Amara Osei woke to the scent of blood and scorched ash. For a long moment, she didn't move. She couldn't. Her body felt foreign, like it didn't belong to her anymore. Her ears were ringing, her thoughts scattered, and the only thing anchoring her to consciousness was the distant hum of the subway, the faint crackle of broken lights, and the ringing in her ears.
Amara gasped, sitting up too quickly. Pain bloomed in her ribs. She winced, gripping her side. Her vision blurred for a second before snapping back into focus.
She turned her head, her hazel eyes scanning her surroundings, which had been reduced to nothing short of a battlefield.
The wrecked train bent slightly off track, its shattered windows reflecting the crimson emergency lights overhead. Debris littered the platform—twisted metal, splintered seats, and the torn bodies of those who weren't fast enough to escape. The air was thick with the metallic tang of blood, mixing with the acrid scent of something not quite human.
Steeling herself to bear the pain, Amara Osei began crawling her way to the subway's platform and there, sprawled across the floor, lay the man who had saved her life. Her breath caught when she registered what condition he was in.
His arm—
Oh God.
She scrambled toward him, hands shaking as she reached out—but then she froze.
What about the monster?
That's when she sensed the presence looming besides Rhys.
The woman barely spared her a glance, her burning amber eyes locked onto the dismembered corpse of the Reaper. Her face was unreadable—cold, composed, utterly unimpressed—like this wasn't the aftermath of a brutal fight, but just another chore on her list.
She was tall, her posture almost lazy, yet her presence coiled like a blade just waiting to be unsheathed. Thick, midnight-black hair cascaded in waves past her shoulders, catching the dim light. Her skin, smooth and sun-kissed, contrasted against her long white coat with silver embroidery that caught the faint light.
Her hand rested on the hilt of a sheathed blade, the deep green of its scabbard breaking the monochrome of her attire. Tendrils of black mist curled off its edge, whispering something just beneath the threshold of sound, a presence of its own.
She exhaled through her nose, flicking the blood from the weapon with a quick snap of her wrist.
"They sent me to deal with this?" she muttered, her voice dry. "What a waste of my time."
The woman pressed against an earpiece and began laying out a report to the person on the receiving end.
Amara Osei was in disbelief. This woman—this warrior—had cut the Reaper down in seconds.
She had done effortlessly what she and the man dying in front of her had fought desperately to survive.
And now she was looking at her. As she drew closer to Amara, Amara noticed the rune-like tattoo on her neck. The jagged crescent peeked from beneath her at, it's dark lines creeping towards her cheek like cracks in porcelain. The pattern was intricate, curling at the edges as though it had been seared onto her skin. In the dim light, it pulsed once—deep amber before fading back into her skin.
A Revenant. Amara remarked internally.
The woman studied her head, tilting slightly. Her gaze wasn't unkind, but it wasn't exactly friendly either.
"Mmm, you're alive," she said bluntly as she began speaking into the earpiece again. "It doesn't look like there are any other survivors besides the ones who escaped. I will personally take the girl to receive medical attention, but as for the man—"
Amara couldn't help but still think of the man who saved her because, while she was badly injured, she was treading the line between life and death.
Her mouth was dry, but she forced herself to speak.
"Who… who are you?"
The Revenant wiped the last of the Reaper's blood from her blade, her amber gaze piercing straight through her.
For a second, she didn't answer.
"I'm the one who just saved your life."
Amara swallowed. "Please—" She hesitated, glancing at the man again.
The Revenant followed her gaze, her eyes flicking toward the blood pooling beneath his unmoving body.
"Don't worry, he's not dead," she said flatly. "Not yet, anyway."
Relief hit Amara so hard she nearly collapsed. Her knees wobbled, and she had to grip the edge of a broken subway bench to steady herself.
The Revenant took a step closer.
"And you," she continued, gaze sharp. "What's your name?"
The question sent a jolt through Amara. "My name?"
The Revenant's expression remained unreadable, but there was something expectant in her eyes.
"Yes. I assume you have one."
Amara's throat tightened. For some reason, saying it aloud felt... strange. As if, the moment she did, something irreversible would happen.
But she had no reason to hesitate.
"…Amara."
The Revenant hummed, as if considering the name. She received a message through the earpiece and turned away from Amara whilst taking in the message, occasionally shooting a glance back at Amara.
Then, after a pause, she finally spoke.
"Vahari."
Amara blinked. "What?"
The woman sheathed her sword with a smooth, practiced motion and made her way to help Amara to her feet.
"My name." She glanced at Amara again, something calculating but unreadable in her expression. "It's Vahari. And I've just been told you are to come with me."
Amara's face looked shocked for a second before settling down and asked, "You're with Wayne Company."
Vahari nodded. "But first I need to confirm something first."
Vahari then lifted Amara's hoodie, revealing rune-like tattoos similar to hers, but resembling a swirling mass of ancient looking symbols around her belly button.
The reason Amara had been taking the subway rather early was because Wayne Company invited her itself. She had awakened as a Revenant pretty early into the chaos but the Companies always ignored her since she had no power. That is until Wayne Company invited her, a relatively newer Company that was established last year but quickly shot up in the Rankings.
"It's no wonder you survived, but I'm honestly surprised he survived an encounter with a Reaper"
Amara cast her gaze towards Rhys. "I'm actually alive because of him," she paused, a flicker of guilt and gratitude passing through her, "he could have run like everyone else, but he fought."
Vahari scoffed. "Stupid move."
Amara's head snapped toward her, eyes wide. "Excuse me?"
Vahari shrugged, clearly unfazed. "Could've run. Should've run. Saying that doesn't matter now, he threw himself at a Marauder like some idiot hero." She tilted her head. "That kind of thing gets people killed."
Amara clenched her fists. "He's not an idiot. He—" She hesitated. What was he? Just some guy on the train? A stranger? Why did something about him feel comforting and familiar?
Her voice dropped. "He didn't have to save me."
For a moment, Vahari didn't respond. She simply observed Amara with those sharp, calculating eyes before sighing. "Yeah, well. That's not your problem now." She rolled her shoulders, then jerked her chin toward Amara. "We're leaving"
"Wait!" protested Amara, "What about him?"
Vahari raised a hand, dismissing her.
"I've already called for a medical team. Honestly, he'll be lucky if he survives, so I don't want to waste any more time here with you."
Amara looked over to see the medical team arriving, beginning their operations on Rhys. She hesitated for a moment, but finally, she let out a soft, resigned sigh.
"I hope to see you again, Mister…"
With that, she turned away and followed Vahari.