Arin laid down his bleeding wife, her stuttering breath, her lifeless eyes, like a dried up tree in a drought. Blood continued oozing out of her, like water from a flowing river.
With rage, with fear, with agony he traced the carvings on the ancient stone tablet he found, he knew he had found the place, the place where his grief becomes his weapon, a place for revenge, to repay the world for its cruetly, for his loss.
His heart sank deeper into despair as he read the final line aloud. "Sacrifice thy beloved and he who shall grant thy desire shall appear."
***
Lyra woke up to the faint hum of hospital equipment and the muffled chatter of nurses outside her door. The place buzzed like a beehive, filled with cursed agents patched up from whatever nightmare they'd barely survived. Same as her.
She ached everywhere, bandages on her arms, stitches down her side, bruises blooming like ink across her skin. Her last memory was the fight with Goldie... and then everything going black.
A voice broke through the haze.
"Hey... how you doing?"
It was Goldie. She was lying on the next bed, just as battered. Her voice was low, cracked, tired—but steady.
"That fight," she said. "It was... an epiphany. I think I finally get you."
Lyra turned her head slowly.
"I used to think you were naive. Like I had to protect you. Like if I showed you how the world really works, you'd finally start seeing it the way I do. But that wasn't about protecting you."
Goldie paused, breathing through the soreness in her ribs.
"I think... I just wanted someone as broken as I am. Someone who shared my anger. Who hated the world like I did. But the truth is, everyone's got their own way of surviving. There isn't just one way to do it. And calling someone else's path 'naive'? That was stupid. That was me being naive."
Lyra didn't say anything. She just listened.
"You didn't believe in mercy," Goldie continued. "You believed Jacob didn't deserve to die. And you stuck to that. I called it mercy. Maybe it wasn't. Maybe it was just... your belief. And whether or not that's enough to survive in this world.. I don't know."
She let the silence stretch.
"But I'm willing to see how far that belief takes you. And if it ever stops... I'm still here. I'll always be here for you."
"Did you Google that shitty speech?" Lyra asked, squinting at her. "Wait—nah, you were probably practicing it before I woke up."
She smirked. "You motherfucker."
Goldie rolled her eyes. "Are you fucking stupid, Lyra? You want some of this again?"
"You wish, bitch" Lyra shot back. "Not after I leveled your ass."
Goldie scoffed. "Please. You were barely even standing yourself."
"Yeah? Why don't you crawl your broken ass outta bed and go get me some sush" Lyra said, stretching with a wince. "Yeah... sush and a Max."
Goldie stared at her. "What the hell is a 'Max'?"
"You know... Max Cola."
"Oh. Ew. Your taste is broken."
"And so are your ribs, Ogre." Lyra grinned.
"Hey, Lyra… seriously though," Goldie said, voice a little softer now. "I meant every word I said just now."
She looked over at her. "I'll be here for you."
Lyra held her gaze for a moment. "Yeah, I know…"
The silence lingered. Emotional tension hung in the air.
"But," Lyra said, raising a brow, "that speech though… What's your secret? Do you like… rehearse in the mirror or something?"
Goldie let out a groan. "Bitch."
"Slut," Lyra shot back without missing a beat. "Now be useful for once and go get me some sush… and a Max."
Right then, the door swung open.. and in came Michelle, sassy as ever, one eyebrow already raised like she was about to drop a roast.
"What the fuck were you thinking?!" Michelle snapped the moment she stepped in.
She pointed at Lyra first. "You! You helped Jacob escape, Jacob, the same murderer who killed Camille. And worst of all, you fought Goldie over it. Like seriously?! You broke us all apart."
She started pacing. "Why do I always have to be the only responsible one in this dysfunctional group? We'd all be toast if I didn't come up with that cover story!"
Then she turned on Goldie. "And you! Fighting Lyra like that? Extreme, much?! What, you thought you were in some action movie? Y'all really think you can just do whatever the hell you want with zero consequences?"
She paused dramatically. "And don't even get me started on that pervy idiot Spencer. The moron fought my precious Levi!"
Lyra and Goldie blinked at her, confused. "Wait, what?" Goldie said. "Spencer stood a chance against Levi?" Lyra added. "With his pistols??"
Michelle scoffed. "Yeah. He injured him bad. Levi wouldn't have survived if I didn't use my healing ability. That idiot Spencer actually gave him hell."
"Listen up, morons," Michelle growled, eyes sharp enough to slice concrete. "We never, ever, speak of this incident again."
She took a step closer, voice low and dangerous. "If even one word of this leaks out… I'll find out who did it. Trust me—I will know."
A pause.
"And when I do... I'll personally hunt you down. And you will not like what happens next."
She let the silence hang in the air, then snapped:
"ARE. WE. CLEAR. ON. THAT?"
Goldie rolled her eyes. "We get it, Michelle. You're the team's mom. We all suck. You saved the day. Blah blah blah."
Michelle didn't blink. "Say that again. I dare you."
But Lyra had already tuned out. She sank a little deeper into her pillow, deadpan.
"Shut up, Meningitis… and go get me some sush."
Michelle blinked "Wait what?"
Lyra didn't break eye contact. "Sush. And a Max. Cold."
Goldie snorted. "No. No way. Did you really just—?"
Lyra nodded slowly. "It's a condition now. Medical. Chronic Michelle."
Michelle muttered something under her breath, spun on her heel, and left the room with an unnecessary amount of door-slamming.
Lyra sighed. "...she better bring that sush."