Kana stood alone in the training corridor. Her hands were clenched at her sides, knuckles pale. Her shoulders were drawn tight, like she was bracing for something that never came.
Weapons lined the walls around her. Spears, blades, tools meant for people who were actually seen. She didn't reach for any of them. She rarely did anymore.
"I hate this," she whispered. Her voice echoed once against the cold stone before fading into silence. "I hate feeling like I don't exist."
The words slipped out too easily. They'd been sitting in her chest for years, waiting for the moment she finally stopped pretending they weren't there.
She started pacing the length of the corridor, her reflection staring back at her from the dull polish of a mounted blade. She looked smaller in the steel. Lighter. Wrong somehow.
She wasn't broken. She just wasn't forged the same as the others.
"I get it," she muttered, jaw tightening. "I know I'm not strong like the rest of you. I know I don't move fast enough, hit hard enough, or scare anyone when I walk into a room."
A bitter breath left her.
"But for my own siblings to look through me?" Her hands curled tighter. "Like I'm air?"
That hurt more than any physical strike ever could.
"And I hate…" Her voice faltered. She pressed a palm to her chest, trying to ground herself. "I hate what he's going through."
Kota's face surfaced in her mind, uninvited and vivid.
"I hate that he survived Koma's attack," she whispered. The words felt cruel even as she said them.
"Not because I wanted him dead… but because he shouldn't have to carry this. This sickness. This pain. Whatever it is that's eating him alive."
Her eyes burned. "He didn't deserve to live just to suffer."
The corridor offered no comfort. Only memories of a time before everything rotted.
"I miss being a family," Kana said quietly. "I miss my brother who didn't let being sick define him. The little brother who liked to play and laugh. I miss who he was before that power woke up. Before he was locked away."
Her shoulders sagged as the strength drained out of her. She was left standing alone among weapons she'd never be trusted to wield.
Somewhere far above, commands were shouted. Metal rang against metal. Life continued.
Koa was anything but still.
She stormed through the upper halls, her boots striking the stone hard enough to echo like hammer blows. Energy coiled tight beneath her skin, furious and barely contained.
"This is bullshit," she snapped, pacing sharply as she followed Koma toward his chambers. "I should be running better missions. I can do more."
Koma didn't slow down. His stride remained measured and unbothered, his cloak whispering behind him.
"You're not ready," he said evenly.
"I'm more ready than half the people you send out," Koa shot back. "You just don't want to admit it."
She opened her mouth to push further when a voice slid into her mind without warning it was cold and intrusive.
"Koa."
Her steps faltered.
"Kaola," she muttered, eyes narrowing.
"I forgot my bow. Bring it to me."
Koa's jaw clenched. "No."
Koma didn't look back.
"I'm not your fetcher," Koa said out loud, heat rising in her voice. "If you forgot it, that's on you."
There was a pause. It wasn't empty. It was deliberate.
"You'll do what you're told," Kaola replied.
The words carried weight. Not a threat an expectation. The kind of tone that assumed obedience had already been decided.
Koa stopped walking. "No," she said again. "I don't care."
Koma finally turned around. One brow lifted slightly. It wasn't surprise. It was a warning.
Kaola's presence was already withdrawing from her mind. The command had been delivered whether it was accepted or not.
Koa stood there shaking. Anger crawled under her skin like insects as she watched Koma disappear into the shadowed entrance of his chambers.
She didn't stay in the hallway.
Koa stormed after him, shoving the heavy door open before it could fully close and stepping inside without permission. Her boots struck the floor hard as she followed him in.
Her hands curled into fists so tight they trembled.
Beyond the halls, Kaola moved along the outer perimeter with a steady, measured pace. She was the anchor on the surface, scouting for disturbances while the air beside her remained a jagged, violet blur.
Hykee and Lokee were traversing through the Void to cover ground with lethal efficiency.
Hykee's massive frame flickered in and out of reality as he bridged the gaps in space. Lokee sat perched casually on his broad shoulder, her small frame contrasting with his bulk.
She let her twin's strength carry them through the high-pressure dimension, looking bored as they ghosted past the physical terrain.
Kaola didn't slow down as the Void hummed beside her.
"Keep up," she said flatly.
The air churned with the low vibration of the rift as the three of them vanished into the darkening horizon.