I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. Kaelith said he needed to go back to that place before we talked—whatever that means. Why it was so urgent that he couldn't be treated first, I don't know.
I just hope it didn't hit an artery.
"You fool," I mutter into my pillow.
It's late now. The moonlight spills through the curtains, silver and cold.
Then—the door slides open.
And closes.
I turn quickly.
He's there.
Without thinking, I rush forward and throw my arms around him, tackling him in a hug.
"Hey, easy," he laughs softly. "I'm not dead."
"YOU—YOU MADE ME SO WORRIED! RUNNING OFF LIKE THAT, AFTER THAT, AND NOT BEING TREATED, AND—AND—AND—"
The words spill out of me, half-yelling, half-sobbing.
He places a hand on my head, stroking my hair gently.
"I'm sorry," he whispers between strokes. "I have no excuse."
We stay like that for a while—me clinging to him, him holding me, the only light between us the pale glow of the moon.
When my tears finally slow, I realize what I've forgotten.
"Your arm," I gasp.
I grab his wrist and lead him to the bed where I left the medical supplies.
"HEY—HEY—stop," he says, startled.
But I've already undone his sleeve. The candle helps me see.
Where the wound should be—there's nothing.
No cut.
No blood.
Only a patchwork of scars just below his hand, so thick and layered it's as if his skin is scars.
I freeze. "What…?"
He quickly pulls his arm back. "I'm fine. Believe me—a wound like that won't harm me."
"That wound should've been fatal without treatment."
He sighs. "It's a long story. Let's just say… I've been altered. I've taken a mutagen."
I stare at him. "A… mutagen?"
He places both hands on my shoulders, serious now.
"Save your questions until after I say what I have to say."
I sit on the chair across from him—the one I was supposed to use while treating him — and nod.
He meets my eyes. "Remember how I told you I was looking for someone?"
I nod again.
"That someone… is you."
"Me?"
I open my mouth, but he raises a hand. "Let me finish."
He takes a breath.
"You have been chosen — just as I was — by the goddess. I came here on behalf of a secret organization. We call ourselves The 25."
The 25? A Goddess?
This is already going over my head. He then raises his hand pointing to his ring the first time I am really getting a good look at it. It is black but a big purple gem in the center with 2 white crystals 1 above and 1 below.
"You've been chosen to join our number as a candidate. That's why I've been searching for you —to take you to our home base. The 25 fight for balance and equality. Few even know we exist, and those who do… don't dare challenge us.
We are elite soldiers—genetically modified, forged in fire."
Me? A soldier? That can't be right.
"Our origins predate written time," he continues. "Each of us was chosen by the goddess herself… and now she has chosen you, Nyra."
He looks at me as if his words are truth carved in stone.
"Kaelith," I say quietly, "if you were anyone else, I'd call you crazy. If I hadn't seen what I saw today… I would call you crazy."
I sigh. "Do I even have a choice?"
He takes my hand gently.
"Of course you do. You don't have to decide tonight. Just… let me know when you're ready."
So many emotions crash inside me — confusion, fear. His hand grounds me in the storm.
"Nyra," he says softly, "I know you're still trying to find your parents. Joining us would be your best chance for answers."
"How?" I whisper.
"We have resources and knowledge beyond anything you can imagine — beyond anything human. If you join us, we can search for them together."
I can't speak. I can barely breathe. Me, chosen? Me, finally getting answers?
It's too much for tonight.
He notices the way I'm trembling and guides me back to the bed, his arm wrapped around me. My head rests against his chest.
"Sleep," he murmurs. "Don't worry about anything else right now."
"How?" I mumble.
"Count your breaths," he says, still stroking my hair. "In time with mine."
I try.
One. In — Can they really help me?
Two. Out — Maybe they can.
Three. In — But right now… I can't think about that.
Four. Out — I just want to be here. With him. The man who cares for me.
And with that final breath, sleep takes me.