Flames danced between them, all bright with their golden sheen that pierced into the dark metallic rubble. The cold now stung the air in the silence between Ethan and his adversary. His hands, curled about the old, scarred hilt of his own blade, felt its chill promise no solace, not a reassuring feel in this tortured thinking over and over of that hour against the peculiar glowing stranger.
It had haunted him ever since they'd escaped from the bottom rungs of that metal place, and now he wouldn't shake it from his mind.
"What was that thing?" Ethan whispered, voice low and unsure.
Amara sat near the fire, light on her sharp features. She was beautiful in a way that unsettled him. It wasn't just her features; it was the air of confidence about her, the sharp intelligence that seemed to dwell in her gaze. She wasn't beautiful; she was unyielding.
"It's not always what things are," she said quietly, pulling out a small metal flask and taking a sip of its contents. "Sometimes it's what they represent."
Ethan furrowed his brow, trying to understand what the statement said. She wasn't helping, but she wasn't lying about anything, either. It was the first time something like this had ever happened to him-that is, something like this shining, glowing figure in some deep metal and ruins.
She said nothing. She just watched the flames, her face closed. There was silence between them for a time, then: "Power," she said, quite flatly. Her voice was level, the edge cut sharp. "Unlimited, primordial power."
Ethan tried to shake off the queasiness that had come with her words. He found himself staring at the dancing flames, unable to look away. Something about them seemed familiar, and that unsettled him even more.
He took a shaky breath. "We've seen power before," he said. "But that thing felt… alive."
Amara looked at him, her eyes piercing, holding his. "It may very well be," she said. Her voice dropped a little, conspiratorial, as though she were sharing secrets with him and no one else. "Technology like that isn't just metal and wires. Sometimes it's something far older, far more advanced. Intelligent, maybe. At least, *self-aware.*
The words sent a shiver down his spine. Ethan leaned back into the cold, metallic wall behind him, gripping his weapon tightly as if warding off the creeping anxiety. His mind was a swirl of thoughts and doubts now. Amara wasn't some stranger to dangerous things or secrets, but her cryptic words felt important.
He wanted to ask more, question her more, but the moment was great. So he managed to shut his mouth.
Amara returned to the fire, and she took another sip from her flask. She moved with a fluidity that was almost practiced: every step, every glance, every action came from some well-rehearsed experience. Ethan couldn't help but wonder what her story was. She was so strong, calm, and unyielding. She felt like a puzzle, just out of his reach.
They sat there in silence for a while. Ethan stared into the fire's dancing glow, lost to his thoughts. He could hear the distant sounds of the ruins: the groan of metal here and there, the distant whistle of wind through forgotten tunnels. They weren't alone, and that much was clear. Ethan couldn't shake the feeling that something was always watching.
"I need some rest," he finally said, trying to pull himself out of his thoughts. His voice sounded steadier than he felt but wasn't sure if it was convincing.
Amara nodded wordlessly, silhouetted in the fire glow. She put her flask down by her side and then began to tidy out of her bag. Ethan took this as an opportunity to gather his pack closer over him, extended long legs working the kink out of his back and he let his eyes wander over where she worked.
She held in herself an unspoken strength. In the presence, there seemed no breaking through her. The danger stood right beside them, even as she held to some sort of intensity that lay completely in the moment itself. Ethan made a very hard effort to keep himself away from her mind, unable not to.
Amara looked at him again as she worked on her gear. "Don't overthink things," she said, as if she was reading his mind.
He blinked, surprised. "What?"
She gave him a faintly teasing, sly smile. Her gaze was sharp and intelligent. "Your mind is always running, Ethan. You think too much. Relax."
She was already standing up, her body moving fluidly to her feet, as she took off to scout the perimeter of their small firelight with her weapon at the ready. Ethan watched her for a moment before he shook his head.
"Trust," he whispered.
Her voice came back to him from the darkness. "Trust is a fragile thing, but it keeps you alive."
He spoke the words again and again, even if they were to calm or shake him. He clenched his hands around his weapon and concentrated on something. It felt like the tension that brewed between them was about to burst.
Night squeezed the room in around them, shadows alive. All sounds cut a little sharp and evil. Ethan couldn't help but think of that very same glowing figure he'd seen earlier. That metallic figure with its glowing, alien eyes. Could be watching them right this second.
He instinctively reached for his gun and tried to shake his thoughts free. Not paranoia. Not entirely.
"I'll take the first watch," Amara declared, pulling Ethan from his thought-rolling spiral. She stepped again, firm in her voice, but controlled, rifle by her side.
He stopped in his tracks, hesitated and his throat closed off. His heart would still pound in his chest like a drum but he continued talking. "Okay," he said voice steadying. "I'll take the second."
She nodded and let her gaze drift off into the darkness in front of them. "Get some rest, Ethan. We will need our strength."
She disappeared into the darkness before he could say anything. He was left to his thoughts and the crackling of the fire.
Ethan lay back against the metallic wall, his eyes closing. Sleep didn't find him easily. His brain was a whirlpool of half-formed thoughts, fear, and questions. What did that figure mean? Is it the first of the many threats they'd meet in that place? Or was something else lurking deeper? He knew just one thing: the answers were coming.
But how much of himself would he have to risk to find them?
The thought gnawed at him, but he forced his eyes shut and tried to let the fire and the distant groans of the metal calm him.
Sleep found him eventually, but it came fitfully, accompanied by visions he couldn't understand and memories that felt like fragments of another life.