A cacophony of leaping insects seem to have split from deep inside of me, crawling the underside of my skin and leaping in tune with my pulse. I draw my legs to my chest, straighten them, cross them, switch them over. My fingers drum at the ground. At my back, shrubbery digs in, uncomfortable no matter how many times I shift.

I toss yet another glance over my shoulder. Still nothing. The forest's empty state is illuminated all the more by the climbing sun, every shadow picked out with clarity. No specs of gold. No familiar laughter. There's a vacant space left, yawning, desperate to be filled.

"They say a watched pot never boils, you know."

Jolting, I twist around, forcing myself to relax when I meet Dalton's soft gaze. The red tints in his hair catch in the early light. His legs stretch out in line with his carefully-laid sword sheath.

I run my tongue over my lips. "What do you mean?"

"It's a saying. Take it as the more impatiently you wait, the longer it will seem until what you're waiting for happens. Try focusing on something else."

My gaze darts to the sky as if it will lend me the distraction I need. All I see is the drifting clouds, the cracks of blue between them, tinted the same shade as Sarielle's eyes. Another twig probes the small of my back. With a sigh, I push up onto my feet, fists clenching as I rock on my heels. "I can't."

"Have I ever told you about the time I watched a storm?"

Frowning, I spin to face him. A glint has lit in his eyes, parting their grey clouds. "What does that have to do with anything?"

My tone is sharper than I mean. I wince as he ducks his head, uncertainty wavering his fragile smile. "I'm sorry. Sarie said you liked listening to stories."

She talks about me with Dalton. An odd sort of warmth unfurls in my chest, stiffening my nod yet pleasant all the same. "I do. Sorry. You... you haven't told me that. Please, keep going."

"Alright." He sits a little straighter, expression carved soft by his distant smile. "It announced itself first with thunder. I rushed outside as soon as I heard those rumbling peels, and climbed right up to the top of the barn roof." He laughs softly. "It was stupid and reckless, of course, but I was young and too caught in my awe for sense. It was like the sky was at war with itself, constantly split by dazzling forks, that beat of thunder rolling so deep it shook my chest."

I can't help but creep closer, watching the delight in his face, curiosity spooled around my heart. "Were you not afraid?"

"No. Foolishly, perhaps. My mother certainly told me so afterward." He runs a vacant hand through his hair, his gaze landing with more precision on me. "But perhaps the most magical things will always be frightening and dangerous to love."

A thin tremor slides down my spine. I try for a returned smile, but it's slippery, so I look back to the forest instead. "I hope I see a storm one day."

"You will. I'll put in a good word with the weather for you."

It takes me a couple of seconds to find the joke in his tone. I fumble for a response a little more creative than a simple thanks, yet before I can grasp ahold of anything, my thoughts splinter. Serrated, fiery pain erupts in my chest, searing my insides, spreading a multitude of cracks from that fragile pit. With a gasp that yields little air, I stumble forward. The ground tips and whirls. If not for the sturdy hands that catch me, I would trip into the dirt.

"Hey." Dalton's voice blurs, drowned by the pounding in my ears. "You okay?"

"I..." Bracing myself against his chest, I try to pull myself upright, but another aching wave sweeps away the temporary anchor. I squeeze my eyes shut, curling my fingers into his tunic. Nothing but short pants will escape. They're near impossible to thread into words. "It... it hurts..."

"Alright. Just try to breathe." He sounds impossibly calm. I cling to that level note to his voice, using it to ground me. His arms close over my back, and I shiver into them, lips pressed hard over the whimper that threatens to emerge.

One ear must be tilted upward, for I hear his breath catch. His grip on me stiffens. Shrinking further into him, I shift, blinking as I search the spot he stares into.

The forest has brightened further. It's enough to make out the hazel-coloured pelt of an animal slinking through the undergrowth.

More hot agony courses through my veins. My teeth press together so hard I'm sure one will break. I want to ask him what the creature is, but the strength evades me.

"Woah, look!" The excitement in the new voice clashes so oddly with my slicing pain that I hardly register it as belonging to Carlin. She skips in from the left, dark braids swinging behind her as she slows to admire the animal. "It's a dog!"

"No," Dalton says, his voice hard enough to pour fear into the mix stirring inside. "That's a wolf. Stay back."

She falters, glancing up at him, the usual mischief slipping from her expression. She edges back a careful step, although still hovers just in front of us. Her eyes drift sideways. "What's up with Nathan?"

"I don't know." His hand leaves my shoulder, forcing me to clutch tighter onto his tunic. A helpless bolt of shame strikes through me. I can't even stand on my own two feet. Will the Tía even believe I could be one of them, so weak and trembling, a burden to the very people I once wished I could protect?

Steeling myself, I flip around, managing barely a second in my own support before my vision swims and I topple backwards into Dalton again. I bring a hand to my head, nails digging into my temples. Stop. All this time, and there's still a foolish part of me that believes the pain will go away if I beg.

The wolf has crept closer, emerging from the longer grass. A pair of rounded, triangular ears twitch. I catch a glimpse of its dark eyes, lined with a paler spark of colour I struggle to put a name to, my thoughts too buried in thick cotton.

"Carlin, take Nathan from me," Dalton says, voice tight. "Both of you, go back to Harper and the others. I'll handle this."

"Of course, Captain." Carlin's flashed smile is too hasty as she rushes over to wrap an arm around my chest. I extract myself from Dalton, pressing my weight into her side. She stumbles with a grunt. "Thank the stars you're light."

Hand pushing against her shoulder, I make some feeble attempt to steady myself. "I... I'm sorry."

She shushes me. "You're alright. Come on, we'll leave our capable leader to deal with that scary dog."

As if in response, the animal lets out a rumbling growl, sinking into a crouch. More of that pale colour is woven into its fur, thin slashes like scars crossing an irregular pattern over its flank. Pink. The colour that stains the barest edge of clouds during sunset, before the fiery oranges begin. My heart's hammer doesn't aid my attempt to calm the throbbing in my chest.

The scraping whine of a weapon being drawn cuts the air. Dalton lifts his curved blade, crossing it in a defensive stance as he takes a slow step towards the wolf. It growls again, lip curling back to reveal glistening fangs. The ache twists. I draw in a sharp breath, retreating as far against Carlin as possible.

The wolf's eyes slide over Dalton, narrowed and glinting with that pink tinge, then land on me. It visibly tenses.

"Go," Dalton orders. He's gone rigid.

Carlin tugs at me, but my feet are rooted to the earth, heavy as stone to drag backwards. Curiosity and nonsensical yearning twine with shuddering fear. There isn't time to force myself to move. The wolf is already pouncing.

Carlin attempts to wrench me out of the way, but a series of sharp scratches still meet my forearm, slicing open my sleeve. The wolf lands with a stumble barely a pace away. I spin around, the world rocking, part of me grateful for the surface sting of pain. A shout rings in my ears, but I haven't the chance to decipher it. The wolf leaps again, and this time its aim holds true.

It knocks the air from my lungs. With no hope of catching myself, I fall, my spine striking the ground. Its claws dig into the front of my tunic, breaking skin beneath. I'm ruining my Oscensi uniform. We can't afford to shred another set of clothes.

Heels digging into the dirt, I squirm, the wolf's weight pinning me against the ground. Its snarling muzzle is all I can see. It prowls forward, the pink in its eyes falling to shadow. I need to breathe, but I'm frozen, my head pounding and heavy as rock. Aches funnel out from where its paws dig into my ribs. The edges of my vision flicker. I have to fight the urge, desperately clinging to anything outside the agony threatening to pull me under.

The wolf's head twists to the side, as if puzzled. It steps closer, snout wrinkled with its next growl. The sound scrapes a blade over my bones. A broken cry slips out. Stop. I need this to stop.

I barely see the flash of Dalton's sword, but the wolf's yelp cuts through me as a knife, quickly smothered by the relief of its lifted weight. My chest heaves in its absence. I roll onto my side in place of standing, legs tangling in Fiesi's cloak, as I blink through the shimmering sheen that clouds my vision.

A trail of crimson splatters the grass. At its end, the wolf lays on its side, a deep gash winding up from its belly. It claws at the ground, its growls no less thunderous. The colour in its eyes flashes with fury.

Even as I watch, it climbs to its paws, shaking droplets of blood from its fur. Sparks, pink sparks, swarm around the wound, bursting into luminous wisps of flame. They sew together the skin with the practised ease I've seen so many times with Fiesi's flame, or even my own, no remains left but bloodied stains to mix with the pink stripes.

"Synté," I breathe, thought only trailing after the word a moment later. A Synté, like Fiesi's bird, Rigel. They partner with Tía, aiding in the control and manipulation of flame. Is there a Tía nearby?

The wolf snaps to look at me again, baring its teeth. Dalton steps between us. He's poised, his blood-streaked sword pointed at the Synté as he plants himself like a shield, but I see the tremble of his hand on the hilt. He's right to be afraid. Fiesi told me that the Synté were once the most powerful beings on earth, that their word is worth that of a god. And it was Rigel that was so sure I should die.

This has nothing to do with Dalton. He shouldn't be the one putting himself at risk.

Jaw clenched, I pull my legs under me and attempt to stand. Another spear of pain embeds amongst my ribs. My eyes sting. I can only manage to rise to one knee, the other too heavy to lift. My arm digs in under my chest. "Stop," I manage to gasp out. "Don't... don't hurt him."

Dalton glances back and edges further in front of me. "I can handle this, Nathan." He sounds less sure than he did before. "Carlin went to get Harper. Stay back until they get here."

"No." I grip my middle tighter, willing myself to push through that awful ache. "This isn't--"

"Mira!"

The grate the foreign voice trails after it is nothing compared to the pain I already feel, but I wince all the same. It throbs in a different way, somewhere far at the back of my skull. Sucking in a breath, I twist towards it, only for my heart to skip a beat.

A woman has emerged from the same forest track the wolf came from. Auburn curls spill over her shoulders, loose and tangled, their ends dipped in that same sunset-pink shade. It matches both her eyes and the flickering blade in her hands. Wisps of flame drift from its pointed tip, lively and restless as if they can't quite decide on an exact form to settle on. They slice through my heart all the same.

Another Tía. I can't breathe.

The wolf -- Mira, her Synté, I assume -- rises from its crouch, turning towards her. Their eyes lock. They must be talking to one another along their bond.

Abruptly, the Tía's gaze jerks to me. Her brows draw in. She stalks forward, the spear dropping to her side. A hazel-brown similar to Mira's pelt swathes her thick tunic, split by the pink band around her waist and paler dusting at her shoulders. Tufts of fur sneak out the ends of her long sleeves.

Lowering his sword, Dalton stretches out an arm to block her path. He gives an awkward duck of his head in greeting. "Thank you. I hope I didn't, erm, hurt your wolf." His voice is surprisingly sturdy for the nerves that crack it.

The woman's nose twitches as if she's caught an unpleasant scent. In a rapid movement, her hand whips towards his chest, but Dalton is ready. He catches her wrist.

"No, thanks," he says, a little more firm. "I'd rather not go through that again."

She jerks back, her eyes widening briefly. Carefully, she extracts her hand from his, glancing back at Mira as she clicks her tongue. "Move." She tosses the word at Dalton with casual disregard.

He doesn't react. "None of us have come to harm you, least of all Nathan. Let him be."

"Nathan," she echoes, something like disdain roughing the name. Heat crawls up the back of my neck. She peers at me over his arm, head cocked just slightly to the side. It's almost identical to the edged confusion her wolf displayed. "Irritating," she murmurs, looking back at Dalton. "You must be Fiesi's mess."

Before he can reply, she whips out her fiery spear, slashing a jagged line through the air. He staggers back to avoid it, lifting his sword to parry with, although the blades hardly make contact before she flicks hers and it disintergrates into a flurry of pink sparks. She hums, one corner of her mouth quirking upwards. In an almost floating stride, she drifts towards me. I snatch an inhale, flinching back as much as I can. The pit in my chest is dug deep. Somewhere at its bottom, my flame must writhe at her presence, yet I feel none of its eager anticipation.

Dalton starts after her. Without a glance back, she holds out a hand in his direction. "Don't worry yourself, Cormé. I just want a look at him." She crouches down, meeting my eyes, a frown creasing her brow. "Mira says you reek of Shaula."

It's a scramble to find my voice. "Shaula?" A hollow pang ripples through my chest. That's the name that slipped from a fragment of broken memory, that Fiesi refused to help me place. He was scared when I spoke it. This woman simply looks caught, as if she teeters on the edge of anger but is unsure whether she wants to leap.

She merely hums again in response, her bright pink gaze roaming from my face to my tunic. Her finger skims my sleeve, picking at the tears where Mira scratched me, before it slides to the edge of my arm, all so agonisingly slow. Her expression keeps shifting. She must still be deep in an internal conversation with Mira.

"Are you bleeding under there?" she asks eventually.

I give way to her gentle tug, letting her tease my arm from my middle. "No," I say, though the answer is already clear.

Her frown only deepens. She stands, drumming her fingers on her side. I flex my own hand, not entirely sure what to do with it now it hangs loose at my side. Perhaps I should try to push to my feet, but I'm sure I'll only make a fool out of myself in front of her.

"My..." I swallow. "My name isn't really Nathan. It's Noli."

"I know." Her attention flicks to my eyes again. "Mira can't make contact with your flame."

"Is that what..." My hand drifts back to my chest. "Her reaching for it. That's why it... it hurt." And still does, although the continued ache shouldn't be a surprise by now. I sense her growing bemusement, and hurriedly add, "It's trapped. These binds, they--"

"Get away from him!"

The sudden intrusion of Harper's voice, paired with his form skidding so close to me, is enough to startle me backwards. I fall, at least strong enough to catch myself now. Sitting half-upright, trying to gather the willpower to stand, I watch as he thrusts his sword at the Tía. Her easy hop out of the way only tightens the hostility clutching at his taut muscles.

"I've dealt with enough of your witchcraft," he adds with a warning note.

The woman smiles. Her words trip with a faint laugh. "Irritating, but amusing." Strings of pink fire weave between her fingers, moulding into a long knife.

Gritting my teeth, I pull my feet under me. A hand lands on my shoulder before I can move. "Quick," Carlin hisses. "Before she attacks again."

"No," I protest, even as she helps haul me onto my feet. "No, wait." My head spins and my chest screams, but I don't collapse. I pull away from her, and she lets me, startled at the abrupt movement.

She sighs. "You're really obsessed with playing hero, huh?"

I ignore her. This is far from anything heroic. I simply don't want anyone to get hurt unnecessarily. Grabbing for Harper's arm, I tug. "Stop. There's no need to fight."

He twists to look at me, then glances over at Dalton. All he can offer is a helpless shrug. His sword still hangs loose at his side.

Reluctantly, Harper lowers his own weapon, although his gaze remains a blade he pins the Tía with. "I know exactly where to cut you," he says. "Don't try anything."

She emits another almost-laugh, although the knife collapses to harmless licks of flame. "You really are violent, your sort, aren't you?"

"Your wolf attacked us first."

She lifts a shoulder. "Forgive me. Mira caught a scent that displeased her." Her glance at me is hardly subtle. I grip Harper's arm tighter for support. "But I suppose we are forgetting our manners. I'm Rosi Lisiaz." In a near-playful manner, she holds out a hand, her smile lopsided.

Hesitantly, Harper takes it. He's rigid. "Harper Headley," he offers, voice almost rising into a question.

She gives his hand a careless shake and turns her attention straight back to me, her lips flattening. "And this is... well, Noli Katasko."

Katasko. I roll the name over in my mind, searching for familiarity, coming up with nothing. Fiesi hasn't mentioned it, but then he's answered very few of my questions. We're both as lost as one another when it comes to my parentage. I swallow, struggling for the courage to voice my confusion.

Rosi flicks a curly lock of hair from her shoulder. "Well, this was a fascinating encounter, but I best retreat before Mira gets impatient. Noli, you coming?"

As if summoned by her name, the wolf slides in at her side, flank skimming her bare leg. I glance from her to Rosi, stunned by the casual nature of the request. "I... You want me to..."

"Come inside, yes. Quickly, before anyone can succeed in talking me out of it."

I was expecting this to be far more of a battle. Perhaps Fiesi is a unique case, after all. Still, nerves tremor up my spine, trailing a shiver after them. Forcing myself to nod, I release Harper's arm and stumble forward.

I barely manage a step before he grabs my shoulder. "Hold on. He's not following you anywhere."

She spreads her hands. "Do you not trust me?"

Harper's gaze hardens. "Not in the slightest."

"Harper, calm down," Dalton interjects, closing in on my right. I can't deny my rush of relief at his gentle presence. "Rosi, we mean no offence, but we've had to learn to be wary in our current position. We can't let Nathan go in alone, but if I could accompany him, we'd be happy to comply."

She raises a brow. "Quite articulate, aren't you?" An exchanged glance with Mira, and she gives way to a grin. "Alright. I can be the first to escort a Cormé through the barrier."

"Technically, Fiesi already took Sarielle," Carlin chips in. We all snap to look at her as she twirls into place beside Dalton. She has a way of seemingly appearing from nowhere.

Amusement sparks in Rosi's eyes, but she doesn't remark. Aloud, anyway; her wolf gives what sounds like an exasperated growl and turns to march off into the trees. She steps back to follow, beckoning to us. "Very well. Come on."

Reality crashes down all at once, leaving me breathless. Aorila. I'm about to step inside Aorila. The place from Ligari's drawing, different as it will be now. The place rebuilt from the ruins of her illusions. Fiesi's home. My home, once, in another life. I suddenly doubt whether I can face it.

Dalton curls a hand over my wrist, steadying me. "Does it still hurt?"

Somehow, I manage to shake my head, swallowing the lie. "I'll be fine." I don't let myself touch my chest, although another instinct leaps up my throat. "Rosi?"

She turns, the beginnings of impatience showing itself in her folded arms.

"Can you... can you tell the other Synté not to reach for my flame?" My stomach knots. It doesn't feel right to ask such things. Yet I don't know if I can withstand another bout of agony so great.

After a pause, she nods, although thought continues to flicker behind her eyes as she examines me. "If that hurt you..." She hums a sigh. "It might be best to put you under until we're through the barrier."

My mouth goes dry. "Put me under?"

"Knock you out." Dalton's expression darkens. He moves a step in front of me. "Are you sure that's a good idea?"

She levels his gaze, that sparking entertainment slipping away. "I'm trying to be kind here, Cormé. You seemed to recognise the action. You must know it's harmless."

Protest lodges in his expression, but instead he turns to me. He offers a strained smile. "Would you rather that?"

I look from him to Rosi, and my skin prickles. I hate how much of me wants to agree without a second thought. I hate that even after all this time, I'm foolish enough to bend to the will of a stranger, to neglect to defend myself until it's too late. I hate how desperate I am to be free of pain, if only for a fleeting while.

I hate that part of me wants this if only for a snatch of restful sleep.

Even as I nod, shoving aside that squirming semblance of pride, I despise the action. "I would. Please." My voice is fragile, cracking on my tongue.

Dalton leaves my side as she approaches, and I wobble on my heels. I grit my teeth. Perhaps I simply hate being weak. I don't let myself flinch as she presses a palm to my chest. I meet her eyes as fiercely as I can muster. Some compensation for how easily I'm giving in. "Don't you dare harm Dalton and the others while I... I'm under."

She smirks just as searing heat floods between my ribs. "I was beginning to doubt you had any fire."

I don't have the chance to reply. The heat quickly cools to a soothing liquid, washing through my veins with a calm I haven't felt since my flame. It's all too easy to sink beneath the surface.

───── ⋆⋅♛⋅⋆ ─────

Rosi turned out to be way more fun than I expected. It's probably because she has a wolf. It makes her cool by default.

Also!! I'm not sure I've mentioned, but I'm trying to name all the Synté after stars. So Mira is a point in the constellation Cetus. Which is a whale. I never said they're all going to make sense.

Oh and Dalton is a good boy, as always. I need to appreciate him more.

- Pup