Awakening

  I woke up holding my breath, as if my lungs didn’t want to take in the air of this day.

  The room was still dim, bathed only in the pale blue glow of the emotional lanterns lining the corridor outside. The silence wasn’t complete—there was the low hum of the heating system, the whisper of old pipes, a distant engine. Everything moved with the rhythm of a base preparing for something irreversible.

  I stayed in bed a little longer, eyes fixed on the ceiling. I couldn’t tell if I had truly slept. Only fragments of dreams remained, dissolving the moment I tried to name them.

  I sat up, my bare feet meeting the cold floor. The chill helped bring me all the way back. I brought my hand to my side, tracing below my ribs.

  There it was.

  The scar.

  Thin, but deep. Still recent. Every time I took a deep breath, it ached as if something inside hadn’t fully closed.

  I stayed like that for a moment, suspended in that stillness that comes before any disaster.

  Then I stood, walked to the bathroom, and turned on the shower.

  The water hit me hard, hot but rough, like a rain that couldn’t decide whether to heal or burn. I closed my eyes and let it wash over me, droplets tracing every scar, every fold, every place where my body carried a story written in pain and survival.

  I washed slowly, as if I could make peace with the past one inch of skin at a time. My fingers lingered on my abdomen, right where the wound had become a mark. I didn’t want to forget it. I couldn’t.

  I had learned to bathe efficiently on mission days. But not today. Today, I took my time. Because something inside told me that I might not have that luxury again. That after today… things would only get harder.

  When the water stopped running, the steam clung to me like a loyal shadow. I looked into the fogged-up mirror and cleared a small circle with my palm.

  It was still me.

  Tired. Paler. Eyes slightly hollowed. But still me.

  And that was enough.

  I took the black uniform I had hung up the night before. Touching it, the fabric felt heavier than ever.

  I slipped into it silently. Adjusted the straps. Pulled up the zippers. Fastened the gloves with near-military precision. The fabric clung to my skin like it already knew where it was supposed to hurt.

  Finally, I pinned the identification brooch over my chest. The symbol of Seravenn glowed faintly, charged with the emotions that had seeped into it overnight.

  I took a deep breath. The air felt colder than I remembered.

  I stepped out of the room, and the sound of my boots echoed against the metal floor—louder than I expected.

  As I stepped out of my room, the hallway was dim, lit only by the soft gleam of the emergency lights. Each step echoed with a discreet cadence, as if even silence refused to let me pass unnoticed.

  I went up two floors. I didn’t take the elevator. I needed those extra seconds to sort my thoughts, to let my body adjust to the weight of the mission about to begin.

  The door to Velka’s apartment had a thin line of light escaping from underneath. I knocked softly, not waiting for a reply. When I entered, it looked exactly as I imagined: everything in its place, ordered, untouched by the chaos of war.Velka and Neyra sat on hard cushions, backs straight, hands resting over their knees. Caelia stood at the center, projecting a holographic map from a small emotional crystal cylinder.

  —Welcome, Lyss —Caelia said, not taking her eyes off the map—. Sit down.

  I did, silently. The room felt dense. Not from lack of air, but from everything that lingered unspoken. The map displayed the mountain range in real time: red markers flashing across narrow valleys, snow-blocked paths, hidden minefields.

  Caelia turned toward us. Her voice had that surgical calm that gave me more security than any battle cry ever could.

  —The front is contained, but unstable. Today, we’re entering through fissure 07-B, one of the least monitored but deadliest routes. The artillery is positioned at the heights. Our top priority is to neutralize it. Then we fall back.

  She pointed further south.

  —These are the tank squads. If things go sideways, we’ll have to cover our forces during the retreat. All of this should take no more than two hours. After that, we regroup to prepare for the Eiswacht operation.

  Velka nodded slowly, her eyes darker than usual.

  —The temperature can freeze emotional magic if it’s not channeled properly —she added—. Protect your channels. Don’t underestimate the cold. It won’t underestimate you.

  Neyra stared at the map with focus. Her fingers moved over a floating rune, tracing possible escape routes. Then she looked at me.

  —You’re going to be fine —she said, no more words needed.

  Caelia stepped closer, dimmed the projection, and knelt in front of me.

  —If at any point you feel like you can’t… don’t shut down. Don’t fight alone, Lyss. You have us.

  My throat tightened. I looked down at my hands on my lap, the mark on my abdomen pulsing faintly beneath the uniform. I slowly closed my fists.

  —I won’t fail you —I said, though my voice trembled.

  Velka came over and, without asking, took my hands in hers. Her warmth was firm. Almost stubborn.

  —As long as your grudge keeps floating… everything will be fine.

  And for a moment, I believed it was true.

  The military transport picked us up at the apartment complex gate. It wasn’t my first time boarding one, but that night, the cabin felt heavier than ever.

  The cold followed us inside, clinging to our breath like the war announcing itself before even arriving.

  We sat in formation. Caelia across from me. Velka to my right. Neyra on my left. All of us in perfect uniform, backs straight. But even so, the silence inside wasn’t comforting. It was dense. Pulsing.

  With every kilometer we advanced, I felt my chest tighten a little more.

  Not from the fear of dying—

  But from everything I hadn’t lived yet.

  Velka was the first to break the tension.

  —Breathe —she said, not fully turning—. Don’t just do it for yourself. Do it for us too.

  Neyra said nothing at first. She rested an elbow on her knee and laced her fingers, staring at the metal floor. Finally, her voice came, quiet but steady:

  —You don’t have to carry it alone. We weren’t born to be invulnerable. We were born to keep going… even when it hurts.

  In front of me, Caelia looked up. Her eyes were tempered steel, but never cold. She seemed to weigh the exact shape of my emotions before speaking.

  —Fear is fine, Lyss. It’s normal.

  —You feel it too? —I asked, without thinking.

  —We all do —she said calmly—. But that doesn’t mean we can’t keep moving. Fear doesn’t stop us—it just reminds us that what we do matters.

  I leaned slightly against the metal wall of the vehicle. The engine’s rumble wasn’t loud, but it filled every space. The kind of sound that sinks into your bones and marks the start of something inevitable.

  —What if I can’t do it? —I whispered. —What if I freeze out there?

  Velka placed her hand over mine. She didn’t speak at first. Her touch was warm, steady.

  —You already jumped once. You survived. You protected. —Her voice was firm, unwavering—. This time… you’re not alone.

  Neyra nodded.

  —If you fall, we’ll lift you. And if we fall with you… we’ll fall fighting.

  The transport began to slow. The lights of the hangar flickered beyond the hatch. The moment was close.

  Caelia stood up, adjusting her belt with ritual precision.

  —We’re here. From this point on, every emotion matters. But remember this: you are not alone.

  And for a second, the fear felt… bearable.

  Because we carried it together.

  The transport came to a stop with a soft metallic hiss. The doors opened, and the icy dawn air struck our skin like the world itself was warning us there was no turning back.

  We disembarked in silence. The aircraft’s engines were already humming — like a sleeping beast barely containing its breath. The hangar lights were scarce, more red than white, casting the concrete in a faint blood-colored glow.

  I was trembling.

  I didn’t know if it was from the cold seeping down my collar… or the nerves climbing up my spine.

  Velka stepped ahead and glanced at me sideways. She didn’t speak this time. She just placed a hand on my shoulder — a reminder that she was there.

  Caelia was speaking with the flight technicians. Her voice was firm, her expression unreadable. Neyra checked her equipment, murmuring a low anchoring chant under her breath. Each of them had their way of preparing. Me… I just kept breathing.

  We walked toward the plane — the same model that had carried us into our first mission. I remembered that jump into nothingness, the biting cold, the explosion that nearly took Caelia’s arm. I remembered how much it hurt just to breathe, how I wished for it all to end quickly.

  Part of me hoped this would be the same. Quick. Numb.

  But another part knew… nothing would ever be the same again.

  The plane’s doors opened with a sharp hiss. We boarded one by one. I was the last.

  Each step up that ramp felt like a full year. My boots echoed on the metal like funeral bells. When I sat down, the belt clicked shut with a dry snap that made me shiver. I clutched my legs with both hands.

  My scar burned.

  Not from pain.

  But from everything about to be unleashed.

  Caelia looked at us from across the fuselage. She nodded. And the doors sealed behind us.

  The world outside faded away.

  Now… only we remained.

  The aircraft vibrated beneath us like a living thing holding its breath.

  The hum of the engines deepened, and I felt the pressure shift — the sensation of leaving the ground was always more emotional than physical. As if the air itself knew we were no longer bound to anything safe.

  Caelia sat across from me, buckled into her seat, her eyes locked on the reinforced doors ahead. She hadn’t said a word since we left the hangar.

  Neyra was beside me, tracing invisible runes with her fingertips against her thigh — not spells, just gestures. Anchors. I didn’t ask what they meant. I didn’t need to.

  Velka exhaled, slow and long, her breath fogging slightly in the cold air of the cabin. She glanced at me, then to Neyra, and finally spoke — softly, as if not to break the balance inside the fuselage.

  —Once we jump… there’s no time to think. Let the emotion guide you. Just don't drown in it.

  Neyra gave a small smile, one corner of her mouth lifting, though her eyes were still distant.

  —We’ll land close. I’ll try to draw a protective field the moment we hit. If the snowstorm disrupts it, we stick to the plan. Nothing stupid.

  Caelia finally spoke.

  Just one word:

  —Prepare.

  My hands tightened on the edge of my seat. My uniform felt too tight across my chest — not from the straps, but from the fear.

  I nodded.

  The word lodged in my throat.

  Velka stood first. Then Neyra. Then Caelia.

  I followed.

  We stood in formation, the metal of the aircraft beneath our feet humming with the energy of war. Caelia gave no speech. No signal. She just lifted her hand — and we all closed our eyes.

  The transformation wasn’t gentle.

  My body responded to the call of the rencor, and orange light pulsed along my limbs.

  Beside me, Velka blazed in deep yellows — sharp and electric. Neyra glowed in green, almost ethereal, like a forest holding its breath. Caelia’s magic spread in cold, luminous blue, controlled and precise.

  No words.

  No room for fear.

  Just this breathless second before everything shattered.

  I still trembled.

  —Focus on me —Velka whispered from behind me—. And only me.

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  I nodded, the sound of my breath shallow inside my helmet.

  The red light near the hatch turned green.

  The doors opened.

  And the scream of the wind swallowed everything else.

  Mountain range, 8000 m above Northen Seravenn

  The cabin dimmed. Only the red lights above us remained, blinking with mechanical patience.

  No one spoke.

  Even Velka was quiet now, her golden aura flickering dimly beneath the surface of her armor, like a warning light refusing to go out. Caelia had her eyes closed, lips barely parted, not in prayer — she didn’t believe in prayer — but in a calculated breath rhythm. Neyra’s hands were pressed together, fingers locked as if holding her own heartbeat in place.

  I stared at the floor between my boots. The hum of the aircraft was constant. Too constant.

  It was the kind of silence that tricks your body — makes your pulse feel like a countdown.

  Every second felt like glass stretching.

  Then I heard it.

  Doom.

  A low thump. Not inside the cabin — outside. Far, but close enough to make the walls quiver slightly.

  I tensed.

  No one moved.

  Then again.

  DOOM.

  Louder. Heavier. The sound of giants exhaling through cannons the size of buildings. It wasn’t just noise — it was pressure. The very air shifted. My ribs contracted, and I gripped the harness bar without realizing it.

  Velka looked at Caelia. No words, just a sharp nod.

  A third impact.

  DOOM—!

  And then—

  A flash.

  BOOM.

  The side of the aircraft tilted with a violent groan as an explosion rattled the rear. For one second, I saw flame streak past the windows, orange against the navy sky. My balance vanished — my breath vanished — and the lights flickered.

  Panic. Pure and electric. My brain couldn’t catch up with what my body was already screaming.

  —Emergency jump! Now! —Caelia’s voice cracked through the noise like a thunderclap.

  The world shattered.

  My limbs moved on instinct, but my chest was caving in. The hatch slammed open — the wind howled like a beast. Metal screeched. I didn’t know if the plane had been hit or just grazed, but something was burning. I could smell it. Something bitter and chemical.

  Velka grabbed my wrist — just for a second — and her eyes locked with mine.

  —Jump, Lyss.

  No hesitation. No second chances.

  I ran.

  Or fell.

  Or flew.

  The cold hit like a wall of knives.

  The sky swallowed me whole.

  The wind lashed against my face the moment I jumped.

  The cold bit into my skin like knives, and the snow swirled around me like a white army come to swallow me whole. I forced myself to remember what Velka had taught me: focus the magic in your legs, let it flow, let it be your shield and your anchor.

  The ground rushed up like a threat. For a second, I thought I wouldn’t make it.

  But when I hit, I felt the magic cushion the impact, though my legs still trembled, as if fear had seeped into my bones.

  Around me—chaos.

  The roar of gunfire rattled through the snow. Orange flashes bloomed in the mist, screams echoed across the ravine: orders, pain, panic. There was no time to think. No room for doubt.

  —Move! —Caelia’s voice cut through the noise like a lighthouse in a storm.

  We were behind the allied lines, barely. We had to reach a command post, someone who could coordinate the strike. Each step reminded me that war wasn’t a distant spectacle or a boardroom strategy game—it was real. Brutal. Relentless.

  The snow under my boots was streaked with red. Every shot fired was a preview of what could happen to me if I hesitated. And even though I was a Magical Girl, even though power burned in my veins, the fear… the fear was human. And it walked beside me.

  But I kept moving.

  We advanced carefully between the gunfire, the crunch of snow, and the constant roar of cannons. Every explosion made my bones rattle. Caelia led us with sharp, efficient signals, and I forced myself to follow her even as my legs buckled beneath me.

  The trench came into view—a broken line carved into the snow, full of hunched figures, rifles, and hollow eyes. But before we could reach it, a shell landed nearby, tearing the ground open with a roar of fire and mud. I lost my balance, knees hitting the cold earth, my breath caught in my throat.

  I could feel the freezing dirt caked into my uniform. My hands shook as I brushed off the debris. When I stood, I met Velka’s gaze—part understanding, part urgency.

  —Move, Lyss —she said quietly.

  We entered the trench. It was alive with chaos, full of men and women who looked like they had become part of the mud and snow. Some stood at attention when they saw us, offering rigid salutes with hollow pride. Others just stared, eyes glazed, too far gone for anything but terror.

  —The goddesses are here! —someone cried.

  And for a moment, hope lit in the eyes of those who could still feel.

  I couldn’t look away. My heart thudded painfully. The scent of gunpowder and blood hung in the air. The noise—the cries, the gunfire, the low groans of the wounded—it all wrapped around me like a storm I hadn’t trained for.

  Caelia led us to a makeshift bunker: wooden beams, sandbags, a structure that creaked with every nearby blast. Inside, an officer waited, his uniform dusted with snow, voice hoarse from shouting.

  —Report —Caelia said, calm as ever.

  —Enemy artillery, three clicks out. Fixed positions. They’re chewing us up —he gestured to a dirt-stained map—. We don’t take them out soon, this line collapses.

  Caelia nodded, her eyes gleaming with the quiet steel that always made me believe things might still turn out okay.

  —And the tank division?

  —Coming from the east. If they cross that line —he swallowed— we lose this whole side of the range.

  Another blast shook the bunker. Wood splintered above us. I flinched—hard—and let out a stifled gasp that betrayed the panic clawing at my ribs. Velka looked over, quick, a wordless flick of reassurance. I didn’t have time to feel embarrassed.

  Caelia drew a breath.

  —That won’t happen —she said, voice sharp and final. Like a blade drawn in a quiet room—. The tanks won’t break through. And the gunners… they’re done.

  For a moment, silence.

  I swallowed hard and stared at the map, forcing myself to focus. Outside, the snow kept falling like a cruel lullaby.

  Inside, the bunker pulsed like a heartbeat before the strike. Explosions thudded in the distance, close enough to shake the floor. My breath was a trembling thread. And my hands... wouldn’t stop shaking.

  Velka grabbed my shoulders, her gaze as fierce as ever—unyielding and warm.

  —Lyss. Listen to me —she said, steady and low—. Keep your five senses sharp. We’re going into no man’s land. If you’re not present for every step, you won’t make it back.

  I nodded, throat tight.

  Neyra stepped in, adjusting the black mask that covered her mouth and nose.

  —You need yours too —she said—. They’re using paralytic gas. Doesn’t kill you, but it’ll fog your mind. That could be just as deadly.

  I tried to will the mask into place—channel the magic to my face. My focus shattered. The trembling wouldn’t stop. The usual second skin of rancor refused to take shape.

  —I… I can’t —I whispered. My voice cracked like ice underfoot.

  Caelia approached with precision, calm as always. She placed her hands firmly on my shoulders. Her strength wasn’t just in her magic—it was in the way she looked at me.

  —Lyss —she said, voice unwavering—. I can protect you. But not if you crawl. I need you focused. Remember why you’re here. Why you fight.

  The explosions outside were like monstrous heartbeats. My mind wandered to another battlefield, to another voice: Silke. Her cruelty. Her words… and the way she made me feel. I remembered the fire in my chest, the promise I had made to myself—that no one would ever make me feel that small again.

  I took a deep breath and let that resentment burn away my doubts. The mask formed, dark and tight, a second skin over my mouth and nose. Caelia gave a slight nod, her eyes flickering with approval.

  —Good —she said—. We’re almost there.

  Caelia drew her weapons: two black daggers, so thin they looked like strands of shadow. They were her personal daggers, invisible to enemy magic. In her hands, death became precision and silence.

  She stepped forward and raised an arm. From her fingers bloomed a shield of emotional light, as clear and solid as the ice on the mountain range. Her shield wasn’t just magic—it was the heart of our advance.

  —While we cover these first meters, stay with me —she ordered—. My shield can reflect even a tank shell. But I can’t cover us forever. At one hundred meters, we split.

  Velka brushed my arm with a quick gesture, a spark of warmth in the cold.

  —We can deflect anything —she said, with a crooked smile—. But once we’re separated, each with her own rage.

  Caelia looked at us, her voice sharp and clear as a blade.

  —Destroy the four artillery positions. Regroup to hunt the tank division. Return. That is the priority.

  —Velka, with you —she said, leaving no room for doubt—. Neyra, with me.

  Velka took my elbow and nodded.

  —Let’s go, goddess of resentment. Time to hunt monsters.

  I took a deep breath and followed her, climbing the trench. Every step was a defiance of the fear pounding in my chest. But I felt it too—the determination. That cold fire of resentment that kept me standing.

  The snow and smoke closed in around us, but I no longer trembled. Not anymore.

  We rose from the trench and the world exploded around us. The bullets fell like black rain, each one a whisper of death. The blasts tore up the snow, ripping chunks of ice and earth as if the mountain itself were screaming. The air was heavy with fire and smoke, and my legs trembled under the weight of every step.

  Caelia led the way, her black daggers sheathed on her back, one hand raised. From her fingers extended the shield: an invisible wall, curved like a protective wing. But it wasn’t a warm embrace like I imagined hope to be. It was a wall of ice and suspicion, a defense built not from love, but from the distrust Caelia carried within. That emotion—her certainty that the world would always betray her—had become the force that kept us safe.

  Every impact—the bullets, the shrapnel, the anti-tank shells—slammed into that shield with a thunder that shook my bones. The snow beneath our feet turned to mud and blood, but the shield didn’t yield. I saw the bullets bounce off and disintegrate mid-air, saw the blasts dissolve in flashes that died before reaching us.

  But every step felt eternal. We were barely moving forward, but in my mind, it was like walking through years. My breath was a hot thread in the icy air, the mask over my face tightening with every heartbeat. I wanted to run, to scream. But I forced myself to focus: hold on to the resentment. Stay calm.

  Velka looked at me, her eyes hard but full of determination.

  —Just a hundred more meters, Lyss —she said with that quiet certainty—. Don’t think of anything else. Just… take a step. Then another.

  The snow erupted in white columns with every nearby explosion. I could see the bodies of the soldiers—some so still they looked like ice statues, others hunched and trembling, their eyes fixed on us as if we were the last thing they’d ever see.

  I didn’t dare look back. Every meter was a heartbeat of terror, every step a test that I was still alive. But there was no panic in my mind. Only that dense feeling in my chest, like a fist that ached with every breath.

  When we reached the hundred-meter mark, Caelia turned her head, her voice slicing through the noise like thunder.

  —Separation! —she shouted—. Velka, Lyss, left side. Neyra, with me.

  Velka touched my shoulder, her gaze like fire in the storm.

  —Let’s go, goddess of resentment. No time to waste—

  We split. Caelia’s shield stretched out one heartbeat longer… and then we were alone, each team a flicker of light in the blood-soaked snow.

  I drew in a long breath, the cold and the fear filling my lungs. I knew I had to keep moving. That there was nothing else I could do.

  We were so close I could smell the smoke of gunpowder and blood mixing in the air. Every step felt like walking on blades, and my breath was a broken whisper behind the mask. I could see the enemy trench—so close I could almost touch it… but my body was trembling. The fear was still there, anchored in my chest, stronger than ever.

  —Lyss,

  —Velka said beside me, her voice steady—

  —Focus. Just a few more steps. Just… a few more.

  I closed my eyes. I searched for the rancor in my heart, but it was like trying to spark a flame beneath a frozen sea. Nothing. Just emptiness.

  Until something bit into my thigh.

  A sudden burn. A grazing bullet.

  It wasn’t my voice that screamed. It was my body.

  Pain.

  Rancor.

  I took another step. Another bullet sliced across my right side. The searing pain flashed white behind my eyes.

  More rancor.

  A third hit my leg. My knees buckled, but I didn’t fall.

  More rancor.

  Another tore into my shoulder. My skin burned. My tears blurred into the snow. But in that searing pain… I found it.

  Not fear. Not courage.

  Rancor.

  My rancor.

  Velka shouted something—her voice a distant beacon I couldn’t reach. Everything was noise, blood, fire. It wasn’t madness. It was clarity. For the first time, everything hurt in the right direction.

  I forced myself to walk. Not to dodge, not to resist—just to receive. To let every hit become a spark of rage. It wasn’t masochism. It was necessity.

  And when the hate filled me like molten iron, I let the magic erupt.

  The rifle appeared in my hands: a shard of black steel, pulsing with my rage like a heart that had just woken up. I aimed. I didn’t think. I didn’t hesitate.

  —Who dared?

  —I whispered.

  I fired.

  The shot didn’t echo. It ruptured the world. The enemy trench melted like wax, burned away by the dark fire of my magic. Wood, metal, bodies—nothing remained.

  I didn’t move. I flowed. Like a shadow made to hunt.

  Where I aimed, rancor led. The snow turned black and red with every step. The world recoiled. The rifle wasn’t a weapon. It was a verdict.

  Velka said nothing. She didn’t need to. She understood.

  When we reached the artillery, I lunged at the cannons like a predator. My hands weren’t flesh—they were dark flame devouring steel. Metal groaned, twisted, collapsed like soaked paper under ancient wrath. Velka moved beside me, silent and lethal, her blade cutting like the wind obeyed her will.

  Far-off explosions echoed in rhythm. Caelia and Neyra had done their part. We looked at each other. Only for a second. But that was enough.

  —Rendezvous point,

  —Velka said, barely a whisper.

  I nodded. The rifle still shook in my hands—not from weakness… but from hunger.

  We ran toward the next battlefront when Caelia’s voice exploded in the comms, urgency pouring through like ice water in my veins.

  —Multiple enemies in my sector! We can hold, but they’re slowing us down!

  I didn’t think. Something inside me—maybe some old shattered version—screamed that I had to prove it. That I wasn’t just fear.

  That I could be more.

  Velka grabbed my arm.

  —Lyss! Wait! Come back, don’t be a damn fool!

  Her voice trembled with restrained desperation. But I was already gone.

  I tore away and ran.

  The snow split beneath my feet. The cold no longer hurt. The tanks growled in the distance, steel beasts in motion, and I had only one thought: they wouldn’t advance. They wouldn’t breathe.

  I dropped to the ground, chest to the snow, its bite sharp against my stomach. The rifle was the only certainty I had.

  I saw them: the enemy division. Metal. Fire. Smoke. And a line that could not be crossed.

  I fired.

  Again.

  And again.

  Each shot was a dark roar that shredded the sky. Each bullet: a promise made flesh. Each tank: a tower torn down by a god of rage.

  —Move!

  —I snarled, teeth clenched, voice lost in the roar.

  Tanks ignited and exploded into black and green fire. Snow melted into steaming pools of magic and hate.

  I fired faster, harder. The rifle roared like a monster, and with every shot, I roared too. Not with fear. But with fury. With rage that burned my throat.

  When the last tank fell, I stayed still, breathing as if I’d run miles. The snow around me was splattered with fire and smoke. All that remained was the black corrosion of my magic.

  Then I saw them coming.

  Caelia, Velka, and Neyra ran toward me, their eyes wide with concern. The rancor that had kept me standing during the battle vanished in an instant, like someone had shut off a valve. And in its place...

  Pain.

  Real pain. The kind that came from every bullet I had let pierce me, just to summon my anger. The kind that burned from within, now that my magic had faded.

  I collapsed to my knees. The world spun, and a scream tore out of my throat, raw and unrestrained.

  —Agh…!

  The snow burned against my open wounds. My breath caught in my throat, fractured by waves of sharp stings.

  Caelia was the first to reach me. She stopped abruptly, lips drawn tight, her voice trembling beneath her usual composure.

  —What happened to her!?

  Velka dropped beside me, wrapping her arms around my body. Her eyes shone with fury—but also something else… something tender.

  —This idiot let herself get shot to stir up her rancor! —she hissed, half laughing, half crying.

  —Is she going to be okay? —Neyra asked, her voice carrying a fear she rarely showed.

  Velka looked at me, her expression a mix of affection and rage.

  —Yes… yes, I’m starting to heal her now —she said, pulling out improvised bandages with steady, practiced hands. But before anything else, she gave me a flick on the forehead—not hard, but I felt it down to my soul.

  —Don’t ever do something this stupid again, Lyss!

  Despite the pain, I let out a soft laugh.

  —I swear… never again.

  The three of them drew closer. What wrapped around me wasn’t magic—it was something warmer, more human. Even as the pain throbbed in every wound, I knew I wasn’t alone.

  And though I had proved something to myself… I never wanted to do it that way again.

  The air still reeked of gunpowder, blood, and snow. Velka applied the bandages with almost surgical precision, but every wrap stung, reminding me just how close I’d come to breaking entirely.

  Caelia stood in silence, surveying the devastation I had left behind. Her eyes were sharp and calculating… but for a brief moment, they seemed to tremble.

  —It’s terrifying —she murmured—. But also effective. If you can do this with just raw rancor… who knows how far you’ll go once you learn to control it.

  Neyra stepped in closer, nodding with a nervous smile.

  —It’s amazing, I admit —she said, and flicked me on the forehead just like Velka had—. But you could’ve gotten yourself killed, idiot! One well-placed bullet and not even Reia’s magic would’ve saved you.

  —Hey! Velka already hit me! —I protested, rubbing my forehead.

  —Wouldn’t mind giving you another —Neyra replied, teasing, though her eyes were still gleaming with worry.

  —If you two keep hitting me like this, I’ll end up more injured than I was from the tanks —I said, trying to smile.

  Velka chuckled softly, then gently patted my cheek with a tenderness that cut through all the rage from earlier.

  —Don’t worry, goddess of rancor. There are no bullets left that can reach you today.

  Caelia stepped closer, more composed now, though her frown lingered.

  —Let’s go inform the trench they can push forward —she said—. The mountain ridge is still ours. Then… we’ll call for extraction.

  But before she turned completely, she paused. She looked at me for another second and murmured:

  —Don’t do that again, Lyss… but if you ever do, make sure you’re not alone.

  I stayed silent, staring at the ground stained black with magic and blood. Her words lingered in the air—part warning, part promise.

  Velka helped me to my feet, gripping me tightly.

  And then we walked. All four of us. Step by step, leaving behind a line of fire… and heading toward the next.

  We returned to the trench while the soldiers looked at us with a mixture of reverence and relief. Some stood at attention with fists over their chests; others simply fell to their knees, thanking us with tears in their eyes. Their faces were covered in soot, sweat, and fear… and still, they smiled at the sight of us.

  I didn’t know if I deserved their cheers… or if they were just another chain binding me to this crown of blood.

  We passed through them in silence. A wounded young man lifted his gaze, and when our eyes met, he whispered:

  —Thank you, goddess.

  It hurt more than any wound.

  Caelia requested immediate extraction, and less than half an hour later, the helicopter appeared above the mountain range, cutting through the snow with its blades like a storm come to save us.

  As we boarded, Caelia placed a hand on my shoulder. She said nothing. But her eyes were steady, calm… as if giving me permission to rest. Velka, meanwhile, carefully adjusted a bandage that had come loose on my arm. She didn’t smile. She just did it with a quiet tenderness.

  I settled into the metal seat, feeling exhaustion crush my bones. Even the cold steel beneath me felt like a warm mattress compared to the war.

  Neyra sat beside me and gave me that smile of hers—the one that always seemed to hide something unspoken.

  —Sleep —she whispered, tapping my forehead lightly—. I’ll keep watch for you.

  I leaned against her shoulder, grateful.

  —Thank you, Neyra… —I murmured.

  She rested her head on mine too, and in that silent gesture, I felt something greater than war or anger. As if she were saying: here, you are not just a goddess. Here, we are sisters.

  The helicopter took off. The rotors tore through the air like a distant roar, and at last, my body gave in. My eyes closed. Everything went dark, soft, quiet.

  And as I slept, the snow faded behind me…

  But not the fire.