"I know there are people who believe you should forgive and forget. For the record, I'd like to say that I'm a big fan of forgiveness as long as I'm given the opportunity to get even first." - Sue Grafton (V is for Vengeance)

* * * *

~Zalfari; May 231~

"Where did they go!?"

"They can't have gone far!"

"Fan out! Find them!"

The shouts cut through the darkness like blades, rough and urgent, bouncing off the rain-slick alley walls.

Klein staggered back against the cracked brick, his breaths coming in pained gasps, his left hand clamped over the deep gash along his side that bled too freely. The sharp sting of it grounded him. But what really kept him on his feet was the sound of boots slamming into pavement. And getting closer.

He turned toward the others.

Two figures crouched low beside the alley wall, barely visible in the dim streetlight that filtered through the gap above. One of them—Letha, pressed a trembling hand to her mouth, trying not to make a sound. The other was bleeding from a nasty cut above his brow, his clothes slashed and torn, his breathing shallow and ragged.

All of them were on edge, their faces pale and slick with rain and fear.

The hunters had descended on Zalfari like a plague. No warning. No mercy. Just the cold efficiency of men and women trained to hunt people like Letha—to hunt the Gifted.

And like Blade before them, Klein knew exactly how this would end if they didn't act fast.

He'd seen it coming. After Blade fell, there was only a matter of time before Zalfari—the last halfway-safe place for the underground, found itself in the crosshairs. No matter what it stood for, no matter how deep their loyalty to each other ran, the hunters didn't care. They never had.

Klein's hand pressed harder against his wound as he hissed in frustration. He had already sent an emergency message to the Premier the moment the attack began, but he knew—help would come too late, if it came at all.

"Boss," The bleeding man whispered, barely able to speak through the pain. "We have to move. Now. At least get her out." He nodded toward Letha. "They're after her. That much is clear."

Klein's eyes flickered toward the pale-haired girl. Letha was visibly trembling, her pale blue eyes wide with guilt and horror, her expression a mixture of panic and shame.

"…Maybe if I give myself up—"

"No." The word cracked from both men like gunfire, sharp and absolute.

"Don't even think that," Klein growled, tearing a strip from the hem of his already-ruined shirt to wrap around his wounded hand. "You think they'll spare you? They didn't spare the rest. And they sure as hell won't spare you."

"She's right to be scared," The other said quietly. "But she's wrong to think it would change anything. You know what they did to Blade, Letha. Half of Blade's crew were Normals. And they got slaughtered all the same."

The memory hit her like a punch. Blade—once the unshakable symbol of strength in the underground, had been wiped out almost overnight. No warning. No survivors, or so everyone believed. Some whispered that the leader had vanished, others that she had died with her crew.

But Klein had always believed otherwise.

Maybe it was just stubbornness. Or maybe… Maybe it was something more. A hunch. A loyalty that ran deeper than anyone knew.

"You think this is your fault?" Klein asked, fixing Letha with a look that stopped her breath cold. "You think you led them here? Don't be so arrogant. The hunters were always going to come for Zalfari. You just gave them an excuse."

"…Boss," The other Whirlwind member spoke again, quieter this time. But there was fire beneath the words. "Let me go out. I'll draw them away. Buy you time."

Klein's jaw tightened. "Don't be an idiot."

"No one gets left behind," The younger man snapped. "We're Whirlwind. Not Dragonfly. We don't sell out our own. That's the one damn rule we never break."

Letha shook her head violently, panic rising in her throat. "I can't let you die for me—!"

"Shut it," The man barked, not unkindly. "You don't get to tell me how I die. None of us get to choose how we live out here, Letha, but if I go down protecting you? That's a damn honour." He gave her a crooked smile, soaked in blood and defiance. "We always said it, didn't we? In Eldario, especially in the underground, you're not remembered by how you lived. You're remembered by how you die."

Klein's chest twisted painfully, but he nodded.

The man turned to him. "Boss… Get her out. That's an order."

Before either of them could stop him, the Whirlwind fighter darted into the open street, yelling and drawing attention. Gunshots rang out seconds later. Voices followed, barking orders, and boots pounding in pursuit.

Letha stared after him in stunned silence, her eyes brimming. "I… I should have never come here…"

Klein gritted his teeth. "Stop. That. Right. Now."

"You should've just left me—"

"No," Klein growled. "We don't leave our own. We don't throw our people to the wolves. Not now. Not ever. You think we took you in just to give you up when it got hard? You think we didn't know what you were? Of course we did. And we still chose you." His voice dropped, thick with pain, and something softer. "You've got more power than half the Gifted I've ever seen. And that scares people, yeah. But not us. You're one of us, Letha. You always were."

"I didn't mean for any of this—"

"I know."

There was a pause. Then Klein reached out, brushing his fingers along her cheek and cupping her face gently. "…Maybe, if this had been a different time, I'd have asked for more," he murmured, his eyes searching hers. "You and me. A different life." He leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to her lips—brief, quiet, and full of everything he didn't say. Then he pulled back, hands trembling. "But there's no time for that now. Go."

"But—"

"Go." Klein shoved her gently toward the backdoor. "Graveyard's close. Use your Gift. Make them regret ever stepping foot in Zalfari."

Letha hesitated only a moment longer, then nodded, her eyes glowing faintly with a glimmer of her latent power.

She ducked through the back exit, vanishing into the dark—toward the one place where her Gift would make her untouchable. Toward the dead.

Klein turned back toward the open alley, limping forward. The rain fell harder now, soaking through the blood already clinging to his jacket.

He smiled bitterly.

If this was how he died, then at least it would be for something worth remembering.

With the rain beginning to fall in earnest, Klein could already hear the sharp rhythm of boots slapping against slick pavement—the unmistakable march of death closing in.

The sound echoed between the alley walls like a drumbeat to the end of the world. He exhaled slowly, biting back the groan that tried to escape as another bolt of pain lanced through his side. Blood soaked through his fingers, hot and fast and unrelenting.

"…Damn. Would've killed for one last smoke," he muttered, half-laughing under his breath, the sound bitter and hollow as he slumped against the cold brick behind him. His free hand fumbled at his pocket, dragging out a battered phone with a screen half-cracked down the middle. His thumb hovered over a contact that hadn't been touched in months—never even confirmed until now.

And yet… Something told him she'd answer.

He dialled. It barely rang twice before the line clicked alive.

"What in the—?! Klein?! The hell did you get this number?! And how in the name of the Goddess do you know I'm still alive?"

Klein chuckled weakly, closing his eyes against the stars that flickered in his vision. "Yeah… Knew it was you. Voice hasn't changed much. Ethan owed me a favour. Dug the number outta wherever he keeps all his secrets. Figured you might be breathing still after Dragonfly got wiped off the map. You were always the one with too much grit to die easy."

There was a heavy pause on the other end. Tension. Shock. Fear maybe.

"…Klein, what's happening? What's going on?"

"I think…" Klein coughed, the sound rough and wet. "I think Whirlwind's about to fall. Just like Blade did." The words tasted like rust. "Zalfari's compromised. The hunters came in hard, no warning. No mercy. They're everywhere, slaughtering anyone who even looks like they might be Gifted. Hell, even Normals like us didn't stand a chance."

The silence on the line shifted, with frozen horror bleeding through.

"Sera, I need you to do something for me. Two things. Please."

"Anything," she said immediately, her voice taut.

Klein blinked slowly, watching the blood drip from his fingertips. His body was shutting down. It wouldn't be long now.

"Tell the Premier… I'm sorry. I did everything I could. But I couldn't stop them. Zalfari needs someone else now. A real guardian. Someone who won't fail."

A shaky breath.

"My second favour… It's more important. There's a girl. Her name's Letha Joyner. She's a Gifted, but it's more than that. She's… She's something they're afraid of. They want her, Sera. Bad. I don't know why. But whatever it is, I can't let them have her. Promise me… Promise you'll keep her safe."

"Klein—"

"She's only nineteen," He choked out. "Scared out of her damn mind. Blames herself for all of this. But it's not her fault. She didn't ask for this. None of us did. Please…protect her. However you have to. Even if I'm gone, let my last debt go toward keeping her alive."

"Klein, wait, please—"

But he didn't. He didn't let her finish. He couldn't.

His thumb hit end call before the last syllable reached him. The silence that followed was deafening. The phone slipped from his fingers and clattered to the wet ground, its screen flickering once before it went dark for good.

Klein closed his eyes for a moment, breathing in the scent of rain and blood and crumbling concrete. Then he stood, slowly and agonisingly, drawing his gun with trembling fingers and snapping the safety off. The metal was cold in his hands, steadying.

He took a breath, muttered a prayer beneath his breath—words passed down from the old gods of the street.

"The Goddess be with me. And if not… Then let her watch."

Then Klein stepped out from the mouth of the alley, into the open street.

The hunters were closing in, their black-armoured forms materialising through the mist and rain like wraiths. His stance tightened, pain radiating through his ribs like fire. But he didn't flinch.

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"All right, you bastards," Klein growled, raising his weapon with both hands. "Let's see what you're made of."

He wasn't expecting to win. Not even to survive.

But if it gave Letha time… Even a minute more…

It was worth it.

His thoughts flicked to her one last time—light-haired, pale-eyed, terrified out of her mind but still standing. Still fighting. Still trying.

'Letha… Don't let them win. Please. Just stay alive.'

* * * *

"—reports of hunter activity is rising—"

The news had barely finished delivering its grim verdict when Timo reached out and switched off the television, the static hum vanishing into the soft patter of rain beyond the café windows.

The newscaster's voice still rang in their ears—yet another report of increasing hunter activity, another nail in the coffin of whatever peace still flickered in Eldario's underground.

None of them said anything at first. Rain lashed the windows in rhythmic beats, as if the world itself had grown impatient. The café, usually warm with chatter, felt colder and tighter. Almost suffocating.

Sera sat hunched over her cup, steam curling upwards, untouched. Her fingers trembled slightly where they curled around the porcelain. Timo moved behind the counter with a grim expression, wiping clean the already spotless surface, though his eyes lingered on Sera longer than necessary.

"This is getting out of hand," Laura muttered darkly, her gaze hard on the swirling surface of her coffee. "We need to move. Do something. Sitting here's not going to change a damn thing."

No one responded immediately. Their silence wasn't apathy. It was tension, thick and stifling, like the moment before a storm breaks.

Sera finally set her cup down. She stared straight ahead. Her voice came out flat. "I think I get it now. Why they came for Blade. Over a year ago."

Raul, seated beside her, caught the flicker in her expression. For a second, just a second, he saw the girl from the alleys again. The one who'd crawled out of blood and ash to lead a ghost of a resistance. And still, even now, her grief lingered just beneath her skin, raw and sharp.

"With Blade gone," Claudia said, her arms folded tightly, "the underground's shield cracked wide open. The hunters are wolves—smart enough to wait until the big dogs were out of the yard before tearing through the fence." Her voice was low, laced with a rare bitterness. "Damn it."

"I'm surprised it hasn't turned into full-on civil war yet," Kailey murmured. She leaned into her twin brother slightly, her fingers twitching with nervous energy. "Between Blade's fall, and Dragonfly's… It's chaos out there. People are scared. People are angry. And they're starting to act on it."

Raul nodded. "The Premier's trying, but the underground's too fractured right now. We're putting out fires with buckets when what we need is a flood." His jaw tightened. "And still, something feels off. This isn't just about control. The hunters are moving like they're looking for something. Like they're desperate."

"It's not just you kids," Timo added grimly, wiping down a mug with slow, deliberate movements. "Even Normals are starting to feel the heat. They know something's wrong. So does the Premier. The hunters are gathering power in ways we haven't seen before. Even the ESA is helpless. If the hunters gain too much momentum…" His voice trailed. He didn't need to finish.

"The ESA can barely keep themselves together," Laura scoffed, her voice cold. "They're compromised. If anyone still thinks they'll save us, they're fools."

But the room's simmering tension broke the moment a sharp ringtone cut through the air like a gunshot. Instantly, hands darted to pockets and holsters, fingers grazing phones and weapons alike. Sera's hand moved fastest, her expression contorting in something between disbelief and dread as she saw the number.

It was a number she hadn't seen in a long time.

"…What in the—?! Klein?! The hell did you get this number? And how in the name of the Goddess do you know I'm still alive?"

The voice that replied was cracked and faint, but unmistakably his. Familiar and weary. And just barely there.

"Knew it was you. Voice hasn't changed," Klein rasped, chuckling weakly. "Ethan owed me a favour. Dug the number outta wherever he keeps all his secrets. Figured you might be breathing still after Dragonfly got wiped off the map. You were always the one with too much grit to die easy."

Sera's eyes darkened. She wanted to scream at him. Curse him for reaching out now, for making her feel like that scared teenager who still believed Blade could survive anything. But something in his voice froze her.

"Klein," she said, low and steady. "What's happening? What's going on?"

Whirlwind is after all the guardians of Zalfari. A very special place even by underground standards. It is where the majority of the black market resides, and where you can find the best information brokers there. If there is information that one wants, they will be able to find what they need at Zalfari, provided they have the coin.

There was silence. Then, the sound of laboured breathing.

"I think Whirlwind's about to fall," Klein said, and each word sounded like a blade scraping bone. "Just like Blade did. Zalfari's compromised. The hunters came in hard, no warning. No mercy. They're everywhere, slaughtering anyone who even looks like they might be Gifted. Hell, even Normals like us didn't stand a chance." His voice broke, trembling under the weight of guilt.

Raul paled as the name clicked in his head. Whirlwind. Zalfari's guardians.

"Oh no," Sera whispered.

Klein coughed again. "Sera, I need you to do something for me. Two things. Please."

Sera swallowed. "Anything."

"Tell the Premier… I'm sorry. I did everything I could. But I couldn't stop them. Zalfari needs someone else now. A real guardian. Someone who won't fail."

Another pause. Then came the part that cracked something in his voice.

"My second favour… It's more important. There's a girl. Her name's Letha Joyner. She's a Gifted, but it's more than that. She's… She's something they're afraid of. They want her, Sera. Bad. I don't know why. But whatever it is, I can't let them have her. Promise me… Promise you'll keep her safe."

Sera was on her feet before she even knew she'd moved, her chair screeching across the floor. "Klein—"

"She's only nineteen," Klein went on, ignoring her. "Scared out of her damn mind. Blames herself for all of this. But it's not her fault. She didn't ask for this. None of us did. Please…protect her. However you have to. Even if I'm gone, let my last debt go toward keeping her alive."

"Klein, wait, please—"

But the line went dead.

"No—!" Sera stared at the phone in disbelief, thumb frantically jabbing at the screen to redial, but it was no use. The call wouldn't go through. Disconnected. Gone.

"Damn it, Klein!" she shouted, slamming her fist into the counter. "This isn't the time to play the hero! You weren't supposed to be a martyr!"

"What the hell just happened?" Ness demanded, his voice sharp.

Raul had gone rigid. "Was that Klein? From Whirlwind?"

Sera didn't look at them. Her fingers curled tightly around the phone. "Zalfari's under siege. The hunters hit them hard, and Klein… He's dying." Her voice cracked slightly, but she kept going. "He asked us to protect someone. A Gifted. Letha Joyner. Nineteen. They're hunting her, and from the sound of it, she's powerful. Dangerous. They want her for something."

"That's why they hit Whirlwind," Raul said, his voice suddenly quiet. "Not to wipe them out. To get her."

"If Zalfari falls," Claudia said slowly, her voice like ice, "then the underground's done. You understand that, right? That's our information hub on the surface. Our safehouses. The black market. Everything runs through Zalfari."

Sera looked around, her voice sharpening. "We need to go. Now."

"It's raining," Laura reminded, but her voice was already resolute. "But I can steer us. I'll keep the waters calm."

Sera nodded, drawing in a breath. "Good. Get ready. I'll explain everything on the way. But we can't wait. We need to reach Zalfari. We need to get to Letha."

Because if they didn't, there might not be anything left to save.

* * * *

It was raining again.

Of course it was.

Bad things always happened when it rained.

Letha had once told Klein that in a half-laughing, half-bitter murmur when he'd asked why she hated rainy nights. She remembered how he'd just smiled, called her dramatic, and tossed his coat over her head to shield her from the drizzle. But she hadn't been exaggerating.

It had been a rainy night when her Gift had first awakened—when her scream had rattled windows and the dead had clawed their way up through the soaked earth of the backyard garden. It had been a rainy night when her parents had screamed too, calling her a monster, and thrown her out of their home like unwanted trash. And it had been raining when the fanatics had cornered her in the alley, calling for her blood, only for Klein to show up with fury in his voice.

And it was raining tonight.

And Whirlwind… They were gone. Probably all of them. Klein too.

For trying to protect her.

"…Goddess above…" Letha whispered. Her voice cracked, dry, even though the rain soaked her skin and clung to her lashes. She sat curled beneath the ancient weeping willow that loomed at the heart of Zalfari, knees drawn to her chest, her clothes clinging to her like mourning veils. "Did I do something wrong?"

The locals believed the willow was a guardian—a spirit sent by the Goddess to watch over Zalfari. But tonight, the tree was silent. It bled rain from its drooping branches and watched with hollow stillness, its roots drenched in the blood of people Letha had loved.

"Why…?" Her fingers dug into the mud at her sides, her nails cracked and dirty, her lips trembling. "Why does this keep happening…?"

She could already hear them.

Footsteps, wet and deliberate, boots sucking at the mud as the hunters approached. The sound of the graveyard behind her stirring with her unrest—the crackle of brittle leaves, the creaking of ancient bone beneath loam as her Gift rippled outward, responding to her pain like an echo returning from the other side.

"There she is!"

"Don't let her escape! Surround her!"

But Letha didn't move.

The rain beat down on her like punishment, plastering her silvery hair to her cheeks. Her breath steamed in the cold air, shivering in shallow pulls, but she didn't flinch as they closed in. She didn't cry. She just sat there, eyes blank, soaked to the bone.

Maybe it wouldn't be so bad…to die here.

Maybe she'd see Klein again.

Maybe the Goddess would forgive her.

"You've led us on quite the chase," growled the lead hunter, a thick man with blood staining his coat—Klein's blood, probably. His face was scratched, and one of his eyes was nearly swollen shut. He sneered as he raised a hand toward her. "But this ends here—"

A translucent green barrier flashed to life around Letha in an instant—pulsing with protective energy before his hand could reach her. The man jerked back, startled.

"What in the…?"

Letha didn't react. She barely registered it. Her eyes didn't move, but her Gift pulsed again. Low and quiet beneath her skin, like something waking up.

She heard the new voices before she saw them—footsteps cutting through the storm, breathless but determined.

"Looks like we made it," Sera Kroix panted, her eyes scanning the scene with steel in their depths. Her raven hair was already half-loosed from her ponytail, soaked and curling against her neck. Behind her, Kailey supported Laura, whose face had gone frighteningly pale.

"Laura, rest," Sera ordered, not unkindly. "Kailey, stay with her."

"You got it," Kailey replied, her jaw clenched.

One of the hunters turned, hand going for his gun. "Who the hell are you? More Gifted? Great. More freaks of nature."

Sera didn't blink. "In case no one told you," she said, her voice as cold and sharp as broken glass, "Hunters aren't welcome in Zalfari."

Among the group, Neil had bristled at the hunters' insult, his pale white eyes narrowing with restrained fury. Raul's hands twitched near his pockets, as if ready to unleash the swarm nesting in his coat. Even Claudia, elegant and distant, had begun to smile—a dangerous thing.

But Sera stood firm, her gaze fixed on the enemy like judgment incarnate.

"This town is underground territory. Abyss territory," Raul said quietly, but there was venom in his tone. "Off-limits. Even to ESA agents. You people… You don't belong here."

The hunters didn't care.

"We don't take orders from brats," sneered a younger hunter, no older than them.

"I see," Sera murmured. She glanced at her team—each one tense, ready, and forged in fire. Her voice dropped like the blade of an axe. "Kill them all. Leave none alive."

Raul's smile widened into something feral.

The cawing came first—low and distant, then rising. The branches above them shifted like something alive, and the hunters looked up just in time to see dozens—no, hundreds, of crows staring back with beady, knowing eyes.

"I've been waiting for that order," Claudia murmured, stretching her fingers. The air shifted, heavy with static.

The wind howled. And the crows dove.

Feathers blacked out the sky in a swarm of claws and shrieks, and all the hunters knew then was confusion, chaos, and then pain.

But beneath the willow tree, the eye of the storm had already begun to crack.

Letha's hands had curled into fists. Her breathing was ragged. Her mind had gone far past sorrow and was curdling into something deeper and hotter.

They killed him. They killed them all. They were laughing about it.

They were still laughing.

And then… Her Gift surged.

With a deafening snap, the earth around her grave split—cracks spidering through stone like veins. The air grew cold, unnaturally cold. A stench rose—like rot and lightning, and a low rumbling groan echoed from the graves behind her.

And then the dead rose.

They didn't claw their way from the dirt—they exploded from it, as if dragged out screaming by the force of Letha's will. Bones cracked, dirt flew, and skeletal figures lurched into being—some whole, some twisted, their hollow sockets burning with pale blue fire.

The hunters staggered, shrieking.

"What the hell—?!"

Letha rose slowly to her feet, soaked and trembling, her hair wild around her. Her eyes glowed faintly—not with the soft shimmer of someone using their Gift gently, but with the eerie, searing light of someone whose control had been shattered.

"You took everything from me," she whispered.

The rain slashed sideways as a dimensional rift flickered behind her—space tearing open like paper, crackling with white energy.

"You want a monster?" Letha said, her voice rising, trembling with fury and grief and loss too vast to name. "Fine. I'll be your monster."

And then she raised her hands, and the dead charged.

Some screamed. Others ran. But most didn't get far.

The earth swallowed some whole. Others were dragged into the dimensional rift, their screams echoing as the light snapped shut. The skeletal figures moved in sync, coordinated like soldiers, swarming the remaining hunters with bone and rage.

The air turned black with feathers and death.

And in the center of it all, Letha stood beneath the willow—cold and burning, half-sobbing, half-laughing, her body trembling with the weight of what she'd done. Her Gift still pulsed, but now it was beginning to recede slowly, flickering like a flame just barely controlled.

Behind her, Sera stepped closer, her voice low. "Letha."

No answer.

"Letha, it's over."

Letha shuddered. The skeletal soldiers slowly began to fall apart—returning to dust, to silence, to sleep. The rift closed behind her with a sigh.

She didn't turn.

"They're all gone," she whispered. "Klein… All of them… I should've fought harder."

Sera's voice was soft. "You did what you could."

"It wasn't enough."

The rain kept falling. But now, it was only water.

"You're Letha, aren't you?" Sera's voice came gently, quiet like the hush of wind threading through shattered ruins. "Klein told me about you."

The name struck like a blade.

Letha's pale blue eyes flickered with something faint and fractured—recognition, disbelief, and sorrow so deep it barely surfaced. Her silvery-blonde hair clung wetly to her face and neck, tangled and matted from the relentless rain, and when she looked at Sera, it was like watching someone resurface from a drowning.

"…Klein…?" Her voice was a ghost, hoarse and fragile. Her cracked lips trembled as she licked at them, trying to find shape to the question beneath it. Behind Sera, the rest of Aegis had grown quiet—still rifling through the dead hunters' belongings, but pausing, sharing uncertain glances.

"Where… Where is he?" she asked at last, barely above a whisper. There was no hope in it—only dread, hollow and already resigned.

Sera hesitated. The image of Klein's body flashed before her again—twisted on the dirt like a puppet discarded mid-motion, riddled with so many bullet wounds that it was a miracle she had recognised him at all. His blood had soaked the streets of Zalfari.

He hadn't just died. He had been destroyed.

Raul had been the one to carry his remains into an abandoned shack, sheltering what dignity was left of him from the falling rain.

"He didn't make it," Sera said finally. Her voice did not falter, but it softened. "None of Whirlwind did."

The silence that followed was cavernous. Letha didn't scream. She didn't cry. She simply…crumbled. Her body swayed once before collapsing down, her knees giving beneath her like she had been hollowed from the inside. Her arms hung limp at her sides, and her head bowed so low the rain ran down her spine like cold fingers.

Her lips moved, but no sound came. Then finally, a broken, guttural sob tore out of her, so raw and unshaped it barely sounded human.

"They're gone… All of them," Letha murmured, more to herself than anyone else. Her fingers clawed into the mud beneath her, trembling violently. "Klein… They didn't have to… They didn't…"

Sera stepped forward, kneeling. "Klein asked me to look after you, Letha. You're a Gifted. He knew what that meant."

That word—Gifted, seemed to splinter something inside Letha. Her chest convulsed with a sharp intake of breath. Her shoulders shook.

"I didn't ask them to protect me," she whispered. "I didn't… I didn't deserve it. They knew what I could do. They knew the kind of thing I am. I… I bring the dead to life. I tear holes through space. What kind of person survives when everyone else dies for her?! What kind of monster lives through that?"

Rain dripped from her hair. Her fists clenched into the mud, nails cutting into her palms. She wouldn't meet Sera's eyes now. She seemed smaller somehow—despite being older, despite the strength that lived dormant beneath her skin. Like a statue broken by weather and time, she was sinking into herself, a monument of guilt and grief.

"They should've given me up," she said thickly. "They should've left me. I'd rather—"

"No," Sera cut her off, her voice hardening. She reached forward and firmly grasped Letha's wrists, pulling them away from where her fingers had torn furrows into the ground. "That is exactly why they didn't. That's why they fought for you. Dying for someone they believed in is not the same as dying for nothing."

Tatius exchanged glances with Ness and Claudia—Sera had said something nearly identical back in Dragonfly's territory. Her voice then had shaken with fury, the memory of Dragonfly's betrayal of Raul still fresh.

And now? She spoke with conviction, grounded by loss.

But Letha only stared, hollow and haunted.

"It should have been me," she whispered. "Klein was kind. Brave. He could make people believe there was still something worth saving in this world. He wasn't just a leader. He was hope. And now he's… He's gone. And I'm still here. I'm nothing. I'm just the monster they hid. The thing they all died for. I…" Her voice cracked. Her face crumpled. "I'm just…Zalfari's curse."

Slap.

The sound rang out sharp as lightning. Letha's head snapped sideways from the force, and the others flinched instinctively.

Her hand lifted slowly to her cheek, now burning and wet from rain and tears alike. She turned back, wide-eyed, to find Sera standing before her, eyes burning with quiet rage and something fierce.

"Don't you dare say that again," Sera said. Her voice was low but commanding. "You are not a curse. You are not a monster. The only monsters I see are the bastards who hunted you, who tore this place apart for sport and fear and power."

Behind her, the rest of Aegis stood solemn and quiet. Their eyes—Kailey's, Neil's, Raul's, Ness's, Laura's, all held silent memories of loss, of loved ones taken, of betrayals endured. They understood. Every single one of them bore scars, visible or not.

"You're a Gifted," Sera continued. "So are we. That doesn't make us freaks. That makes us part of something bigger. You're not alone anymore."

Letha blinked, still frozen. Then, very slowly, her lips parted.

"You… You're all Gifted?"

"All of us," Tatius said, stepping up beside Sera. He tilted his head toward the others. "Each one of us has bled, run, and fought. You think your powers make you unworthy? There are plenty of people who'd say the same about ours. Doesn't mean they're right."

Kailey stepped forward as well, gently touching Laura's shoulder to keep her balanced. Laura, though pale and exhausted, nodded.

"Your people saw you as worth saving," Laura rasped, "so live. Live for them. Because if you don't, then their deaths mean nothing. You are the proof they existed. You are their legacy."

Letha's gaze dropped to her hands—trembling, muddied, and stained. Her shoulders sagged as the weight of those words settled into her bones. "Klein…" she whispered again, the name breaking against her tongue. Her voice was a thread unraveling. "…I'm sorry. I'm so sorry…"

Sera exhaled, standing and glancing around at the bodies sprawled in the mud. The hunters who had come for blood—now lifeless, their blood mixing with rain and earth, as if the land itself rejected them.

"We need to take care of this mess," she murmured.

"I'll handle the bodies," Ness said, stepping forward. "Could use some help, though. Raul? Tatius?"

"On it," Raul nodded grimly.

"I'll call in some people," Laura offered from Kailey's side. "At the very least, Whirlwind deserves proper graves."

"I'll go check for any townsfolk still hiding," Neil added, already rubbing the back of his neck. "Some of them might need help too."

"And someone's gotta tell the Premier," Raul muttered. "She's going to be furious."

"She will," Sera agreed quietly. "But that comes later. Right now…" Her gaze turned back to Letha. "I'm taking her to the boathouse. Kailey, Laura, come with me."

She crouched down, gently helping Letha to her feet. The older girl stumbled once, numb and shivering, but allowed herself to be led.

"I might have pushed myself a bit far," Laura mumbled with a sheepish wince.

"You think?" Kailey muttered, steadying her.

"All right," Tatius said, his voice low. "Let's move."

The group began to split, each taking on the tasks ahead of them. But before turning away, Sera cast one last look at the weeping willow tree—its branches drooping low, as if mourning the fallen themselves.

Help Letha. Protect her.

Klein's voice, still echoing in her memory.

Sera's eyes closed for a heartbeat. Then opened. "I will," she whispered.

And with that, she led Letha into the rain.

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