The camp was quieter than usual that night. The outcasts sat in their usual places around the fire, their faces flickering in the glow of the flames, but the silence that surrounded them seemed heavier than it had been before. Wan sat off to the side, lost in thought, as the weight of leadership pressed down on him once again. The world around him felt out of focus, as if the shadows had grown deeper and the firelight too harsh.
He had earned their trust tonight, yes. He had struck down the Hunters who threatened their safety. But the victory had come at a cost—one he couldn't shake.
He remembered their faces—the Hunters, their expressions full of disbelief as the singularity consumed them, as if they never expected to die by someone else's hand. It had been swift, clean, and efficient. But it had also been a reminder of his own power—a power that he could no longer ignore.
What did that make him? A protector? Or a weapon? And worse, could he truly lead these people, after everything that had happened?
His thoughts drifted back to the past—the time before he had arrived here, when he had led others. He had been a leader then, too, but that had ended in disaster. The people who had trusted him, the ones who had followed him into the heart of battle… they had paid the price. The Hunters, the merciless soldiers of Astra, had struck when they were most vulnerable, and it had cost him everything.
Wan's hands clenched into fists, the memory still raw. The destruction, the chaos, the blood that had been spilled because he couldn't control his power—it haunted him. Hadn't it been his fault? Hadn't his ambition to lead, to fight back against Astra, been the catalyst for the destruction of everything he had built?
He had failed them once. Could he really do it again? Could he lead these people, the outcasts who now looked to him for guidance, without making the same mistakes? Without leading them into disaster once more?
Talia's words echoed in his mind: You're not alone in this. But what if he was? What if his past was a shadow that would always hang over him, waiting for the right moment to claim him again?
A hand on his shoulder startled him from his thoughts. He turned to see Talia standing beside him, her face serious but compassionate. She had noticed his distance, the way he had withdrawn into himself.
"You're thinking too much," she said softly, sitting down next to him. "I know that look. I've seen it on people before, the weight of responsibility pressing down like a mountain."
Wan glanced at her, then back at the fire. "I've been here before," he muttered. "I've led before, and it ended... badly."
Talia tilted her head slightly, her gaze sharp. "You're not the same person you were back then. This isn't the same situation. The outcasts, they're not just following you because of what you can do. They're following you because they believe in you. Don't you see that?"
Wan shook his head, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. "I didn't ask them to follow me, Talia. They're following because they think I can protect them. Because they think I can give them something they've been missing. But what if I can't? What if I'm not enough?"
Talia's eyes softened, and for a moment, there was nothing but the crackling of the fire between them. "You're enough," she said firmly. "I don't know what happened in your past, but I do know this: You're not alone now. And neither are we. You're leading us, yes, but we're walking with you. All of us."
Wan looked at her, a flicker of something deep inside him stirring. "I'm not sure I believe that," he whispered. "What if I make the same mistakes again? What if I lose control and bring them all down with me?"
Talia's voice was steady, unwavering. "Then you learn from it. And we help you pick up the pieces. But you can't let your past define you, Wan. You can't let the fear of what happened hold you back from moving forward."
The weight of her words pressed against his chest. He wanted to believe her. He wanted to trust in himself, to trust in the people who had begun to place their faith in him. But the fear still lingered—the fear that he would fail them, that he would repeat the same mistakes and drag them into the darkness with him.
For a long moment, the two of them sat in silence, the fire flickering and popping in the still night. Wan didn't know what to say. The questions still gnawed at him, but for the first time in a long while, he allowed himself to lean into the quiet. He had been running from his past for so long, but maybe, just maybe, it was time to stop.
Talia stood up after a while, her gaze lingering on him for a moment longer. "We've all been through something, Wan," she said softly. "But we're still here. And so are you. You're still here. Don't forget that."
Wan watched her walk away, her silhouette disappearing into the shadows of the trees. The night felt colder now, the weight of his thoughts pressing harder than before. But as he sat there, alone with his doubts and fears, a small, flickering hope began to take root.
Maybe he could lead again. Maybe, with time, he could find the strength to rise above his past. To be the leader they needed him to be. But it wouldn't be easy. And it would take more than power—it would take control, humility, and a willingness to trust others, even when his own trust in himself wavered.
And that, he realized, was the true test.
He just hoped he could pass it.