Zephyra bent over the open scroll on her workbench, her ink-stained fingers sketching intricate designs across the parchment. The glow of a single candle threw flickering shadows on the walls of her small workshop, casting her face in a half-light. The space was silent, save for the quiet scratching of her quill.
The room was her refuge—a place where the oppressive weight of her life as a slave seemed to lift, if only for a while. But tonight, the usual peace she found in her work felt thin, fragile. She glanced up at the wall, where the crack of daylight had long faded into the gloom of night. She'd lost track of time again.
The door creaked open, and Zephyra didn't need to look up to know who it was. The soft rustle of skirts and the careful step could only be Elysine.
"I've been looking for you," Elysine said quietly, stepping into the room, her presence gentle yet tense. There was no anger in her tone, but Zephyra could feel the unease in her words.
Zephyra straightened up, stretching her cramped back and tossing the quill aside. "I know. I lost track of time again." She smiled faintly, but Elysine didn't return it.
Elysine stepped forward, her arms wrapped tightly around herself as though to shield her from the tension in the air. "You've been down here for days, Zephyra. You don't sleep, you barely eat." Her voice wavered, and she hesitated before continuing. "I'm worried about you."
Zephyra felt the weight of those words settle between them, heavier than before. She'd heard them too often lately.
But this time, something was different in Elysine's tone—something deeper. It wasn't just the usual concern about Zephyra's sleepless nights or the odd looks they'd been getting.
"You don't have to worry," Zephyra replied, her voice quieter than she intended. "I'm fine. Really."
Elysine shook her head, her hands dropping to her sides. "That's not what I mean. I'm not just talking about your health. I mean... everything. What's happening. Who you're becoming."
Zephyra's brow furrowed. "What are you talking about?"
Elysine moved closer, her eyes searching Zephyra's face as if trying to find the right words. "It's not just your projects, Zephyra. It's you. You've changed. The more time you spend wrapped up in these... ideas, the more distant you become. From me, from yourself. I'm scared you're losing sight of who you are."
Zephyra flinched. "I'm not—" She bit back the rest of her sentence, her mind racing. How could Elysine say that? Couldn't she see how important this work was?
But Elysine pressed on. "I get it. You want to help people. You want to change things. But... you don't seem to care what it's doing to you. Or to us."
Zephyra's eyes narrowed. "Of course I care. You think I'd be doing any of this if I didn't care?"
"It's not that simple," Elysine said, her voice tightening. "You care about your ideas. Your inventions. But when's the last time you stopped to think about what this is really doing? About the danger you're putting us in? Or even... even why you're doing it in the first place?"
Zephyra's heart skipped a beat. Why was she doing this? The question echoed in her mind, and for a moment, she couldn't find an answer.
But Elysine wasn't finished. "I don't want to sound ungrateful. I know what you've done for me. But sometimes, I feel like you're chasing something that's... I don't know... bigger than any of us. And I'm scared that one day, you'll go too far. That you'll forget what matters right here. With me."
Zephyra stood up abruptly, her chest tight with frustration. "So what do you want me to do, Elysine? Just stop? Throw away everything I've worked for?"
"No," Elysine said softly. "I just want you to remember why you started. Remember who you're doing this for. I don't want to lose you to this... obsession."
The word hit Zephyra like a slap. Obsession. Was that what this was? She turned away, her hands gripping the edge of the table. She'd never seen it that way, but now that Elysine had said it, the thought gnawed at her.
"I'm not obsessed," Zephyra said, though her voice lacked conviction. "I'm... I'm trying to make things better. I'm trying to—"
"To what?" Elysine interrupted, her voice cracking. "To save the world? To fix everything? I know you want to make a difference, but this—this path you're on—it's going to break you, Zephyra."
The silence that followed was unbearable. Zephyra's mind raced, searching for the right thing to say, something that would ease the knot of tension between them. But nothing came. Her throat tightened as she realized she didn't have an answer for Elysine.
Elysine stepped closer again, her hand reaching out but stopping just short of touching Zephyra's shoulder. "I don't want to lose you," she whispered. "Not to them. Not to this fight. I need you to be here with me. Not lost in your head all the time."
Zephyra turned slowly, meeting Elysine's gaze. She could see the fear there, the desperation, but also the love. And that made it all the harder.
"I don't want to lose you either," Zephyra said quietly. "But I can't just sit by and do nothing. You know that. I have to keep pushing."
Elysine's eyes shimmered with unshed tears. "I'm not asking you to do nothing. I'm asking you to live. With me. Now. Before it's too late."
Zephyra's breath caught, and for a moment, the weight of it all felt crushing. She glanced around the room, at the workbench, the designs, the tools scattered across the table. It had all consumed her for so long that she hadn't stopped to think about the toll it was taking. Not just on her, but on Elysine too. On their friendship.
"I'll be careful," Zephyra said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I promise."
Elysine didn't look convinced. "You've said that before."
"And I'll say it again," Zephyra replied. "Because it's true. I'll be careful."
Elysine sighed, shaking her head, though her expression softened. "Just... don't forget what matters."
"I won't," Zephyra whispered, though a part of her wondered if that was a promise she could keep.
They stood in silence, the flickering candlelight casting long shadows on the walls. The weight of their conversation hung in the air like a storm cloud, heavy and unspoken. Elysine stepped back toward the door, her hand lingering on the frame.
"I'll see you tomorrow," she said softly.
Zephyra nodded. "Tomorrow."
But as Elysine left, Zephyra knew that something had shifted between them. The air in the room felt heavier, and the tension hadn't dissipated. It had only sunk deeper, into the cracks of their relationship, waiting for the right moment to surface again.