The first time I came to this world, I didn't fall from the sky.
I was pulled here in the blink of an eye—lost, terrified, confused. A mighty king found me then, saved me when I didn't know what to do.
This time is different.
As I fall, everything is painfully clear.
I'm in danger.
And Talon needs me.
I don't have anyone to rely on now but myself.
The moment I hit the ground, I don't scream or freeze. I duck, crawl, and cover. My instincts take over. I scan my surroundings—trees everywhere.
This forest is nothing like the jungles of Juno.
The woods here are dense, thick with towering trunks and tangled undergrowth. It's darker, quieter—thankfully difficult for the bats to scout from above. That gives me an advantage.
At least during the day.
Night is another story.
I check myself quickly. Bruises bloom across my arms and legs. Scratches burn against my skin. Every muscle aches from the fall. Fear creeps in, and tears spill before I can stop them.
But then I think of Talon.
How he held me.
How he chose me.
How he was willing to die for me.
The fear drains away—replaced by something stronger.
Resolve.
This isn't the time to cry. I need to think. Plan. Act.
I find refuge inside a massive hollow tree, its opening hidden behind thick vines. If I'm going to do this, I need to be smart—precise.
I remember things I've read.
Bats hate light.
They avoid strong scents—mint, eucalyptus, cinnamon.
They rely on confusion and darkness.
Good.
I can work with that.
I use my flame sparingly to heal my worst injuries. Then I scout—quietly—searching for water, food, and terrain that can help me survive. Fire isn't my problem. Control is.
I need distractions. False trails. Fake staging areas to keep them guessing.
I need to practice.
If I'd known this would be my fate, maybe I should've joined the army. But I've camped. I've run obstacle races. I know how to survive—just enough.
And right now, that has to be enough.
I find a stream and follow it, careful to mask my scent. Whenever I hear wings or clicking overhead, I bury myself beneath leaves and roots, not daring to breathe until the forest goes quiet again.
Small creatures dart around—rabbits, squirrels. Too small to be beasts, I think. Or maybe they are, in their own way. This world feels like a reflection of mine—animals that evolved differently, together.
Thanks to them, I learn which fruits and plants are safe to eat.
Then I find it.
A clearing thick with wild mint.
The air is sharp, clean, almost peppermint-sweet.
Luck.
I roll in it, let the scent cling to my clothes and skin. Maybe that's why the bats hesitate to come this far down.
Nearby, I find a rocky outcrop—bare stone, far from vegetation. A safe place to train.
I set up false fires and scorched marks elsewhere first—decoys—then return to the rocks and focus.
Why do I have this power?
Why does it feel like part of me?
No answers. Only fire.
I practice again and again—aiming, missing, adjusting. I'm terrible at it. My arms shake. My control slips.
But I don't need perfection.
I just need to hurt them enough to save Talon.
I don't rush. I can't.
As I rest, my thoughts drift—Aron, Rocco, Gideon. I'm glad they aren't here. Glad they don't have to face this. Talon is here because of me.
And I won't leave him.
As I drink from the stream, my thoughts circle again—vessel. Goddess. Vera.
Then—
A rustle.
I summon fire instantly.
A snake slides into view, scales catching the light.
"Oh—sorry for disturbing you!"
Another snake.
I've seen water snakes before, but still—snakes are dangerous. No matter how polite they sound. There's a reason they're apex predators.
"I may be the one trespassing," I whisper carefully. "I'll leave soon."
"Are you lost?" the snake asks calmly. "I can help you out."
"I'm not lost," I reply. "I know where I'm going."
"You're being hunted," it says. "Those loud pests. You won't survive them. You should run."
I stiffen.
"I don't owe you an explanation," I say firmly. "Thank you—but I'm leaving."
The snake senses it. My weakness. My lack of certainty.
But I don't care.
In my world, you don't abandon someone who sacrificed themselves for you.
That's not who I am.
I straighten my shoulders.
"I wasn't born to be a quitter," I whisper to the forest. "I'm already here. How much worse can it get?"
I look toward the mountain peak.
"Please wait for me, Talon," I vow. "I'm coming."
And this time—
I won't run.