Kai

The adrenaline of the fight is still coursing through my veins, but it's already starting to fade. My muscles ache, but the burn from the battle is nothing compared to the ache of my chest as I watch the others gather around the fallen creature. They look tired, battered, but alive. And we did it. We actually did it.

The sound of Lyra's voice breaks through my thoughts, and I glance over. She's crouched beside the creature, her hand outstretched, almost as if she's not sure whether to touch it or not. Her gaze is distant, eyes clouded with something I can't quite read.

Finn is beside her, his hand hovering over a wound that refuses to heal. He's concentrating, furrowing his brow in that way he does when he's trying too hard. I know that look too well. The one where he doesn't want to admit that something's wrong, even though it's obvious.

I can't blame him. I'm not sure I'd handle any better if I were in his shoes. I glance at Alex, standing a little behind me, his expression unreadable. Alex's gaze is fixed on the horizon, distant and heavy. I can tell he's still processing everything. The weight of the battle, the strain of the world we're trying to save—it's all sinking in. I want to reach out, pull him into my arms, but I'm not sure if he'd let me. It's that feeling again—like we're so close, but the barrier of everything we've been through is just too thick to break through easily.

I take a step toward him, but before I can speak, I hear Lyra's voice again, this time sharper.

"Finn," she says, and I turn back to them. "It's not working. It's not healing."

Finn pulls his hand away from the creature, frustration painted across his face. He looks down at his palm, the faint glow of his power slowly dimming.

"Maybe we're too late," Finn murmurs. "The damage is done."

I feel my stomach churn, not from fear, but from something deeper, more primal. Every moment we waste, we get closer to losing everything. To failing.

But then, I hear Alex. He says nothing at first, but I feel the air shift. The quiet hum, almost imperceptible, but it's there. It's like he's calling something, drawing something to him. I glance over at him, only to see the air around him shimmer.

The glow of fire, water, and earth pulse in his eyes. His ability—the one he's still learning to control—is coming to life again. The wind picks up around us, and it's not the storm I've learned to fear, but the calm before a shift. Something's happening, I can feel it in the air.

"Alex..." I whisper, taking a step toward him.

But it's not Alex who speaks. It's the creature. It's still breathing, ragged and heavy, but it's alive—barely. And it's looking at Alex, its eyes wide, pleading.

The realization hits me like a tidal wave. Alex isn't just controlling the elements. He's connecting with them. He's calling to it.

Before I can say anything, Alex steps forward, his voice soft, yet resolute. "You're not alone," he says to the creature, his words calming, like a balm on an open wound. "We're going to fix this. Together."

I stare at him, my heart in my throat. The tension in the air is thick, but I can feel it. Whatever is happening—Alex has just crossed a threshold. He's not just using his powers anymore. He's becoming them.

I look back at Finn and Lyra. Finn's eyes are wide, his mouth slightly parted in disbelief, but there's a flicker of hope in his gaze. Lyra seems unsure, still crouched beside the creature, but her expression is more hopeful now.

"What is he doing?" Lyra asks quietly, almost to herself.

"I think... he's healing it," I say, the words slipping out before I even realize I've spoken. "Not in the way we expected. But he's connecting with it. Helping it."

It's happening too quickly, too unexpectedly, but I can't deny it. The creature's breath slows, the tension in its body easing. Its wounds, though still visible, don't seem as deep. It's as if Alex is filling the space around them with light, with something elemental, something pure.

I take another step toward Alex, my hand reaching for him, my voice low. "Alex," I call. "Are you sure you can control it?"

He doesn't answer right away, his focus entirely on the creature before him. The air hums around him, a soft, steady rhythm that matches the beat of his heart. It's only when he finally turns to look at me that I see the change in his eyes—he's not the same Alex I knew before. He's stronger, more grounded, and he's still learning, still growing. But in this moment, I can't deny that he's becoming something extraordinary.

"I... I think so," he says softly, the uncertainty in his voice replaced by a quiet confidence. He looks back at the creature, and the air shifts once more, the earth beneath our feet pulsing with energy.

"I think we can help it. We can help each other."

And with that, something snaps into place. The tension that had been hanging in the air for so long begins to dissipate. The world doesn't feel quite as heavy anymore. There's hope—a small spark, but it's there, flickering brightly in the midst of everything.

I look around at the others. Finn is stepping forward now, his hand outstretched toward the creature, his own power beginning to swell in response to Alex's. Lyra, standing a little apart, watches the two of them with an unreadable expression, but I can tell she's thinking. She's always thinking.

"We're not done yet," Lyra says quietly, her voice steady, like the calm after a storm. "We have a long way to go."

"We'll get there," I reply, my voice more certain than I feel. "We have to."

And for the first time in what feels like forever, I believe it. We're not just surviving anymore. We're fighting. We're winning.