Finn

The forest is quiet. Too quiet. But that's nothing new. In a world like this, silence is often the loudest thing you can hear. And the way the trees seem to bend in on themselves, like they're listening too... it makes me feel small. Vulnerable.

But it's not the forest that's making me uneasy. It's Lyra.

She's walking ahead of me, a few paces out of reach, her shoulders tense, her movements deliberate. But I know her better than that. I know when she's trying to convince herself that she's okay. I know when something's eating at her. And right now, it's more than just the dangers of the world pressing in on us. It's something deeper.

And it has everything to do with me.

I don't know what happened first—if it was the shift in her or the shift in me—but I can feel the weight between us. The weight of things left unsaid. The weight of a past that's only just starting to catch up with us.

"Finn..." Her voice is soft, hesitant. She doesn't look back at me as she says it, her eyes still fixed on the trail ahead. "Do you remember that night?"

I freeze. The air goes still. I don't want to, but I do. I remember every detail as if it happened yesterday, even though it feels like a lifetime ago.

It was the night everything changed. The night I realized I wasn't who I thought I was—or at least, I wasn't who I was supposed to be. And it was the night Lyra saved me.

"I remember," I say, and even my voice feels like it's cracking. I swallow hard. "How could I forget?"

She's quiet for a long time, and I can feel her pulling further away, though she's standing still. I wish I could say something, anything, to fill the silence. But the truth is, I don't have the words. Not for this.

I close my eyes for a second, letting the memory wash over me.

The night was cold, the air biting with the chill of early winter. I was just another lost soul wandering the wreckage of the world, trying to figure out where I fit in, trying to outrun the thing I could never quite name. I didn't know it then, but I was running from myself. And in doing that, I was running right toward trouble.

I had wandered too far from the camp. It was stupid, reckless, and I'd known it, but I did it anyway. It was like I was drawn to the dark places—the places where the creatures roamed, the places where life no longer had a place. I was still figuring out who I was, still hiding from my own reflection. And then I got caught.

I remember the first growl—the deep, rumbling sound that echoed through the night like thunder. And then the eyes. Red, glowing eyes, peering out of the darkness. I tried to run. I always tried to run. But it wasn't enough.

And that's when she appeared.

Lyra.

She was a blur of motion, her knife flashing in the moonlight as she lunged at the creature, taking it down in one swift motion. The thing didn't stand a chance. And neither did I, not without her.

I was bleeding. I hadn't even realized it until she knelt down beside me, pressing a cloth to the wound in my side. But I couldn't focus on the pain. I couldn't focus on anything except the way she looked at me—like I was someone worth saving.

I remember the first thing she said to me, her voice low and steady despite the danger that had just passed. "Don't you dare die on me, Finn."

I blink, remembering her words. And I think of how far we've come since that night. How many times we've faced down monsters—literal and otherwise—and somehow come out the other side.

"I was afraid I wouldn't make it," I say, my voice barely above a whisper. I don't think she heard me, but it feels important to say it. "I didn't know who I was. I didn't know if I could ever be who I wanted to be."

Lyra stops walking, her back to me now, her breath sharp in the cold air. "And now?"

I want to tell her that everything's different now. That I've figured it out. That the fear is gone. But the truth is, I still don't have all the answers. I've made peace with parts of myself, sure, but there's always more to unravel. More to face. And I still don't know where that leaves us.

"I'm still figuring it out," I admit. "But I'm trying. I'm trying because of you."

She turns around then, her face softening for the first time today. Her eyes meet mine, and I see something there. A hint of the girl I used to know, the one who was always so sure of herself. The one who saved me when I couldn't save myself.

"You've already come a long way, Finn," she says, her voice barely audible. "We both have."

I smile, though it feels bittersweet. Because I know she's right. We've both changed. We've both fought to become who we are, even if we haven't finished the fight. But there's something between us now. Something unspoken. And it's more than just the battles we've fought.

I think of the night she saved me. Of how she showed me that it was okay to fight. And how, since then, we've fought together. For each other. For something bigger than ourselves.

The growl of another creature in the distance rips me from my thoughts. It's closer this time, and I know that whatever it is, we're going to have to face it. But this time, we're not alone.

I take Lyra's hand, squeezing it tightly. "We'll fight together again."

She nods, her grip tightening around mine. "Always."