Other than Bren, she's the only person who has ever looked at me like I was worth something. Like I could be better than the person I’ve always run from. And now? Now she’s going to die for believing in me, for helping me.
Bile rises from my stomach, nails almost cutting the skin at my palms now from clenching so tight, I want to grab her and scream don't go.
But my magic slams behind my ribs—erratic, hungry. Threads wound so tight I can barely breathe without risking a spark. Crawling up the back of my skull, seizing every thought, unravelling my focus until all I can do is sit there, frozen, as I watch her walk toward the mat. All sunshine and softness. Straight into the mouth of something that’s going to devour her.
I want to throw up.
All this time, I’ve been avoiding her. Not because I didn’t care, but because I did. Because I couldn’t bear to lie to her. And still, somehow, I’ve dragged her into this.
Sweet, naive Ezzy. Drawn into the mess of Lyra Bloom. The chaotic Scraplander girl with too many secrets. A thorn in everything pure. I knew I should’ve stayed further away. Kept the walls higher, locked the doors tighter. Maybe that’s how you protect people—by never letting them close enough to get hurt.
Beside me, Finn’s head is in his hands now. Elbows on his knees, bouncing fast. Like the speed of his movements might make this go quicker. Like maybe if it ends fast, it’ll hurt less.
Fuck, I need to get her out of this. I need todosomething. This isn't fair, this isn't just. She doesn't deserve this; it was meant to be me. But I don't know how to fix this, not without breaking any rules or having my magic explode.
On the mat below, Ezzy steps up beside Elijah, her bright blonde hair and sparkly pin catching in the dim light. Shoulders squared, movements precise, like she’s following choreography she’s rehearsed a hundred times, calm on the outside. Composed even. But her fingers still twitch at her side.
She gives Elijah a small smile.
He doesn’t react, just stands there, still and blank, like he’s been given one job.
End her.End me.
“Okay, cadets. Please begin.”
No.
No, no, there’s got to be a way out of this. I just need time—I just need?—
Elijah moves.
Fast. Clean. No warning.
I look away before the first punch lands, but sound hits hard anyway, vibrating through me. A sickening, dullthudthat lands in the pit of my stomach and won’t come out.
Ezzy gasps.
Bile and magic twist in tandem, snaking up from deep in my gut like they want to split me open. I grab the bench and grit my teeth, jaw locked tight, choking it down.
No. Not here. Not now. I don’t get to panic. I don’t get to lose control. I need my head sharp. I need logic, not this mess of magic and emotion. I need to be the one holding the reins if I'm going to figure out a way to save her.
But my Threads are pounding so fast my head feels like it's going to explode any second from the pressure.
Beside me, Finn’s hands are now tearing at his hair, fingers digging into the messy black strands like pain is the only thing keeping him upright. But his legs, always in motion, have gone still. No bouncing. No movement.
Another crack, another hit.
I don’t see it. Don’t want to.
But I hear the scream, the way air leaves her lungs—shrill, panicked, a noise no one should ever have to make.
Magic sparks, but I lock everything down in one hard clamp, because I can’t lose control. Not here. Not in the Rec Hall. Not with eyes everywhere. Their eyes. His eyes.
This isn't how I save her. Is it?
All I wanted was to sit here. Stay off the mat and hold my Threads together. But it’s not about me anymore. Not about what I want. Not when she’s the one down there, because of me?—
Another sickening thud. Another cry. Another wet crack that turns my stomach.
