The leader, clearly noticing how shattered Darius and I looked, gestured to a small tent nearby. "You both need to rest. This isn't a battle you can fight exhausted. Let us handle the planning for now."

I didn't argue—honestly, I was so tired I probably would've fallen asleep standing up if I wasn't propped up by sheer adrenaline and spite. Darius, though, looked like he wanted to protest.

"I can't just rest!" he said, his voice rising slightly. "Not after—after everything you've just told me. My father—" He stopped, swallowing hard, his hands trembling at his sides.

The leader placed a firm but gentle hand on his shoulder. "You'll do no good to anyone if you burn yourself out, Darius. Rest. Regain your strength. We'll need you at your best when the time comes."

I nudged him with my elbow. "Hey, listen to the wise rebel leader. They've clearly got their act together more than we do right now."

He shot me a glare, but it was half-hearted at best. Finally, he sighed and nodded. "Fine. But only for a little while."

The leader smiled faintly. "I'll have someone bring you food and water. And Darius—" They paused, their expression softening. "I know this is difficult for you. But you're not alone in this. Remember that."

Darius nodded stiffly, and we made our way to the tent.

Inside, the tent was simple but comfortable—a few thick mats on the ground, some soft blankets, and a faint smell of herbs that was oddly soothing. I collapsed onto one of the mats with a groan, stretching out like a starfish.

"Well," I said, staring up at the tent ceiling, "today's been a wild ride, huh? Just your average day of betrayal, ancient secrets, and finding out your dad's actually your uncle and your uncle's your dad. Totally normal."

Darius sat down on the mat across from me, his shoulders slumped. "This isn't funny, Alexia."

"I'm not trying to be funny," I said, turning my head to look at him. "I'm trying to cope. Big difference."

He ran a hand through his hair, his face a mixture of frustration and pain. "Everything I've ever believed—it's all a lie. My father—" He broke off, shaking his head. "How am I supposed to process this?"

I sat up, leaning forward. "Look, I'm not gonna pretend I know what you're going through. But what I do know is that you're not defined by who your parents are—or what they've done. You're your own person, Darius. And from what I've seen, you're a pretty decent one."

He gave me a small, almost bitter smile. "Thanks, I guess."

I rolled my eyes. "Wow, don't get too emotional on me there, buddy."

He let out a soft chuckle, the first hint of light I'd seen in him since we'd heard the truth. "You're impossible, you know that?"

"Yep," I said, grinning. "And you love it."

Before he could respond, someone knocked lightly on the tent pole. A young woman stepped inside, carrying a tray of food and water. "The leader asked me to bring this for you," she said with a polite smile, setting the tray down between us.

"Thanks," I said, my stomach growling at the sight of the food. I grabbed a piece of bread and bit into it, humming in satisfaction. "Oh my God, this is amazing. I don't even care if it's just bread. Best bread I've ever had."

Darius shook his head but reached for some food as well. "You're ridiculous."

"And you're boring," I shot back around a mouthful of bread.

We ate in comfortable silence for a while, the weight of the day's revelations still heavy but somehow a little more bearable.

As the evening settled in, I stretched out on my mat, feeling the exhaustion finally catch up to me. "We'll figure this out, Darius," I said quietly. "One step at a time... remember?"

He didn't respond right away, but when he did, his voice was steady. "I hope you're right."

"I'm always right," I said, smirking.

He snorted softly. "Goodnight, Alexia."

"Goodnight, Darius."

That night, my mind started wandering. First whole scene flipped like a switch, and I was no longer in the tent but standing in some warped version of my living room. Everything was stretched, distorted, like someone had tried to redraw it from memory but forgot the proportions. The walls leaned inward, and the furniture was way too big, like I'd been shrunk down. I turned, expecting to see my brother glued to his game controller, but the couch was empty. Weird.

"Mom? Dad?" I called, my voice echoing unnaturally. Nothing. Just silence.

I walked toward the kitchen, which seemed miles away now, but my feet felt glued to the floor. My heart started racing as a faint whisper brushed past my ear.

"Alexia..."

Oh, great. Whispering voices. Because that's not creepy at all. I whipped around, expecting to see... well, I don't know what. Maybe my brother playing a prank. But the room was empty, save for the giant, warped furniture.

"Who's there?" I demanded, trying to sound braver than I felt.

No answer. Instead, the walls began to ripple like water, and the kitchen table appeared in front of me out of nowhere, the chairs filling themselves with shadowy figures.

I froze. "What. The. Hell."

The figures were blurry, but I could tell who they were supposed to be. My mom, my dad, my brother—all sitting there, perfectly still, faces turned toward me like they were waiting for something.

"Mom?" My voice cracked. "What's going on?"

She blinked. Once. Slowly. "Do you think this is enough?" she said, her voice sharp and cold, like it had been stripped of any warmth it used to have.

"Enough of what?" I asked, taking a step back.

"Enough to make you see," my dad said, his face blurring at the edges like static on an old TV.

"See what?!" I was yelling now, my hands shaking.

"You've always been in the background, haven't you?" my mom continued, her tone cutting. "Always overlooked, always forgotten. Why would anyone choose you for something important?"

Wow. Okay. Low blow. Even for dream-parents. "Gee, thanks for the pep talk, dream mom," I shot back, sarcasm practically dripping from my voice. "Really makes me feel great about myself."

But they ignored me. Of course they did.

"You're nothing special," my dad added, his shadowy form leaning closer, his face twisting into something unrecognizable. "Why you? Why not someone stronger? Smarter? Worthy?"

"Wow, okay," I said, throwing up my hands. "Thanks for the vote of confidence, dream dad. Real inspiring. You should do motivational speaking."

My brother, who'd been silent this whole time, finally looked up from his game controller. His face was clearer than the others, and for a moment, he actually looked like himself. "Because it's you," he said softly, his voice cutting through the noise like a knife.

"What?" I blinked, thrown off by his sudden clarity.

"Because you're the one who sees. You see everything they don't. You're the one who never stops questioning."

I swallowed hard, my sarcasm failing me for once. "I don't... I don't understand."

"You don't need to yet," he said, his voice fading as the room began to dissolve. "But you will. You always notice the cracks. That's why it's you, Alexia. That's why it's always been you."

And just like that, the dream fell apart. The distorted walls collapsed, the shadows disappeared, and I was falling, falling through the floor, through nothingness, through my own confusion and frustration.

I woke up with a gasp, my heart pounding like I'd just run a marathon. The room was dim, the faint glow of dawn creeping through the cracks in the walls. I sat up, clutching the pendant around my neck like it was the only thing anchoring me to reality.

"What the hell was that?" I whispered to myself, still catching my breath.

But the dream lingered, the words echoing in my mind: You're the one who sees. That's why it's you.

I didn't know what any of it meant, but one thing was painfully clear—this pendant wasn't just some random trinket. It had chosen me, for whatever reason. And as much as I hated to admit it, I had a feeling my life was about to get a whole lot more complicated.

"Great," I muttered, flopping back onto the makeshift bed. "As if it wasn't already a circus."

With a sigh, I stared at the ceiling, my mind racing. I wasn't special. I wasn't a hero. I was just me. Alexia. The girl who never got noticed. The girl who blended into the background.

But I was here.... 

The next morning was the first time in... well, ever, that I didn't feel like I was being chased by doom itself. No guards bursting in, no creepy sand-monsters lurking in the shadows, no pendant glowing ominously like it was about to nuke us into oblivion. Just the faint sound of laughter and chatter from outside, the hum of life going on while I tried to figure out what exactly I was doing with mine.

Darius was already up, of course, because apparently, he's one of those people who wake up at the crack of dawn ready to conquer the world. I found him sitting by the edge of the camp, staring out at the dunes like he was auditioning for the cover of "Brooding Prince Weekly."

"Morning, sunshine," I called as I plopped down beside him.

He glanced at me, one brow raised. "You seem... chipper."

"Chipper? Oh, no, I'm just sleep-deprived and running on sheer spite," I said, shooting him a grin. "So, what's on the agenda today? More running for our lives? Mysterious glowing jewelry? Or do we finally get a day off?"

He actually chuckled at that, which was a nice change from his usual serious-and-slightly-panicked vibe. "A day off might not be the worst idea. After everything... we probably need it."

"Did you just admit I was right about something?" I gasped, clutching my chest in mock surprise. "Stop the presses. The prince agrees with me."

Darius rolled his eyes, but there was a small smile tugging at his lips. Progress.

We spent the day wandering around the camp, and honestly? It was... kind of nice. The people here were warm and welcoming, which was still throwing Darius off. I think he was waiting for them to suddenly pull out pitchforks and declare us enemies of the state or something.

At one point, we ended up by the edge of a small garden, which looked like it had been wrestled out of the desert through sheer stubbornness. A group of kids was playing nearby, chasing each other with wooden sticks that I'm guessing were supposed to be swords.

"That was me," Darius said suddenly, nodding toward the kids.

I glanced at him. "You used to be a tiny sword-wielding maniac?"

"Pretty much," he said with a faint smile. "I used to run around the palace, pretending I was a knight. I'd drag the guards into these elaborate games where we had to 'defend the kingdom.'"

"Wow," I said, grinning. "Look at you, all noble and heroic even as a kid. Meanwhile, I was probably stuffing my face with pizza rolls and avoiding gym class like it was the plague."

"You didn't want to be a hero?" he asked, tilting his head.

"Nope," I said, popping the "p." "Heroes have to do a lot of running, and I'm more of a... sit-and-think kind of person. Plus, they usually end up dead or traumatized. Not exactly a dream career."

Darius laughed at that, a real laugh that made his eyes crinkle at the corners.

"Besides," I added, "if I'm being honest, I didn't think I could be a hero. People like me? We don't get the spotlight. We're just... there."

"You're wrong about that," he said quietly, looking at me in a way that made my stomach do a weird little flip.

I didn't know what to say to that, so I just shrugged and said, "Yeah, well, don't get all sappy on me, Your Highness."

Later, we ended up in the training area, where some of the camp's fighters were practicing. Darius couldn't resist showing off, of course, because apparently being a prince comes with a built-in need to prove yourself at every opportunity.

He grabbed a wooden staff and started sparring with one of the older fighters, moving with this fluid, practiced grace that made me think he probably spent half his life in a training yard.

"You know," I said, leaning against the fence, "if this whole prince thing doesn't work out, you could totally join a traveling circus. People love a good swordfight."

"Should I assume you're volunteering to be my assistant?" he shot back, dodging a blow and countering with a quick strike that sent his opponent stumbling.

"Hard pass," I said. "I don't do leotards, and I'd probably trip over the trapeze anyway."

By the time the sun started to set, we were sitting on a hill overlooking the camp, a makeshift meal of bread and dried fruit spread out between us. It wasn't fancy, but it was the first time in days that I actually felt... okay.

"You know," I said, breaking the comfortable silence, "if you ever decide to write a book about your life, you should call it 'How to Ruin Your Day with Family Drama and Magical Relics.'"

Darius smirked. "And what would your autobiography be called?"

"'How to Avoid Heroism: A Guide to Not Getting Involved,'" I said immediately.

He laughed, shaking his head. "You're impossible."

"Yeah, but you're stuck with me," I said, grinning.

For the first time in what felt like forever, we weren't running, or fighting, or trying to figure out how to survive the next disaster. We were just... two people, sitting under the stars, trying to make sense of the mess we'd stumbled into.

And honestly? It wasn't half bad.