★ THE BOLTER ★
THE EDGE OF CONTROL

the laboratory was quiet, save for the soft hum of machinery and the faint clinking of glass vials against polished steel trays. Nerina sat alone at the main workstation, her gloved hands carefully manipulating a series of tools as she studied the crimson liquid contained within a crystalline vial. Despite the lab's sterile chill, her heartbeat drummed insistently in her ears, her mind spinning with thoughts she struggled to suppress.

She leaned closer, her eyes narrowing as she adjusted the focus on the magnifier. A surge of dark fascination crept over her as she watched the substance within shift and pulse, almost as if it were alive. Energy. So much energy. The liquid practically thrummed with it, a concentrated force unlike anything she had encountered before.

As she worked, she felt her curse stir. That familiar, creeping pull-the endless cycle of consumption and destruction within her body. Her fingers flexed involuntarily, a spark of dread flashing through her as the glass beneath her touch grew cold. She clenched her jaw and withdrew her hand, breathing shallowly to calm the tempest brewing inside.

The energy... it's the same as before. Recognition swept through her, chilling her deeper than the sterile air ever could. This was the very force she had absorbed in the past-when flowers withered to ash beneath her fingertips, and when humans collapsed, their life force drained by her proximity. Memories of that disastrous day burned in her mind, the screams still echoing in her ears.

The curse of the Consuming Balance.

Her burden was as ancient as the stories of her ancestors. The balance of life and death entwined within her very being, a force she had never learned to control. She could draw in energy with devastating efficiency, but the release was chaotic and violent-destroying everything in its path. The cost of even a fleeting touch was far too high. Her isolation was her penance, her only protection against the world-and against herself.

A bitter smile played on her lips. No amount of study had ever yielded a solution. She was a walking calamity. And yet...

Her thoughts twisted, looping inexorably back to him. Zandik.

The sharp memory of his lips on her skin haunted her.-an intoxicating mix of fire and madness that left her both exhilarated and deeply unsettled. She could still feel the press of his mouth, the heat of his touch that seemed to burn through her carefully built walls. She clenched her hands into fists, her heart thundering with emotions she despised herself for feeling.

I shouldn't have liked it. The thought was a whisper of self-reproach. But I did.

Yet, what fascinated her even more was the fact that he could touch her without having the very life drained from his veins-a dangerous, impossible connection that defied everything she had ever known.

Her breath caught in her throat as the door behind her creaked open. She didn't need to look to know who had entered. A familiar chill, sharper than the room's natural cold, spread through the air.

"Studying my discovery, are you?" Zandik's voice was rich with amusement as he stepped closer, his presence commanding without effort. His eyes, glimmering with that unnerving blend of curiosity and menace, fixed on her work. "Fascinating, isn't it?"

Nerina schooled her features into an impassive mask. "It's potent. More so than anything I've encountered before."

"Of course it is." Zandik's smirk deepened, his gaze cutting into her with surgical precision. "You never told me that part of your family hailed from Khaenri'ah."

Her lips pressed into a thin line, and a shadow flickered behind her eyes. She hesitated, her voice low, guarded. "It's not something I talk about."

She clenched her hands tighter, knuckles whitening as if to steady herself against the weight of his words. It was enough for people to know she was cursed - that alone carried its own burdens. They didn't need to know the rest, didn't need to learn about the blood that ran through her veins, blood tied to a fallen nation, to a history better left buried. Secrets, after all, were safer when kept close, and this was one she intended to keep until her final breath.

Her gaze sharpened as she lifted her eyes to him, suspicion simmering just beneath the surface. "How do you even know that?" The question hung heavy between them, her voice touched with both curiosity and a trace of fear. No one else had ever pieced it together - not so precisely, not with such certainty. Yet here he was, unraveling truths she had worked so hard to conceal.

Zandik's smirk didn't waver, the sharp edge of his gaze never leaving her face. He leaned forward, his voice smooth, deliberate. "Like I said, I've been observing you for quite some time."

Her stomach twisted, a knot of discomfort tightening within her as he continued.

"And besides," he added, tilting his head slightly, "it only makes sense. You carry that curse because your ancestors hailed from Khaenri'ah. That curse of yours... it's likely the very thing protecting you from the fate that consumed everyone else of Khaenri'ahn blood."

The words sank deep, each syllable striking with precision, like a blade pressing just enough to draw blood without cutting too deep. His certainty left no room for denial, only the gnawing question of how much more he had uncovered - and what he intended to do with the knowledge now laid bare between them.

Her breath grew shallow, and a cold, sinking feeling coiled in her chest. "So, if you take this curse from me..." She paused, her voice tight with unease. "I'll end up like the rest of them. Like everyone else from Khaenri'ah."

Her eyes searched his face, hoping for denial, for reassurance - but none came. "Yes."

Her chair scraped loudly against the stone floor as she shot to her feet, her breath a sharp intake of defiance. In a swift, determined motion, she closed the distance between them, her hand outstretched, fingers trembling slightly as she thrust her arm toward him.

"Then take it," she demanded, her voice quivering with a mix of anger and liberation. "Take this power, Zandik. It's what you've wanted all along, isn't it?"

His eyes narrowed, a flicker of confusion flashing across his face. "What are you doing?" he asked, his voice low, almost wary.

She took another step forward, her chest heaving with the force of her conviction. "I'm tired of living like this. Tired of the curse. Of pretending I'm not already dead inside. I've made my peace with it. If death is the price for freedom, so be it."

For a long, tense moment, he said nothing, his gaze locked on hers with an intensity that made the air between them feel heavy. Slowly, almost absently, he dragged a hand through his hair, his fingers tangling in the dark strands as if grappling with a thought too absurd to voice.

"I can't believe I'm saying this..." His voice was quiet, tinged with incredulity. Then he exhaled sharply, a bitter laugh escaping under his breath. "But I don't want to kill you."

Her hand remained outstretched between them, trembling with the weight of her resolve. Her eyes burned with a fire that should have made her feel alive - but instead, she felt hollow.

"You should," she whispered, her voice cracking. "I have no reason to keep living. No place in this world. No one waiting for me." She swallowed hard, her lips curling into a bitter smile. "Take it, Zandik. Take the curse. Take my life if you have to. At least then, it would have some purpose."

His expression darkened, the confusion hardening into something more inscrutable. His hand hovered near hers but didn't close the gap. Instead, he drew it back, curling his fingers into a tight fist at his side.

"I can't," he said softly, almost to himself.

Her breath hitched. "You can. You're the one person who can."

He shook his head, his smirk returning, but it no longer carried its usual venom. It was softer now, almost reluctant. "You don't understand. I could do it, yes." His eyes, sharp and cold as winter steel, searched hers. "But I won't."

Her brows furrowed. "Why?"

His lips parted, then closed as if the answer tasted foreign. Finally, he sighed, the weight of his words pushing against the space between them. "Because you fascinate me."

Her breath caught, her heart stuttering painfully in her chest.

"You're an anomaly," he continued, his voice quieter, as though revealing a truth he hadn't fully admitted even to himself. "That curse you carry... it shouldn't have left you this whole. You shouldn't be this whole. But you are." His eyes softened, a rare glimmer of wonder breaking through the calculation. "And I want to understand you. Not just the curse, but you. The way you fight. The way you endure. The way you stand there, begging for death but burning brighter than anyone I've ever met."

Tears threatened the corners of her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. Her fingers curled into a fist. "That doesn't change anything," she whispered. "It doesn't give me a reason to keep going."

He took a step forward, close enough that the air between them felt charged. His voice dropped, low and sharp, cutting through her despair. "Then find one." His hand reached out, almost gently, brushing the edge of hers before pulling back. "I'm not going to kill you because I refuse to be the one who destroys something as rare as you."

"Fine."

Her voice was cold, cutting, and final. She wrenched her hand back, stepping away from him, as if putting distance between them would sever the invisible cord tightening around her heart.

"Then I'm done." Her gaze hardened, her jaw set with grim determination. "I'm not working with you anymore. This is over."

She turned sharply, the hem of her coat flaring as she moved to leave - but before she could take more than a step, his hand shot out. His fingers closed around her wrist, the grip firm and unyielding. He yanked her back, the force of it pulling her flush against him, their faces mere inches apart.

"That wasn't our agreement," Zandik murmured, his voice dark and dangerously calm.

Her eyes blazed with fury. "I don't care about our damn agreement," she spat, twisting her arm in a futile attempt to free herself. "I'm done playing this game. Done with you."

His grip tightened, the pressure just shy of painful, a silent warning etched into the sharpness of his knuckles. "I'm not letting you go."

Her pulse raced under his hold, but her glare didn't waver. "Let me go, Zandik."

"I won't," he said, his voice low, each word deliberate and heavy with meaning. His eyes burned into hers, fierce and unrelenting. "You don't get to walk away from me. Not after everything."

She felt her breath hitch, her heart pounding like a war drum. "You can't force me to stay."

He leaned in, close enough that she could feel the heat of his breath, his smirk dark with amusement - and something far more dangerous. "Watch me."

Her breath caught, her pulse thundering as his words hung between them like a challenge - dark, dangerous, and daring her to defy him.

"Watch you?" she hissed, eyes blazing. "What are you going to do, Zandik? Chain me up? Drag me around like one of your failed experiments?" She yanked her wrist again, but his grip held firm, unshakable.

His smirk deepened, sharp as a blade pressed against fragile skin. "If that's what it takes to keep you alive? Yes."

A sharp, bitter laugh escaped her lips. "Alive?" She shook her head, her voice thick with anger and something dangerously close to despair. "I'm not alive. I haven't been since this curse took root in me. You just want to keep me because I'm useful to you. Don't pretend it's anything more than that."

His eyes darkened, the amusement bleeding from his features, leaving behind something far more serious - and far more unsettling. "You're right," he said quietly, his grip tightening a fraction more. "I do want you because you're useful. You're powerful, unpredictable - a puzzle I haven't solved. But that's not the only reason I'm keeping you."

She froze, her breath shallow as she searched his face, desperate to find a lie in his eyes. "Then what is it?"

His voice dropped lower, intimate and cutting. "Because you've walked through hell, and you're still standing. Because you carry a curse that should have broken you, but instead, you wear it like armor." His thumb brushed the edge of her wrist, a fleeting, almost tender touch before his grip hardened once more. "I've seen a thousand brilliant minds collapse under less. But you? You fascinate me. And I'm not done with you."

Her heart raced, the intensity in his eyes igniting a storm inside her. "You think that gives you the right to keep me here? To control me?"

"No," he murmured, his gaze never leaving hers. "It gives me the reason."

Her defiance wavered for a heartbeat, then flared again. "I don't need your fascination. I don't want it."

"You don't have to want it," he said, voice calm, unshakable. "But it's what's keeping you alive right now."

"Why does it matter so much to you? You've never cared about anything but your research."

He exhaled, running his free hand through his hair, the barest trace of frustration tugging at his expression. "I don't know," he admitted, his voice sharp with irritation at himself. "But I care enough to not let you die. Even if it means keeping you by force."

Her voice trembled with anger, her wrist aching in his relentless grasp. "You're a monster."

"And you," he whispered, pulling her even closer, "are the only thing keeping me human."

She stared at him for a long moment, the words between them hanging like a blade. Then, slowly, he curved his lips into a crooked, self-assured smile.

"I know you like it," he said, his tone sharp, as if he'd already figured out her secret.

For a moment, she stood still, but then she stumbled a step backward, her feet teetering on the line between defiance and panic. "That's not true," she spat, her voice trembling despite her efforts to maintain the facade of independence.

But before she could protest further, he yanked her back toward him, his grip firm, unyielding. Her chest collided with his, and she felt the heat of his body, the proximity she had been desperately trying to shake off.

"You're lying to yourself," he whispered, his voice low, a hint of amusement coloring his words. "Everything in the past few weeks has been exactly what you needed - someone near you, someone who doesn't just die on you."

She pulled back slightly, her gaze narrowing as a thought flickered in her mind. She looked up at him, a strange, quiet determination in her eyes.

"I want to test something," she said, her voice steady despite the tension swirling around them.

Zandik raised an eyebrow, a silent question in his eyes. "Test what?"

"If you want me to stay... if you want me to not die," she began, her voice soft but piercing, "then let me test something."

He considered her for a moment, then nodded, his expression unreadable. "Fine. Test whatever you need."

Without breaking their gaze, she stretched out her right hand, moving it slowly toward his face. She could feel the weight of his eyes on her as she closed the distance between them. With delicate precision, she placed her hand on his cheek, her touch soft, almost hesitant.

For a long moment, she simply let her fingers rest there, feeling the warmth of his skin under her palm, the faint thrum of his pulse.

Then, barely above a whisper, she murmured, "Why don't you die?"

Zandik's gaze darkened, and a slow, knowing smile curled at the corners of his lips. "Hmm, maybe I won't die under your touch because that's exactly what I'm here for... to satisfy you," he replied, his voice low, rich with unspoken meaning.

They stood there for a long moment, neither of them moving. The air between them thickened, charged with tension and unspoken words, as if the very room had stopped breathing. Her hand lingered on his face, but her mind was a whirlwind, torn between the pull of his words and the fear of what they might mean.

Finally, Nerina broke the silence. She let out a soft breath, the weight of his gaze almost too much to bear. Slowly, reluctantly, she withdrew her hand from his cheek and stepped back, her eyes lingering on him for a moment longer.

Without a word, she turned and made her way toward the door. Her steps were steady, but her heart was racing, a mixture of confusion and something else - something she couldn't quite name, but felt deep in her chest.