He does. Not close enough to touch, but near enough that his chaos magic sparks softer around her. I notice the shift immediately. The way his power gentles in her proximity, like fire banking itself without conscious thought.
My shadows shift, recognizing the pattern.
“You okay?” Finn asks.
“Fine.”
“Liar.”
The corner of her mouth twitches. Not quite a smile, but close. “You’re one to talk.”
“I’m an excellent liar.” His grin appears—bright, sharp, armor made of mischief. “Years of practice.”
“I know.”
The smile falters. Just for a breath. Then it’s back, locked in place like muscle memory.
Bob shifts position slightly, edges softening. Even he sees it—the way Finn stabilizes her without meaning to. The way she lets him closer than she lets most of us.
Of all of us, he’s the one she lets see the cracks.
I remember when our bond locked. The way Kaia looked at me in the water, choosing me in her moment of need. The rightness of it settling into place. And underneath all of it—faint but unmistakable—Finn’s presence flickering through. Feeling what we felt. Breaking quietly somewhere across camp where we couldn’t see him shatter.
He hasn’t recovered. He just learned to joke around it.
Torric appears at my shoulder, heat signature washing over me before he speaks. “You going to do something?”
“Not this time.”
His golden eyes narrow. “What does that mean?”
“It means if Finn breaks, she breaks. If she breaks, everything breaks.” I keep my voice low, measured. “Let them breathe.”
“You’re playing strategist with people’s lives.”
“I’m always playing strategist.” I meet his gaze steadily. “Someone has to.”
He studies me for a long moment, jaw tight with frustration he can’t quite articulate. Then he exhales, shaking his head. “I hate when you do this.”
“I know.”
He leaves. Fire trailing him like discontent made visible.
I don’t worry about romance. That’s not what this is—not yet, maybe not ever. What worries me is the chaos magic.
Finn feels too much. It’s his strength. The reason his power responds to emotion, adapts, flows. But it’s also his flaw. When he gets too tied to something—someone—his magic destabilizes. Becomes unpredictable. Dangerous.
My shadows deepen, reflecting the unease I won’t speak aloud.
Carl tumbles out of a tree nearby, landing in a heap with what looks like a stick clutched triumphantly in his shadowy grip. He scrambles up, salutes Bob with obvious pride, and presents his “discovery.”
Bob’s form deflates with visible disappointment.
Linda appears, gently redirecting Carl toward actual patrol duties. Patricia’s notebook flares brighter, documenting the chaos with what I suspect is extreme judgment.
The absurdity cuts through some of my tension.
Kieran stops Finn as he stands to leave, golden eyes serious. “I need you on first watch tonight.”
