Steven’s POV
I did not remember opening the door.
I remembered Aqua.
Limp against the sofa.
Fang near her head.
Her wrist beneath my fingers.
Cool.
Too cool.
Wrong.
Then—
outside.
The French doors slammed behind me.
I stood on the porch for half a breath.
Shaking hard enough that my teeth nearly clicked together.
Behind me was Aqua.
Behind me was Fang.
Behind me was the room where I had finally seen what my careful had done.
I stumbled down the steps.
Steven.
Fang.
I kept moving.
Steven, stop.
“No.”
My voice barely worked.
Gravel shifted beneath my shoes.
The air was warm.
Wet.
Heavy with summer.
It should have felt open.
Instead, the whole mountain seemed to breathe too close.
She is alive.
That hurt worse.
I walked faster.
“She shouldn't look like that.”
Turn around.
“No.”
Steven.
“Stop.”
He did not.
Of course he didn't.
Fang had spent days warning me.
Weeks, maybe.
Watching Aqua while I kept finding reasons why we were still being careful.
Still safe.
Still in control.
His voice pressed through the bond again.
She needs you calm.
Something inside me snapped.
“Stop!”
I shoved back.
Not with fire.
Not with Amoris.
I didn't know what I used.
Fear, maybe.
Guilt.
The desperate need for one part of my head to stop talking.
The bond resisted.
Fang pushed again.
Steven—
I shoved harder.
And suddenly I felt it.
A boundary.
A place inside the bond I had never noticed because I had never wanted it closed.
Like finding a door in a room I'd lived in my whole life.
I slammed it.
Fang vanished.
Not gone.
Not severed.
Just—
silent.
I stopped.
For one terrible second, I almost opened it again.
Then I remembered Aqua's hand.
Her eyes barely fluttering.
The way Fang had said:
The giving.
I started running.
The training field appeared through the trees.
I almost laughed.
Of course it did.
The place I had been so desperate to reach every morning.
The place I thought would make me safer.
Stronger.
Better.
Now it looked like evidence.
Flattened grass.
Scorched marks.
Boundary stones.
Every clean line of fire.
Every successful release.
Every morning I had come here feeling better because Aqua had given me enough of herself to make everything easier.
I slowed at the edge.
Dylan's voice lived here even when he didn't.
Reset before the release.
Correct before.
Not after.
If something feels wrong, tell someone.
Not after you decide whether it is worth worrying them.
When it feels wrong.
I looked down.
The folder wasn't with me.
I had dropped it.
Beside Aqua.
My stomach turned.
“No.”
I kept walking.
Past the field.
Past the boundary stones.
Into the trees.
Branches scraped my sleeves.
Leaves cracked beneath my shoes.
Cicadas screamed overhead.
The house disappeared behind trunks and shadow.
Still not far enough.
I went deeper.
Far enough that I could pretend I wasn't leaving Aqua.
Far enough that Fang's silence stopped feeling like something I had caused.
Far enough that I couldn't see the field.
Then my hand struck a tree.
I didn't remember reaching for it.
Bark bit into my palm.
I leaned forward.
One hand.
Then both.
Head hanging.
Breathe.
I needed to breathe.
I dragged air in.
It caught halfway.
Again.
Nothing.
My chest locked around the panic.
“No.”
The word vanished into the trees.
My knees weakened.
I pressed my forehead against the bark.
Aqua's face appeared behind my eyes.
Her lashes moving once.
Barely.
Her hand in mine.
Her body too still.
Because of me.
“No.”
I shoved away from the tree.
“You did this.”
The thought came fast.
Sharp.
Mine.
It had to be mine.
Who else knew where to cut?
I grabbed my hair.
“You did this.”
“I thought she was okay.”
You wanted her to be.
“I stopped.”
You kept asking.
“I stopped when she went weak.”
After how many days?
My breath broke.
I backed into the tree and slid down.
My knees came up.
My hands locked behind my head.
“No. No.”
You saw her getting tired.
“I asked.”
You believed her because you wanted the answer.
“She said she was fine.”
She was trying to protect you.
I squeezed my eyes shut.
“I didn't ask her to.”
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You made her think she had to.
That one landed harder.
My stomach twisted.
Aqua standing behind my chair.
Arms around my shoulders.
Don't worry.
I'll take it easy.
I promise.
And me—
believing her.
Because I wanted to train.
Because I wanted the fire to work.
Because I wanted to feel good for one more day.
“I should've stayed.”
You should have known.
“I didn't know.”
You should have.
“I thought I was being careful.”
Look what careful did.
My hands pressed harder against my head.
“I promised.”
The forest blurred.
“I promised I wouldn't hurt her.”
You promised.
Something tore through my chest.
Not physically.
Worse.
A sound left me.
Not a sob.
Not a word.
Something between both.
I bent forward until my forehead nearly touched my knees.
“I didn't mean to.”
Intent does not undo consequence.
“I know.”
Then why are you still running?
“I don't know.”
Because you cannot face what you did.
“Stop.”
Because if you go back—
“Stop.”
—she will look at you—
“Stop!”
The thought vanished.
Everything went quiet.
Too quiet.
No Fang.
No Dylan.
No Aqua.
No voice except my own breathing.
For one second—
peace.
Then another voice entered it.
Softly.
Steven.
I froze.
Every muscle.
Every breath.
The voice did not press.
Did not accuse.
Did not warn.
It waited.
I knew it before I named it.
“No.”
Silence.
Then—
Not now?
My throat went dry.
“You.”
Yes.
Salizar.
The name moved through me like cold water.
I pushed myself harder against the tree.
“You've been quiet.”
Yes.
“Why?”
A pause.
Because noise would not have helped.
My fingers tightened.
“You mean helped you.”
And you.
I almost laughed.
Nothing came out.
“You don't help.”
That is not entirely true.
“You took my body.”
Yes.
“You used me.”
Yes.
“You made everything worse.”
This time, he waited longer.
Sometimes.
That should have made me angrier.
Instead, the honesty left me with nowhere easy to push.
My chest tightened again.
“I hurt her.”
Yes.
The word landed cleanly.
No excuse.
No softness.
No lie.
I shut my eyes.
“She was lying there.”
Yes.
“I did that.”
You contributed.
My head snapped up.
“Don't.”
I am not absolving you.
“Then don't make it smaller.”
I am making it precise.
I hated that.
Because Dylan did that too.
Made things precise when I wanted to drown in them.
I dragged one hand down my face.
“She gave because I asked.”
Yes.
“I kept asking.”
Yes.
“She was getting weaker.”
Yes.
Every answer hurt.
But not the same way my own thoughts had.
Salizar wasn't calling me a monster.
He wasn't telling me I was innocent either.
He was just—
there.
Standing beside the truth instead of throwing it at me.
That made his voice feel kinder than it should have.
“I promised I wouldn't hurt her.”
And you failed.
My breath hitched.
He continued before I could break around it.
Failure is not the same as cruelty.
I looked down.
“Doesn't matter.”
It matters if you intend to become better instead of simply punish yourself.
I laughed once.
Broken.
“You sound like Dylan.”
Take that back.
Despite everything—
a tiny piece of air escaped me that almost resembled a laugh.
Then guilt swallowed it.
“I shouldn't be laughing.”
Why?
“Aqua is unconscious.”
And alive.
My chest seized.
“Don't say it like that.”
Like what?
“Like that makes it okay.”
It does not.
Silence.
Then, firmer:
She is alive.
I stared at the ground.
Weak.
He continued.
Drained.
The word made me flinch.
In need of rest.
“Because of me.”
Partly.
“Salizar.”
You wanted precision.
I hated him.
I hated that part of me was listening.
“She wanted to help me.”
Yes.
“That makes it worse.”
Why?
“Because she hurt herself for me.”
She chose to stand beside you.
“Don't make it sound beautiful.”
It is not beautiful.
His voice stayed calm.
It is love behaving foolishly.
I looked away.
“She shouldn't have had to.”
She did not have to.
“That doesn't help.”
No.
Another true answer.
Another hook.
My breathing still wouldn't settle.
I pressed my palms over my eyes.
“I can't go back.”
Salizar said nothing.
That silence was worse.
“I can't.”
Not like this.
My hands lowered.
“What does that mean?”
It means you are shaking hard enough that you cannot stand.
I looked at my knees.
My hands.
Still trembling.
“So?”
So if Aqua wakes and sees you like this, what will she do?
I knew before he finished.
“No.”
She will try to comfort you.
“No.”
She will sit up.
“Stop.”
She will apologize.
My stomach turned.
She will make her own collapse smaller so you have less guilt to hold.
“Stop.”
And you know it.
I did.
That was the problem.
Aqua would look at me and immediately think I was hurting.
She would forget herself.
Again.
“She shouldn't have to take care of me.”
Correct.
I hated how reasonable he sounded.
“She needs me.”
She needs calm.
“I can be calm.”
Salizar waited.
I tried to stand.
My hand caught the tree.
My leg shook.
I made it halfway up.
Then slid back down.
My breathing broke.
No comment.
No smugness.
That made it worse.
“I can.”
Not right now.
My eyes burned.
Those three words hurt less than they should have.
Not forever.
Not weak.
Not useless.
Not monster.
Just—
not right now.
I swallowed.
“What do I do?”
Breathe.
“I am.”
Badly.
“Helpful.”
Again.
I inhaled.
Shaky.
Too fast.
Slower.
I tried.
Again.
The third breath reached lower.
Not enough.
Better.
Salizar waited through it.
Then:
You shut Fang out.
I stiffened.
“Don't.”
Why?
“Because I couldn't hear him.”
Could not?
“Wouldn't.”
Salizar understood immediately.
He was trying to comfort you.
“He was trying to tell me it wasn't only my fault.”
And you needed it to be.
I looked up sharply.
“What?”
His voice stayed quiet.
If all of it belongs to you, then you know what to punish.
That landed somewhere I did not want him reaching.
I looked away.
“You don't know me.”
I live inside you.
“That's not the same.”
No.
Pause.
It is worse.
I almost laughed again.
Almost.
Then the panic shifted.
Not gone.
Less sharp.
Enough for thought to slip through.
“What is Aqua doing right now?”
Breathing.
I closed my eyes.
“Fang's with her.”
Yes.
“He'll stay.”
Yes.
I thought about Fang near her head.
His yellow eyes.
The last thing I'd seen before running.
“He'll hate me.”
No.
“How do you know?”
Because that serpent has had countless opportunities.
My mouth twitched despite myself.
Then guilt returned.
“I should go back.”
Yes.
I opened my eyes.
Salizar added:
But not like this.
I stared ahead.
The words from earlier returned.
“If she wakes…”
You frighten her.
“If I start apologizing…”
She comforts you.
“If I panic…”
You make her collapse about your guilt.
My hands clenched.
“That sounds horrible.”
It would be.
I bent forward again.
“I don't know how to stop.”
I do.
The forest narrowed around me.
My body went still.
There it was.
I should have expected it.
I did.
Still—
hearing it changed everything.
“No.”
You have not heard the suggestion.
“I know the suggestion.”
Do you?
“You want control.”
A pause.
Then:
Yes.
The honesty made my skin crawl.
I pushed myself back against the tree.
“No.”
Why?
“You know why.”
Tell me.
“You took it before.”
Yes.
“You didn't ask.”
No.
“You hurt people.”
Yes.
“You hurt Aqua.”
That one changed him.
Barely.
A flicker.
Something old and unpleasant.
Yes.
My throat tightened.
“Then why would I ever give you anything?”
Salizar's voice lowered.
Because this time I am asking.
Silence.
I hated that the distinction mattered.
It should not have.
It did.
“You want me to let you take over.”
I want to go back to the house.
“With my body.”
Yes.
“And do what?”
Pick her up from the sofa.
My jaw tightened.
Put her somewhere she can rest properly.
“The bed.”
Yes.
“Give her water.”
If she can drink.
“Check her Currena.”
As best I can through you.
“And Fang?”
Will watch.
“He'll know.”
Eventually.
That answer made me look up.
“What does that mean?”
It means Fang does not need another crisis tonight.
“No.”
My voice sharpened.
“You're not tricking him.”
Salizar went quiet.
Then:
Fine.
I frowned.
That was too easy.
“You'll tell him?”
If necessary.
“Salizar.”
A low sigh.
I will not harm him.
“That isn't what I asked.”
No.
I almost smiled despite everything.
“You're impossible.”
And yet you are still speaking to me.
I looked away.
“What if Aqua wakes?”
The answer came immediately.
I will be gentle.
My chest tightened.
“You don't know how.”
A pause.
Then—
I know how to be what a frightened girl needs to see.
Cold moved through me.
That sentence felt wrong.
Too smooth.
Too practiced.
I should have stopped there.
I almost did.
But then Aqua's face appeared again.
Weak.
Half-conscious.
Seeing me collapse beside her.
Trying to sit up.
Trying to apologize.
Trying to take care of me.
My breathing started breaking again.
Salizar noticed.
Steven.
“Don't.”
You need rest.
“I don't deserve rest.”
That is why you are dangerous right now.
I flinched.
“What?”
You think guilt is payment.
I stared at the ground.
It is not.
His voice stayed even.
You think if you suffer enough, you can make what happened fair.
“Stop.”
You cannot.
“I know.”
Then stop trying.
My hands shook.
“I don't know how.”
Let me carry it for a while.
I looked up.
Something in the forest seemed to go still.
Not because anything had changed.
Because I had.
“What does that mean?”
Let me take the front.
“No.”
Until you can think.
“No.”
Until you can breathe.
“No.”
Until Aqua is settled.
I shut my eyes.
“A moment.”
Salizar went quiet.
The word echoed.
Only a little.
Only usual.
One careful day.
Just a minute.
A moment.
My stomach twisted.
“That's how this keeps happening.”
What?
“Small things.”
He did not answer.
“Just a little.”
Silence.
“Just today.”
Silence.
“Just until.”
Still nothing.
I laughed bitterly.
“You sound like me.”
Perhaps that is why you understand me.
I hated him for that.
I hated myself more.
“No.”
Then stand.
My eyes opened.
“What?”
Stand.
I stared at the tree.
Walk home.
My hands trembled.
Open the door.
I said nothing.
Kneel beside Aqua.
My throat tightened.
Do not shake.
“Stop.”
Do not apologize.
“Stop.”
Do not make her comfort you.
“Stop.”
Lift her carefully.
I gripped the tree.
Tell Fang you are fine enough to help.
“Stop.”
Look at her without falling apart.
“STOP!”
The forest swallowed the shout.
Silence.
I pushed against the tree.
Tried to rise.
One knee under me.
Then the other.
My arm shook so badly the bark scraped my palm.
I made it halfway.
My vision blurred.
My chest locked.
I dropped back down.
Hard.
My breath came apart.
Salizar did not speak.
That silence broke me faster than words.
“I can't.”
The admission barely existed.
Not right now.
My eyes burned.
I stared at nothing.
Not right now.
Again.
That tiny mercy.
The only one I seemed capable of accepting.
“I can't go back like this.”
No.
“I can't leave her like this either.”
No.
“Fang can't pick her up.”
No.
I laughed weakly.
“Very helpful.”
You asked for truth.
I rested my head against the tree.
“What would happen to me?”
Salizar answered carefully.
You step back.
“Where?”
Inside.
“I hate that answer.”
So do I.
That surprised me.
“What?”
Silence.
Then:
I know what it is to be trapped behind another man's eyes.
My anger flared.
“Don't compare us.”
I am not.
The voice hardened slightly.
I am telling you I understand why you fear it.
That stopped me.
For one second.
Then:
“You enjoyed taking control.”
Sometimes.
I swallowed.
“And now?”
A long pause.
Now I would rather be invited.
That sounded too sincere.
I didn't trust it.
That was probably wise.
Still—
I heard it.
“What if I change my mind?”
Then tell me.
“And you give it back?”
Yes.
“Immediately?”
Salizar hesitated.
Too long.
My eyes narrowed.
“Salizar.”
If returning control would not place Aqua in danger—yes.
“No.”
Steven—
“No conditions.”
Silence.
“That's the deal.”
If you ask for the body back, I give it back.
“Yes.”
Another pause.
Agreed.
I should have stopped.
I knew that.
I should have opened the wall between Fang and me.
Called him.
Turned around.
Asked anyone else.
But panic made the world small.
Salizar was the only voice in it.
And unlike mine—
his was not screaming.
“Just until I can think.”
Yes.
“Just until Aqua is settled.”
Yes.
“You don't hurt her.”
I will not.
The answer came firm.
Clear.
No ambiguity.
“You don't use her.”
No.
“You don't scare her.”
A pause.
I will try not to.
“That isn't good enough.”
Then I will not.
I swallowed.
“And you don't pretend this means I trust you.”
The faintest trace of amusement.
I would never insult you by assuming so much.
I almost smiled.
Then Aqua appeared behind my eyes again.
No smile survived.
“What do I do?”
Salizar's voice softened.
Stop holding every muscle.
I frowned.
“I don't know what that means.”
Yes, you do.
“No.”
You remember what it feels like when I take the front.
Cold crawled over my skin.
Unfortunately—
I did.
Fire.
Pressure.
My own hands moving while I watched.
My body becoming distant.
“No.”
This will not be the same.
“How do I know?”
You do not.
Honest again.
Too honest.
But I am not pushing.
He wasn't.
That was the terrifying part.
No pressure.
No heat.
No force.
Just the open door.
Waiting.
Breathe.
I did.
It shook.
Again.
I tried.
Let the shoulders go first.
My shoulders loosened slightly.
Hands.
My fingers unclenched.
Jaw.
I hadn't realized I was grinding my teeth.
I stopped.
The panic remained.
But the body holding it softened.
That felt dangerous.
Good.
Wrong.
Necessary.
Again.
I breathed.
The forest changed.
Not visually.
Distance changed.
My hands felt farther away.
My chest too.
Like I had stepped one pace backward inside myself.
“Wait.”
I am here.
“No.”
Steven.
“I don't like this.”
Neither did I.
I almost fought him then.
His voice became softer.
You can stop.
I froze.
That was the final trick.
He gave me the choice back.
And because he gave it back—
I believed I still had it.
I closed my eyes.
“Keep going.”
Salizar did.
Slowly.
No shove.
No tearing pressure.
Just—
space.
One breath belonged to me.
The next belonged less to me.
My hands rested against my knees.
I had not put them there.
The shaking eased.
I did not stop it.
The body inhaled.
Deep.
Steady.
Not my rhythm.
His.
My panic moved farther away.
Still there.
Still mine.
Just behind glass now.
“That feels…”
I stopped.
What?
I hated the answer.
“Better.”
Salizar said nothing.
That should have frightened me.
Instead—
relief flooded in.
Dark.
Quiet.
Smooth.
The first real relief since I'd seen Aqua on the sofa.
I sank into it.
The trees moved farther away.
My body stood.
I did not tell it to.
One hand touched the trunk.
Steady.
My legs held.
I watched through my own eyes from somewhere deeper.
Salizar flexed my fingers.
Once.
Slowly.
The movement made my stomach turn.
“Remember the deal.”
His answer came from my own mouth.
Low.
Calm.
“I remember.”
Hearing his voice aloud through me sent fear through the quiet.
I reached toward the front instinctively.
He did not stop me.
That reassured me more than it should have.
Then Salizar looked toward the path home.
My body turned.
He took one step.
Then another.
Smooth.
Certain.
No shaking.
No panic.
Exactly what Aqua needed.
That was what I told myself.
Exactly what I could not be.
The forest blurred at the edges.
My thoughts felt heavier.
“Don't let me disappear.”
His pace slowed.
For the first time, something in Salizar's presence changed.
Almost offended.
Almost hurt.
“You will not.”
I wanted to believe him.
That was dangerous too.
My body kept walking.
My eyes stayed open.
But the world folded farther away.
Trees became shadow behind glass.
Heat became distant.
Even guilt softened.
Not gone.
Wrapped.
Held somewhere I did not have to touch yet.
For one terrible heartbeat—
surrender felt like falling.
Then it felt like being carried.
That was the first lie.
My breathing deepened.
My thoughts slowed.
Salizar's voice came gently through the dark.
Rest, Steven.
I should have fought him.
I knew that.
I should have remembered Fang pounding against the wall I had built.
Aqua on the sofa.
Every warning.
Every quiet place beneath my fire.
Instead, I was tired.
So tired.
And for the first time since I had walked through those French doors—
nothing hurt.
I let the darkness close around me.
Because I was tired enough to mistake mercy for safety.
And because the kindest voice in my head belonged to the one person I should have feared most—
I listened.