The kind of place people came to "find themselves" or write poetry about their feelings. The water murmured softly, the air smelled like fresh grass and introspection, and the sky was painted in warm, artsy shades of orange and purple. It was like stepping into a motivational poster.
There was but one place like this in Cyclos: Oasis.
I turned to him, raising an eyebrow. “Didn’t think ye’d take me somewhere so… wholesome,” I drawled, mimicking his Irish accent enough to be annoying.
He chuckled, unbothered. “Sometimes, quiet’s what ye need. Especially if yer tryin’ to shut off the world for a bit.”
Ah, fantastic. Not only was I being dragged into an impromptu field trip, but now it was meant to betherapeutic.
We sat down on the grass, overlooking the water like two old philosophers about to solve the world’s problems—except our method involved Scotch instead of wisdom. Sean presented his bottle of single malt, pouring us both a drink with the kind of precision that suggested this wasn’t his first time.
Sean broke the silence first, his voice soft but laced with amusement. “So, ye gonna tell me what happened, or are ye gonna make me guess?”
I took another sip, letting the burn do its job before answering. “Let’s just say I had a rough training session and leave it at that.”
Sean shook his head like I’d told him I tripped and fell into a bucket of blood. “A rough trainin’ session doesn’t usually leave ye covered in that much blood.”
I shot him a scathing look, but there was no judgment in his eyes, only concern. Annoying, persistent concern.
“I’m fine,” I muttered, lying like every other emotionally unstable person ever.
Sean studied me for a second, then shrugged, leaning back like he had all the time in the world. “All right, all right. No talkin’. Just drinkin’.” He lifted his glass to me in a toast, as if he hadn’t called me out for looking like I’d crawled out of a horror movie, and I couldn’t help but smirk.
“Sláinte,” I said, clinking my glass against his.
“Sláinte,” he echoed, his grin never fading.
Maybe it was the way he didn’t press for answers, or perhaps it was the warmth of the Scotch loosening the tight grip I had on my thoughts. Either way, after a while, a flicker of something passed through me—an urge to open up, only a little. I swirled the Scotch in my glass, watching the amber liquid catch the light before finally speaking.
“I lost control today,” I confessed, the words spilling out faster than I expected. Voicing it out loud felt like tearing open a wound I hadn’t fully processed yet.
“I was abducted last year. Twice, actually. By Radicals.” My voice wavered. “Both times, they tried to bleed me out. I don’t even know how, but I translated every drop they ever took from me into that training room today.”
Sean’s grin disappeared as surprise flickered across his face. His carefree demeanor shifted into a more serious one, a more present one. “That’s both impressive and terrifyin’,” he said slowly. “Any idea how that happened?”
“I thought of Logan Stark,” I admitted, and hated how even saying his name left a bitter taste on my tongue, the memory of him, a dark shadow creeping into the room. “I know James told you about him. What he did, what happened at Coastal…” My breath caught. “The memories just came flooding back.”
Sean’s expression darkened, but his tone softened. “I heard ‘bout that. I’m sorry, Emma.”
I shrugged, taking a longer sip of Scotch. The warmth burned down my throat, but it didn’t touch the tightness in my chest. “Everyone has their darkness.”
Sean stilled. “Yeah, I guess that’s true,” he said quietly, his features clouding with grief. I could tell his thoughts had drifted to the casualties James had mentioned—the lives of his team lost during battle.
“I heard about the losses at Crown,” I whispered, almost afraid to bring it up. “I’m deeply sorry, Sean.”
Sean closed his lids for a moment, as if gathering himself. “Thank you.”
The space between us was heavy with shared pain, and without thinking, I scooted closer, our shoulders now touching. There was something about Sean that put me at ease, warmth and comfort I hadn’t expected.
“Do you want to talk about it?” I asked softly.
Sean snorted, his laugh bitter. “What’s there to say? They attacked, we fought back, and we won. Though it sure as hell didn’t feel like it. We lost too many.” He took another swig of his drink, before adding, “If I ever see another Radical, I’ll kill him on sight.”
I swallowed hard, his anger resonating enormously with my own. We were more alike than I’d realized.
“Do you think your Collective will rescind its consensus now?” I whispered.
Sean frowned, confusion flickering across his face. “We never reached a consensus.”
