asked, and somehow, casually.
"Ouch" The taller hooded figure winced, though his tone was more cheery than offended. "But not wrong, I guess"
Whatever this was, it definitely wasn't the typical kidnapping situation. Especially considering someone had been murdered in front of her just minutes ago. But Asami didn't seem fazed. Grace under pressure? Or just tired of overthinking? Hard to say.
The smaller hooded figure, clearly younger, bounced down the steps like it was recess.
"Why did your friends even leave you up there alone?" She asked, voice light, genuinely curious.
SERA
AGE: 16
STATUS: Just Really Curious
"They said it was safer" Asami replied, as if they were discussing a picnic and not a hostage situation.
Her voice had that effortless calm, the kind that made people want to lean in and listen—even if they were planning to kill her five minutes ago.
"Yeah, we see that's not the case at all" the Equalist said, turning just enough to flash a grin beneath his mask. He gestured to himself with a lazy flourish, short sword in hand like a simple accessory.
QORU
AGE: 19
STATUS: Isn't Supposed To Be Here
"Guess your saving grace was that that one vouched for you" he added, flicking his blade toward the back of the group.
They all turned instinctively at the thud of metal steps groaning beneath heavy weight. A looming figure followed in silence, each footstep bending the stairwell just enough to threaten collapse.
The air practically hissed around him.
"STEAM"
AGE: ???
STATUS: Knows Asami
The half-metal brute didn't say a word, not that he was being rude. He was currently being careful not to break through the stairs.
Asami tilted her head, brow raised in quiet curiosity. "Why'd you say I was special?"
A soft hiss escaped his gas mask before his voice emerged, muffled but still audible.
"Cause of this"
He lifted his arm out of his robe.
Metal groaned faintly as it moved. From wrist to elbow, the limb was encased in steel plating, held together with intricate gears and thick bolts. It was a mystery how he is able to carry this, considering it looked like it weighed several tons.
But what caught Asami's eye wasn't the crude mechanical bulk… it was the small glass tube running alongside the arm. Inside, a pale blue liquid shimmered softly, halfway filling the chamber like bottled lightning.
Her breath hitched. "That's…"
"Familiar?" Steam cut in, not unkindly. "Its your design"
"And not just that" Sera added, hopping into the conversation with impatience bubbling beneath her voice from how slow Steam spoke. "You dad used most of your prototypes to finish our weapons. You were basically the brains for most our projects"
The words didn't hit like accusations. More like quiet facts being laid bare… irreversible truths.
Asami couldn't even blink at the sudden truth.
Her body moved, breathing, walking, eyes focused.
But her mind short-circuited.
Her father hadn't just betrayed her. He'd stolen from her. Warped her creative designs—the small thing that connected her with her late mother—into instruments of control.
She wasn't just connected to the Equalist tech. She made the blueprints.
Her throat tightened. Her mouth left open, but no words formed. Just the crackle of emotion beneath her voice that never quite rose. And then, from the corner of one eye, a single tear slipped free.
Steam noticed. Unexpected for someone who looked the rough out of everyone there.
He placed a hand on her shoulder. It was heavy, but the effort at comfort was there. The weight of it was more metal than human, but it held a kind of warmth beneath cold steel.
"We're close" he said simply. "Every question you have for your father… ask him when we get there."
She didn't answer. Couldn't. Her legs moved without thought, carrying her forward past others, past Qoru, down the tunnel's dim slope.
The three left behind lingered in silence, watching her retreating figure.
"So…" Qoru was the first to break the quiet, his tone light being the only one unaffected by the revelation. "She's the fifth member you guys mentioned?"
He thumbed toward Asami, who drifted further down the hallway like a ghost.
Steam nodded once. Sera gave a sharper one.
"Her involvement was miniscule" she muttered, still watching Asami in case her knees buckled. "Leader didn't even agree to it at first. But the fat man said it'd be good as… 'collateral' when he bring her in"
The way she said it with no sympathy still landed like a slap.
Neither Qoru nor Steam needed the air quotes to understand how little thought had gone into Asami's feelings back then. A selfish plan, wrapped in strategy, made by someone who didn't care what it would cost her when she found out.
Still, no one said anything further.
Well, at least this wasn't a hostage situation after all.
Just a very, very weird reunion.
—————————————————————————————
Chapter 14.5: Right Decision From The Wrong Person
[Under the Sato Estate, During the Ambush]
The Avatar had been right after all.
Hiroshi Sato was indeed working with the Equalists.
The underground factory underneath his home was proof enough: rows of mechanized tanks, crates of weapons designed to ultimately hold bending power and counter benders.
But any satisfaction in uncovering the truth vanished the moment Equalists grunts ambushed them, locking them inside.
Two squads of metalbending officers, as well as the Chief of Police fought hard, their armor clashing with Equalist strikes in a haze of smoke and electricity. Korra and Tenzin provided support.
They had everything under control, while it was a fair fight.
Until betrayal struck from within.
Zhen turned on them.
He met the Avatar in the heart of the chaos, their clash a blur of sweat and sparks.
Korra managed to hold her own.
But it didn't take long for the edge of exhaustion to creep in.
The revelation that her closest friend stabbed her in the back wore her spirit down. And when she finally weakened, the grunts took the chance to bound her arms in reinforced cable.
Still, her friends managed to surge in from nowhere, trying to find Lin, Tenzin and Korra. Amid the search, Hiroshi had them found and cornered.
Until his daughter followed from the main entrance, letting his guard down.
While he was reaching for his daughter, trying to pull her back with words.
Words that felt like empty convictions.
Behind everything, Zhen slipped away with the unconscious Avatar.
ZHEN
AGE: 19
STATUS: Traitor?
With Korra slumped in his arms, sticking herself closer to Zhen. Her breathing was surprisingly steady, as if she was comfortable.
Zhen swept his eyes across the factory. Her friends had to have entered from somewhere out of sight.
And he found it almost immediately.
Barely noticeable unless you were actively looking for it.
It was an opening carved into the floor, tucked beneath an inactive mech suit. A tunnel, wide enough for an escape. A path out.
But he didn't plan on escaping.
"Qoru" he called, the name like a breath threading through the wind.
An Equalist was suddenly there, stepping from behind him like he had been following them all along. Twin swords rested across his back, catching only a flicker of light.
"Leader" the figure said, pulling off his mask in a fluid motion.
Fade cut hair fell into place, and beneath it, glacial blue eyes met Zhen's with unreadable clarity.
QORU
AGE: 19
STATUS: Has Been Following Them The Whole Time
"Get her out" Zhen ordered, shifting his arms to offer up the limp form he carried.
Korra stirred. Barely. A groan. A faint twitch. A subtle lean toward Zhen, as if her unconscious body was instinctively attaching itself to him.
Qoru blinked, pausing mid-motion.
He watched her for a moment longer than he should've, brow tightening in quiet confusion.
What went on in his leader's head, he never truly knew. He just sighed, resigned, and took her.
Almost instantly, her brow creased. Subtle, but her expression bloomed into annoyance like a ripple in clam water.
'Is this girl really asleep?' Qoru wondered.
He adjusted his hold, her weight heavier than expected as it settled unevenly across his arms.
"Why can't you do it?" He asked, casting a sideways glance at Zhen.
It was a curious question. Zhen was more than capable of doing it himself.
He also seemed to want to.
But the answer came cold and simple, the way Zhen always delivered decisions. "I need to finish things up here. I'll slow her friends down—buy you enough time to get her to the blimp and escape"
Duty. Even now, even like this, Zhen never strayed from his work ethic, clinging to it like a compass.
Qoru gave a quiet grunt. Somewhere between reluctant understanding and quiet disbelief. Korra shifted slightly against his back, her breath warm and uneven.
He hesitated. "Shouldn't we just give her to Mask and get it over with?"
His words carried weight. Though Zhen was their leader, he was still under Amon. And right now he wasn't following orders.
For a moment, silence.
Then, a crack.
It wasn't in his voice, but in posture. A faint tremor in Zhen's shoulder. The leather grip of his sword hilt creaked within his hand.
He let out a long exhale.
"Our job is to protect the nonbenders from how benders abuse them" his voice carried no fire. Just tired conviction.
He stepped forward, reaching out slowly, hesitantly. It was as if the very act required courage.
His hand touched Korra's head with a gentleness that was out of his current character. His thumb brushed her temple briefly. She stirred, leaning into the contact with a groggy murmur.
"The Avatar has no sins for us to judge" he said. But it felt like a line rehearsed for himself. A justification spoken into a void.
Qoru glanced aside, suddenly feeling like an intruder in something private. It felt… wrong.
The leader he knew of shortly wore layers of masked behind one another, emotional and otherwise. What he's seeing now, what he's avoiding to see, was too human.
Too real.
"Now get her to safety" Zhen ordered, his voice stiffening, the mask snapping back into place.
Qoru gave a shallow nod and dropped into the dark without another word, vanishing down the tunnel with Korra in tow.
Zhen turned the moment he was alone, dragging a long breath as if preparing himself for an attack.
Up ahead, closing the distance fast, Asami and Bolin, and behind the young earthbender, the limp form of Tenzin.
He stepped forward, dragging the tip of his blade against the stone floor, screeching its weight.
"Spirits… help her" he muttered, a rare prayer spoken like a secret.
—————————————————————————————
Chapter 15.5: Promise
[Republic City Police Headquarters]
Our young Avatar had already left with Tenzin, satisfied with the intel she came for, but broke down from the last words that were left with her.
Lin remained behind, drowning herself in finishing her resignation papers.
But neither of them mattered right now.
The real story was still sitting in the interrogation room. She looked small, quiet, and surprisingly calm.
SERA
AGE: 16
STATUS: Complicated
She'd helped the Avatar's friends escape the Equalists' grip the night before. Agreed to cooperate. Laid out her terms. And just like that, they were met.
So why was she still here?
The room around her hummed with the kind of silence only cold walls and two-way mirrors could produce. It wasn't exactly a cell. But she didn't feel free either.
Sera leaned back, her heel tapping the floor in slow rhythm, eye half-lidded like she might fall asleep.
Her fingers tugged idly at the frayed end of her sleeve, a tiny gesture lost in the static air.
'I hope you know what you're doing, Leader…'
The thought lingered like a whisper she couldn't shake. Not quite fear. Not quite faith. But it was somewhere in between, suspended in the stillness of that room.
She let a soft hum vibrate in her throat, as if answering the quiet itself. The room offered nothing back—no ticking clock, no rustling papers, no breaking screams or the sound metal piercing flesh. Just that sterile, pressurized hush unique to this closed space.
She didn't mind. If anything, it was a luxury. For once, no one was rushing her. And time, for now, was hers.
Then—
SKREEEEE!
A heavy hiss split the silence as a section of the wall peeled open. The tranquil dimness was swallowed by harsh, sterile light, flooding in like an interrogation of its own.
Sera squinted, one arm lazily shielding her eyes, the sudden brightness clawing at her vision.
Two figures stood in the glow. Their faces obscured by the backlight, silhouettes cast in long shadows that reached across the floor like they were trying to touch her.
"So you're his companion" said the soft-spoken one. It wasn't really a question. It landed more like recognition, as if she knew who Sera was.
The second voice followed, rougher, wearier. "Are you sure about this? We still don't know what her goal is. It's not safe to bring her with you even with your husband around"
A pause.
"I understand" came the reply, gentle but grounded. "But I have a promise to keep"
A dry scoff followed. "Whatever you say. I already filed the paperwork. She's all yours"
A sudden clack echoed through the room. The chains that had tethered Sera to the table gave way and slipped off her wrists, one link at a time. They dropped to the table's edge with a dull clatter, swaying once before falling still.
Warmth flooded back into her hands as she instinctively rubbed at the ghost of pressure the shackles had left behind. Her eyes blinked into the glare spilling from the opening, vision still hazy, shapes still unfinished.
"Are you alright, dear?"
The voice was no longer distant.
It was right beside her.
A gentle weight of a motherly touch settled on her back. The blur beside her began to take form: a woman dressed in flowing orange robes, hair tied neatly with grace.
But it wasn't the robes or her voice that caught Sera's curiosity.
It was the curve of her belly, round with life.
PEMA
AGE:
STATUS:
"Your name is Sera, right?" Pema asked, her smile calm, her presence somehow anchoring.
Sera blinked a few times more, wiping the bleariness from her eyes with the heel of her palm. Her throat dried when she answered.
"...You are?"
"Just call me Pema" she introduced herself, the soothing voice already letting Sera's guard down. "I'll be the one taking care of you from now on"
Sera stared at Pema for a moment longer than she meant to.
The kindness was… unnerving. She didn't feel like she earned it, and it didn't seem like it followed a price.
"Take care of me?" Sera echoed, visibly suspicious.
Pema's smile didn't falter. "I made a promise with someone you know. Just until things settle"
Her warm hand was still on Sera's back, like an anchor that didn't demand her answer, only making an offer she could decline. Sera hadn't known how tired she was until that touch.
She turned her gaze toward the doorway where an armored individual stood by, then to her own freed wrists.
The metal was gone, but the weight remained. Faint bruises clung to her skin, like faded ink on worn parchment. Yet what Sera saw went deeper, to blood that wasn't there, staining her hands in shades only she could perceive.
Not red, but memory. Guilt.
"I… I don't think—"
Her own words faltered. They fractured in her throat.
She couldn't finish the sentence because deep down, she knew. She didn't believe she deserved this. This freedom. This gentleness. Not after what she'd done—what she'd chosen.
And yet… she wanted it. That stung more than anything else.
She pressed her palms together, rubbing at her wrists as if trying to scrub the feeling away.
But it clung.
The weight of those she left behind. Her comrades who remained with the Equalists. Her hands trembled with the shame of choosing herself.
And then warmth.
It wasn't a metaphor nor her imagination.
Arms wrapped around her shoulders, gently pulling her into something soft and unjudging. The scent of herbs, the press of woven cloth, the calm rhythm of motherly breath.
"It's fine" came the murmur, soft as falling leaves. Fingers tracing lightly and pulling the strap of Sera's mask. "He'd want you to start anew"
No name was mentioned. But it didn't have to be spoken.
She knew.
The person who stood between her and the world's cruelty using his own. Her shield. Her leader. The one who always carried her forward when her own legs gave out.
Tears blurred her vision before she even realized they fell. The pressure of something long locked away beginning to crack.
She hadn't betrayed them. She hadn't run.
They had let her go.
They had pushed her forward, expecting her to not return, and still choosing her freedom over theirs. They'd given her the moment.
Sob Hic-hic-AAAH!
And with that understanding. From that realization, the dam inside broke.
Her guilt dissolved under Pema's embrace as grief and gratitude poured out in muffled wails against the folds of saffron robes.
And for the first time in what felt like forever, Sera let the hardness melt from her bones. The mask, the one she had worn for so long it fused with her being, it finally slipped with a quiet unraveling. She didn't resist the softness.
She didn't fight the ache. She surrendered into the warmth, into the kindness, into the grief, into the quiet possibility that maybe, just maybe… she could begin again.
End