Clara drifted in a haze.
Her body was heavy, every breath shallow, every heartbeat uneven. She could feel Evelyn's arms around her, warm, protective, trembling. Somewhere far away, Damien's voice had cut like steel, sharp and merciless, while Zeke's tone lingered like ice.
But here—in this in-between space—it was quiet. Too quiet.
Until it wasn't.
"You fought me."
The voice curled into her skull, smooth as silk, sharp as glass. Yurin. Always Yurin. His presence seeped through like ink in water, staining her mind with every syllable.
Clara forced her lips to move, even though her throat was dry, her voice no more than a whisper Evelyn couldn't quite catch. "I… won't… give in…"
Her words trembled into the night air, a fragile thread of defiance.
Yurin chuckled softly, though it didn't sound cruel—it sounded almost… amused. "Stubborn little flame. You call this victory? You think clinging to their hands will keep me out forever?"
Clara tried to push back, to summon the spark of her will, but she was exhausted. The fight had left her drained, her power flickering like a dying candle.
And he knew it.
"You've already let me in once." His voice pressed closer, more intimate. "Every time you resist, you carve yourself deeper. Do you even realize what's happening to your soul? Or are you too busy pretending to be brave for them?"
Her lips parted, and the faintest whisper escaped. "Not… yours…"
But her chest ached. Her veins still burned faintly, remembering the crimson glow. For one terrifying moment, she wondered if he was right.
And then she felt Evelyn's hand in her hair, grounding her. Evelyn's voice, though faint and trembling, reached through the fog: "I'm here. You're safe. Just breathe with me."
Clara clung to it. She clung so hard she thought her soul might shatter from the grip.
Yurin's laughter faded into a sigh. Almost… disappointed. "They think they're saving you. Sweet, isn't it? One would burn the world for you. Another would calculate your death like an equation. And the last—ah, the last would cut you down himself if he thought it would save the others."
Clara's pulse faltered. She had heard echoes of their argument. She remembered Damien's voice, cold and steady, saying he would kill her if he had to.
Yurin smiled in her mind. "Do you see it now? Your death is already weighed on their scales. When the moment comes, they'll choose survival over you. They'll prove me right. And when they do…"
He leaned in, his whisper brushing the edges of her soul. "…you'll finally fall to me, because you'll have nowhere else to stand."
Clara's body shuddered in Evelyn's arms. Her lips moved faintly, forming words Evelyn couldn't quite make out.
But Zeke did. His sharp eyes never missed details. And though he gave no sign, he had heard her murmur:
"…he's… already… inside…"
The words froze him. He did not speak them aloud. He only pressed his fingers subtly into the dirt, tracing a glyph so faint no one else would notice. A mark of preparation. A reminder of the choice he would not hesitate to make.
Meanwhile, Evelyn whispered desperately, "Clara, stay with me. Don't listen to him. Please, just—stay."
Clara's lashes fluttered, tears pricking her eyes. She wanted to scream at Evelyn that she was trying, that she was fighting, but all that came was a weak breath.
And deep inside, Yurin's voice lingered like a promise. "Every whisper, every hesitation, every crack in their faith—it all leads back to me. And when the final moment comes… you'll realize you were mine long before you fought back."
The darkness pressed in again, heavy and suffocating.
But before Clara slipped fully into unconsciousness, she managed to form one last whisper—this time meant only for herself.
"I won't… break…"
Her voice was almost inaudible, but Evelyn caught it. She held Clara tighter, as if she could fuse the words into reality.
Zeke said nothing. Damien said nothing.
But all three of them knew the truth.
The fight hadn't been won.
It had only just begun.