The scream shattered the quiet like glass.

"Where is he?!"

Onyx thrashed against the blanket twisted around her legs, eyes wild, limbs shaking. She was drenched in sweat and gasping as though drowning. Her hands trembled, fingers curling into the sheets—searching, reaching for something that wasn't there.

Someone.

Her voice cracked as she fought to sit up, but her body wouldn't cooperate—not yet. She felt like she was burning from the inside out. Every breath came sharp, every nerve on fire.

Oldren was through the doorway in seconds, axe already halfway raised, eyes darting like he expected an ambush.

"Lass—!"

"Rok!" Onyx rasped, clawing at her throat like the name had tried to choke her. "Where is he?! What did he do?!"

Her golden eyes were red and irritated by scalding tears that flooded from her. She knew the answer but she dreaded hearing it outloud.

Jade was already at her side, gripping her shoulders to hold her down—but gently. She couldn't hurt him if she tried, not in the state she was in. And she knew it. That made it worse.

"He's gone," Jade said quickly, voice tight.

Onyx froze.

Only momentarily before she reached up grabbing Jade by the front of his shirt, her hands trembling. Not out of rage, but pain.

"How?!" she hissed.

"He traded himself." Jade snapped, voice cracking. "Alright? He traded himself for me!"

Silence followed—shocking in its finality.

Onyx's hands loosened their grip. Jade stumbled back, eyes glistening, but her own stayed locked ahead—like her soul had just been torn sideways.

"What do you mean... he traded himself?" Her voice had dropped. Too calm. Too controlled. And that was the most terrifying thing of all.

Oldren finally stepped in, his voice rough as gravel. "Lass... Rok made a deal with the Queen. When ya disappeared, she sent herself lookin'. Jade got caught. Rok offered himself in exchange."

"He's with her now?" Onyx whispered.

Jade nodded slowly. "We tried to stop him, but... he wouldn't let us."

The air shifted—thickening, darkening. Onyx's fists clenched, her knuckles cracking with a newfound heat. Blue flames curled out from her fingertips, dancing in her palms. Her breathing became shallow, erratic.

"She has him," she murmured. "She has him. That sick-blooded witch has him." Her eyes flared brighter than ever before. "I'll tear down her throne. I'll burn every inch of that cursed fortress and rip her apart piece by piece—"

"Onyx—" Oldren reached for her arm but stopped himself midway.

"She took him," Onyx said again, quieter this time, but no less furious. "He was mine. My blade. My balance. And she took him from me."

Jade swallowed. "He did it to save me..."

She turned on him. "That doesn't make it right!"

And then—her breath hitched.

Something in her cracked. Not power—something softer. Her voice trembled on the edge of a sob.

"I did this..."

"I did this..." she whispered again, the words barely audible now.

Oldren stepped closer, slower this time, like she was some wounded animal caught in a trap too deep for steel.

"No, lass," he said softly, his rough hand resting near but not quite on her shoulder. "This ain't on you."

"Yes it is," she snapped, but there was no fire in it. Just hollowed-out ruin. "I left. I left him to fight alone. If I'd stayed—if I'd fought—Rok wouldn't have had to choose."

Her chest heaved, but her breaths were stuttering now, coming in uneven gasps. Her power sparked weakly across her hands, then fizzled. A cold, bitter reminder.

"I'm supposed to be strong," she muttered. "I'm supposed to be the one they fear. But look at me."

She ripped the blanket off, revealing her thin, trembling frame—scarred, pale as frost. Her veins glowed faintly with fading magic, like a dying star. Her body had survived—but barely.

Oldren's voice lowered, that rare note of compassion creeping in. "They do fear ya, Onyx. That's why they took 'em. Why they keep hittin' where it hurts."

"They didn't just hit," she whispered, voice breaking now. "They shattered everything."

Jade sank beside her again, this time not trying to restrain her. Just to be there.

"I thought I could carry all of this," she whispered, her eyes distant now—fixed on something far beyond the walls. "The war. The curse. The pain. But I can't even carry myself."

Oldren knelt beside her, the old warrior awkward but steady. "Then let us carry it with ye."

Her lips trembled. For a moment, it looked like she might collapse entirely. But instead, she straightened just a bit, her spine shaking but refusing to stay bent.

She looked to Jade—his face young and broken. Then to Oldren—his face weathered and tired.

"We get him back." she whispered.

Oldren nodded once.

"And the Queen?" Jade asked, voice low.

Onyx's fiery eyes narrowed.

"She doesn't get to die easily."