Chapter 23

She woke with a sharp inhale, eyes snapping open, her body lurching upright as she gasped, her hands moving to her sides to prop her up. Her fingers felt dirty, gritty.

She looked down and saw stones, like an uneven roadway with dirt in the cracks. The air was cool and still, not sterile like the ship. It smelled like soil and life--but also something older, like damp stone warmed by a sun that had long since vanished.

She sat in the middle of a path made of weathered cobblestones, pressed together by age rather than precision. Dirt filled the gaps--the kind that settles over decades, not by design.

On either side of her rose towering walls built of stone blocks, misshapen and covered in thick, reaching vines. The green tangled upward until it disappeared into a sky she couldn't see. The light here was soft--natural, but strange, as if filtered through a canopy that didn't quite exist.

Brynn turned her head to one end of the path, then the other, the path stretching out endlessly in both directions.

She heard noises, like leaves moving in the wind, branches parting the air as it passed through them, but she didn't see anything but the sides of the path and the road beneath her. She looked up at the place the sky should be, but she winced as she glanced at it, like looking at a sun. There was only a pale white, but nothing else. It devoured the tops of the vines.

"Brynn."

A disembodied voice called to her, but she couldn't even tell from where. She stopped and turned.

No one was there.

"Over here," it said again, softer.

She turned back the other way, but still saw nothing.

She narrowed her eyes, looking both ways, trying to will herself to feel which direction to go. She turned to her left and began walking, trying to listen for the call again.

She walked, resisting the urge to touch the vines with her fingers. Then she saw it: A gap in the vines, barely wider than her shoulders. A soft white glow pulsed beyond it. She stepped closer, brushing aside the foliage.

Beyond it, embedded in the stone, was a shallow alcove. She stepped across and looked around as the vines closer behind her.

The walls here were different--smoother, circular. And at the center of that space: a cage.

But it wasn't made of steel or bars.

It shimmered--lines of energy held in place like lightning caught mid-strike, forming a cage of radiant tension. It hummed quietly, like it was alive.

Behind those lines, a figure stepped forward.

Hands reached out and gripped two bars. A face leaned close. Brynn froze.

The face gazing back at her from inside the prison was her face... but it wasn't.

The girl's hair was blonde, paler than Brynn's. Her eyes glowed faintly--a color that didn't exist outside dreams. Her face was the same shape, but softer, younger. Or maybe even older. Just different. It made her stomach churn.

"Are you here to help me?" the girl asked.

Brynn stepped closer, voice caught in her throat. "Who are you?"

The girl smiled sadly. "That doesn't matter."

Brynn frowned. "Then how do I get you out?"

The girl's fingers curled tighter around the bars. "I don't know," she said. "If I did... I wouldn't be in here."

Brynn tossed her head from side to side. Right. She took another cautious step forward, still watching the girl--herself, but not.

The glow from the bars reflected in both their eyes, like they were mirrors of the same storm. "Are you going to help me?"

"How did you end up here?"

She rolled her eyes. "Why does it matter?"

Brynn's mouth opened to say something, but closed again. She frowned and tried to think of a response, but couldn't come up with anything.

"I'm sorry. I've been here a long time. I haven't seen a friendly face, or anyone else for that matter, in a very long time."

"I'm sorry too. That sounds awful." She reached a hand towards the bars, but hesitated before she touched it.

The other girl looked at her, watching her reach for it, obviously eager for her to do so.

Brynn steeled herself and touched one of the bars of light. It didn't hurt. It felt cool to the touch, like water just turning to ice. She grabbed ahold of the bar in her hand. The bar split open, receding from her hand, and the entire cage seemed to slowly melt away. Brynn heard a low noise, almost like steam, but it was so subtle she couldn't discern it.

As the bars dropped to the floor, the other girl looked around in wonder. She threw her arms around Brynn, but then jumped back. She looked away from her, squirming. "Sorry. I... I don't know why I did that."

Brynn smiled. "It's fine. I am sure I would have done the same."

The girl studied Brynn, eyes narrowing. "I certainly hope not!"

Brynn took a step back, surprised, a little shocked. Her eyes were wide, her eyebrows raised. "Oh?"

The girl seemed to snap back at her, and Brynn swore she heard an animal noise, like a growl, somewhere in the words. "Yes. You shouldn't!"

Brynn held up her hands. "I'm sorry. It won't happen again."

"Good."

Brynn nodded. She smiled uneasily. "Should we get out of here?"

Her complexion seemed to change, her expression suddenly happy. "Right. Of course!"

Brynn stared at her for a long moment, waiting to see if she might change again, flying into anger. She made herself smile and turned to move towards the path.

The other girl seemed almost giddy. As they reached the edge of the path, Brynn reached forward and parted the vines, revealing the same empty path she'd arrived on.

She moved out onto the stones and continued to hold the vines back as the other girl followed her through. Immediately, she looked around, taking in the sights. She even winced back as she looked skyward and then looked down to try to shield her eyes. Then she looked at Brynn. "Now what?"

Brynn's forehead wrinkled. "Wait, you don't know the way out of here?"

"I've never been here."

"I can help." Another voice.

Both girls spun around to try to find the source.

Then the other girl seemed to grow enraged, moving slowly to stand in front of Brynn. Her eyes filled with what looked like honey-colored ink, filling with fire.

She reached behind her, steering Brynn directly behind her.

A shadow began to stretch into the space from between one of the vines. At first, it was only distortion, like an eerie smoke. The dark haze shifted from a cloud shape, the bottom stretching down to the stones and filling out.

It wasn't a person. Not at first.

The form was fluid--wrong. Limbs that shifted and bent in unnatural ways, like melted wax trying to remember how to be human. But slowly, it began to stabilize. A spine. Arms. A face.

Brynn reeled back. Another face she knew, but again, different.

Not the broken, hunted version Brynn had known. This one looked younger. Softer. Clean. Untouched.

"Brynn," he said, with a voice that was warm and safe and gentle. "You found me."

Brynn's breath hitched. Her body went still.

But the girl in front of her--herself, but harder--stepped forward towards the new person. "No," she said, flatly. "That's not him."

Brynn reached a hand out instinctively, but then she slapped it away. "No! Don't."

Brynn leaned her head around the girl in front of her to try to get a better look, but the girl continued to try to block her. "How do you know... it looks just like him?"

"Because. He doesn't belong here. He's not from here."

The not-Idris smiled. Brynn felt a rush of warmth swell in her chest, too fast and too strong. It was him--his face, his voice--but somewhere deep inside, she knew her reaction wasn't right. It was too much. She swallowed, trying to push it down.

"I just want you to be okay," he said. "Isn't that what you wanted?"

Brynn couldn't speak. Her heart pounded too hard.

The other girl snarled. "You're a lie! You're the fantasy of little girls! We don't believe in fairy tales anymore, we've grown out of that. And this form, this face, this person you've chosen to portray is not enough for us to fall into your trap. I will not let you pull her in."

Not-Idris looked hurt. "But... I only want to help. To keep you safe? What's wrong with that?"

The girl surged forward, flames raging from her limbs and off the top of her head. She roared at him as she surged forward. "We don't need you! We'll never need you!"

Brynn finally spoke, her voice quiet. "Why? What's the worst he could do?"

The other Brynn turned sharply to face her. "If you let him in, he'll hurt us. They'll get us. We'll DIE! And it will be all YOUR fault!"

Brynn blinked at her. "M... Me? My fault," she stuttered, completely caught off guard by the accusation.

The tension between them burned. The girl--herself, but full of fire--stepped between Brynn and not-Idris, shaking.

"If you give in to that thing, we die."

Brynn stepped forward, reaching her hand toward the angry version of herself. "Why can't we have both? I don't understand."

She stepped towards Brynn, the flames growing higher, her voice growing deeper. "If you let him hurt us, if you let him get close, then you'll be distracted. And then what will you do? What will you do when they come for you?"

Brynn frowned, shaking her head.

"I don't want to fight you," she said. "You're a part of me, aren't you? You kept us alive. You protected us. But we can't keep surviving like this--always clenched, always afraid."

The other Brynn didn't answer at first. Her fire flickered. Her expression twisted between fury and uncertainty.

"You think he's safety? He's not. He's the memory of safety. The lie we built when we had nothing else. And if you choose him, you choose to be blind again. You choose to forget what this galaxy is to us."

Brynn stepped closer, her voice softer. "I don't want to forget, but I want more than fear. I want to stop going on like I am just trying to stay alive, like I'm always moments from drowning."

The girl's flames surged one more time. "You'll regret it," she warned. "They'll come, and you'll wish you had me."

Brynn shook her head. "I'll still have you, just not like this."

Brynn reached for her. The other girl looked down at Brynn's hand, hesitating, then looked up at Brynn. Her rage seemed to ebb, doubt clouding her expression. "But... what if..."

Brynn frowned and exhaled slowly. "I know you're scared. I am too. But we can't keep pretending that fear is the same thing as strength."

She glanced at the other girl's hand--her own hand--and reached toward it again, this time not with urgency, but with quiet certainty. "We're not weak for wanting more. We're not broken because we hope."

The other Brynn looked down at the outstretched hand, her mouth tight, her eyes flickering. Fear still held her, but it wasn't alone anymore. Something else pushed against it--longing, maybe, or exhaustion.

"If we keep living like we're waiting for the next blow, we'll never stop bracing for it. And I want more than that," Brynn said, her voice steady. "We both do."

The fire in the girl's eyes dimmed. She looked at Brynn, really looked at her, and gave the smallest nod.

When Brynn's hand met hers, the light flared.

The girl screamed, and the light that made up her form began to darken--not all at once, but in slow, deliberate strokes. It was like shadow had been painted across her skin, each brush marking the end of her glow. Layer by layer, the brightness dimmed until nothing remained.

It didn't vanish--it surged into her like a gust of wind, sudden and overwhelming. Brynn felt it crash against her, then roll through her like a rising tide of warmth.

When it was over, she stood alone. The not-Idris watched her with a calm, unreadable expression.

She looked at him, eyes wet. "What do I do now?"

He smiled. "Anything you want. You finally let yourself want it."

The light around them swelled until she couldn't see.

Then she woke up with a gasp, her back still held in place by the side of the bed.

She was on the floor of her quarters on Irelis.

The cool, faintly humming surface beneath her palms reminded her she was no longer on that ancient path. No vines. No lightning. No prison of herself.

Just her room, dimly lit, and completely quiet.

She pressed a hand to her chest. Her heartbeat thundered beneath it.

Slowly, she leaned back against the bedframe again, her gaze drifting to the ceiling, then to the vial--still clutched in her other hand.

Empty.

Her fingers relaxed, and the chain slipped from her grasp, clinking gently to the floor.

It was over.

Or maybe it had just begun.