A bad decision may surprise the fool, but the worried heart has seen it all.
You're worried about me?
The grand hall of Mazen's residence was nearly empty now, the air still vibrating faintly with the tension left behind by the meeting. As the doors shut behind the last of them, silence settled like a heavy blanket over the vast, echoing chamber. I stayed behind, lingering near the window where the faint light of the moon filtered through, casting a silver glow over the polished stone floor. I could feel Mazen's presence before he spoke.
"Shay." His voice was low, quiet, and when I turned to face him, his expression was as unreadable as ever, his dark eyes fixed on me. He stood a few steps away, the glint of a crafted artifact at his side catching the faint light."
Mazen," I replied evenly, watching him closely. His movements were precise as he approached, his boots barely making a sound against the stone.
"Do you trust this plan?" he asked, his tone sharp but devoid of judgment. His eyes searched mine, as if he were trying to peel back the layers of my thoughts and get to the truth underneath.
I tilted my head slightly. "Do I trust it? No. Do I trust myself to make it work? Absolutely."
Mazen exhaled through his nose, his lips pressing into a thin line.
The corner of my mouth lifted in a humorless smirk. "What? You're worried about me?"
"I'm worried about all of us," he shot back, his voice rising slightly before he reined it in. "But you—your power, your choices—they set the tone for everything that follows. If you break, this alliance breaks."
I stepped forward, closing the distance between us. "I won't break," I said evenly, meeting his intensity with my own. "You've seen what I can endure."
"I have," Mazen admitted, his voice softening. "And that's what concerns me. You endure too much, and one day, there might not be anything left of you to lead."
For a moment, the room felt heavier, the weight of his words pressing down on both of us.
"I don't have the luxury of falling apart, Mazen," I said, my voice quieter but no less resolute. "Not now. Not ever."
Mazen sighed, running a hand through his dark hair. "Just… remember that you have allies. You have me."
I tilted my head, studying him. There was no hesitation in his gaze, no trace of the usual aloofness he wore like armor. This wasn't just a commander speaking to a king; it was a friend trying to reach me through the cracks I refused to show.
"I know," I said finally, the words heavier than they should have been.
Mazen nodded, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. "Good. Then let's make sure this isn't the last time we're standing here."
I allowed a small, fleeting smile. "Agreed."
He turned back toward the table, his focus shifting once more to the maps, but the moment lingered.
With a sharp motion, I dropped a little sack onto the table with a resounding thud. The sound made Mazen look up sharply.
"What's this?" he asked, his eyes narrowing as he straightened.
"Mines," I replied casually.
Without a word, he untied the rough fabric, peeling it open just enough to peek inside. His eyes widened immediately, and he froze, staring at the contents as though he couldn't quite believe what he was seeing.
"Did the kid make these?" he finally asked, his voice low and incredulous.
I couldn't help the smirk that tugged at my lips. "He's a little genius, isn't he?"
Mazen straightened, his hand still resting on the sack as though it might suddenly explode if he moved too fast. "Genius, sure," he muttered, "but this... this is terrifying. These are beyond standard traps. They're—"
"Perfect," I interrupted, crossing my arms. "They're exactly what we need."
Mazen shook his head. His eyes remained fixed on the contents of the sack, his expression shifting from surprise to something close to reverence. "In this short time, he managed to make this many mines? With explosive power like this? It's... unheard of." He looked up at me, the corners of his mouth twitching in a mixture of admiration and disbelief. "Does that kid ever sleep?"
"Not as much as he should," I admitted. "So don't ever underestimate him again. The kid doesn't just have brains—he has teeth too."
Then, with a nod toward the door, I added, "Now go plant them."
As Mazen grabbed the sack and headed out to plant the mines, his movements were deliberate, the weight of the task clear in his stride. I turned back toward the open window, the moon hanging low in the sky, its pale light brushing against the darkened treetops. A soft breeze carried the scent of the night—cool and still, like the moment before a storm.
"You always find the quiet moments to brood, don't you?" Simon's voice, cold yet familiar, drifted into the room as if carried by the wind. I didn't turn to look at him right away; I could feel his presence near me, his usual freezing chill just behind my shoulder.
"Brooding is a luxury," I replied, my voice low, my gaze locked on the moon. "This is strategy."
Simon stepped closer, his ghostly outline shimmering faintly in the dim light. "And what's my role in this grand strategy of yours?"
I finally glanced at him, his translucent form more solid under the moonlight. His expression was calm, but I caught the faintest edge of anticipation in his icy eyes.
"You'll be my eyes," I said. "Until the barrier breaks, you'll monitor everything. Every movement, every shift. After that..." I straightened and met his gaze fully. "After that, make sure they survive. All of them."
Simon tilted his head, a small smile tugging at his lips. "You're trusting me with everyone? That's a tall order, even for a ghost."
"I don't trust anyone more for this," I said simply. "You'll keep them alive, Simon."
The smile slipped, replaced by a flicker of something unreadable. He didn't say anything at first, his gaze flickering toward the moon as if searching for answers in its cold glow.
"And what about you, Shay?" he asked finally, his voice quieter. "Who's going to keep you alive?"
I let out a low chuckle, more breath than sound. "That's the fun part. I don't need anyone to."
Simon's gaze lingered on me, his expression somewhere between concern and intrigue. His question hung in the air, as cold and sharp as his presence.
I smirked, leaning casually against the window frame, my eyes still fixed on the moon. "I've never died, Simon. Not once."
He blinked, his translucent form wavering slightly as if the admission caught him off guard. "Not once? In all your... what is it now? Four lives?"
"Four," I confirmed with a nod, the smirk deepening. "Four lives, four wars, countless enemies. But not once has anyone managed to kill me."
Simon lingered in the moonlight, his translucent form barely a whisper against the night. His gaze rested on me, as though he could see straight through to something I didn't let anyone else glimpse.
"You've got that look again," he said softly, his voice carrying an edge of melancholy. "You've come close, though, haven't you?"
"More times than I can count." I let a faint smirk curve my lips, but it didn't reach my eyes. "But close doesn't count when you're standing at the edge and still refuse to fall."
Simon's cold presence lingered beside me, his translucent form shimmering faintly under the moonlight. His voice cut through the heavy silence like a shard of ice.
"Don't forget, Shay," he said quietly, his tone devoid of its usual sharpness. "Your enemy is the Time Mage."
I didn't look at him, my gaze still fixed on the silver glow of the moon, but I could feel the weight of his words sinking into my chest.
"She's seen all your lives," Simon continued, his voice dropping even lower, as though he feared the night itself might hear. "She knows you, Shay. Better than anyone else. She might even know your weaknesses."
I clenched my jaw, my hands tightening into fists at my sides. The air felt colder, sharper, like it was trying to bite through my skin. "Then she's welcome to try," I said, the edge in my voice cutting through the stillness.
Simon's form wavered slightly, his brow furrowed with something between concern and caution.
"And she doesn't know who I've become." I turned to him, my eyes glinting with a cold fire. "Four lives, Simon. Four wars. I've changed every time, even if I didn't remember my past experiences."
Simon's lips pressed into a thin line. "Maybe. But don't underestimate her. She's desperate, Shay. Desperate people do terrible things, and she has time itself on her side."
I exhaled slowly, letting the chill in the air seep into my lungs. "Desperate people also make mistakes," I said, my voice steady, unyielding.
Simon was silent for a long moment, his gaze piercing as though he was trying to read something beyond the surface. Finally, he nodded, his form flickering faintly. "Just remember, Shay. You're not invincible. Even the strongest can fall."
A faint, humorless smile tugged at my lips. "I know, Simon."
Simon leaned closer, the weight of his words pressing down on me. "If you ever fall… Survive. Promise me that you will do anything to survive. You are not allowed to leave me behind."
The force of his plea took me by surprise, and for a moment, I was lost in the gravity of it.
I met his eyes, steady as the night around us. "I promise, Simon. No matter what, I'll survive."
He nodded, but there was no relief in his expression—only the hard edge of resolve. "Good. Because if you don't, I'll hunt you down in whatever life you end up in, and I'll make sure you remember this."
A crooked smirk tugged at my lips, the smallest hint of defiance, as if to remind us both that this was me: unyielding and stubborn. "Wouldn't have it any other way."
For a moment, silence wrapped around us. I exhaled, the breath leaving my body in a slow, controlled wave.
Simon's form faded, signaling the return of Mazen. I turned to see him. His expression was tense, his grey eyes shadowed.
In his hands, the heavy sack that had been the key to our defenses swung with practiced ease.
"Everything's in place," he said, his voice a low rumble. "The mines are planted, and the perimeter is set. We're as ready as we'll ever be."
I nodded, my gaze meeting his for a brief moment before I felt the familiar shift in the air, like an invisible weight being lifted. Simon's presence had completely vanished, leaving behind only a void that seemed to pull at the edges of my senses. He was gone.
"Good," I said, keeping my voice steady.
I turned back to the window and I felt Mazen step beside me. He stood beside me, the silence stretching between us, heavy and oppressive. It didn't matter that we hadn't said a word; I felt it in every tense muscle, every shallow breath. The night pressed against us, dark and suffocating, as if it were holding us in place, waiting for the storm to break.
I could feel the weight of the moment settle into my bones, the thin line between life and death growing sharper with each passing heartbeat. The stars above seemed to watch with knowing eyes, their light cold and indifferent. They were witnesses to what was coming, to the choice that lay before us.
Mazen's jaw was clenched tight, and I could see the effort it took for him to remain still, to stand and wait when I knew his instincts were screaming at him to fight, to move. I could feel the tension radiating off of him, and it mirrored my own.
Mazen's eyes met mine, and the unspoken understanding passed between us. This was it, the moment before everything would shatter. We were standing on the edge, knowing that whatever came next would change everything.
I took a deep breath. In that silence, I found a strange kind of peace.