Mel:
Heat pressed down on me, heavy and suffocating, like I was lying beneath a blazing sun. Every breath felt thick, my skin damp with sweat, my body sore in a way that went far beyond simple exhaustion. It felt like I'd been thrown—tossed around violently—like something massive had overwhelmed me and left me broken in its wake.
My thoughts came slowly, disconnected, as if my mind was wading through deep water. I tried to remember what happened, but every time I reached for the memory, it scattered. I couldn't put the pieces together. Time felt warped; I had no idea how long I'd been unconscious. My limbs were heavy, sluggish, like I'd been drugged.
I shifted slightly, trying to orient myself, and pain flared so sharply it stole the air from my lungs. A low sound escaped me before I could stop it. From what I could tell, I was in a hospital—but not one I recognized. The walls were wrong. The machines sounded different. This definitely wasn't the Haven.
Panic crept in fast, tightening my chest.
Before it could spiral, the door opened.
I craned my neck to see who it was and immediately regretted it. Pain tore through my head and neck, white-hot and blinding. I sucked in a shaky breath, blinking hard.
Asher stood in the doorway.
He smiled when he saw my eyes open, relief clear on his face—but it didn't reach his eyes. There was sadness there. Heavy and exhausted.
I tried to sit up, or at least move more than an inch, but my body refused. Nothing responded the way it should. Fear flickered again as my brain struggled to catch up.
Asher hurried to my bedside and gently took the hand I'd managed to poke out from under the blanket. His grip was warm and steady, grounding.
"How are you feeling?" he asked softly.
I swallowed, my throat painfully dry. My stomach burned with every breath, sharp and deep, like something inside me was cracked and grinding together. Broken ribs. That had to be it.
My voice barely worked. "What… happened?"
The words came out hoarse, followed by a coughing fit that sent agony tearing through my chest. I gasped, vision blurring as Asher immediately leaned closer.
He shook his head, jaw tight, refusing to meet my eyes.
"What?" I pressed.
"It was bad, Mel." He let go of my hand slowly. "That's all I can say."
My heart started racing.
"Almost a hundred people died. Innocent people. Just… bystanders."
He bowed his head, shoulders slumping as if the weight of it was crushing him. He looked like he was barely holding himself together.
My stomach twisted violently.
"I—I don't really remember," I whispered.
He exhaled shakily. "It's probably a good thing."
Silence stretched between us, thick and awful.
"Is Arcade okay?" I asked suddenly.
Asher looked up. "Last time I checked. He got a head wound, but nothing he won't walk away from."
Relief hit me so hard I nearly cried. My chest loosened, breath coming easier, like that had been the answer my body was waiting for.
Even without the memories, the sensations lingered. I could still smell smoke. Burning flesh. Hear screaming echoing faintly in my head. I had been standing in the middle of that stage when it exploded—how was I even alive?
Mages.
There was no other explanation.
Did they hate us this much? Enough to slaughter innocent humans? People who had nothing to do with the war?
They were the irregulars. We were supposed to be the threat.
I studied Asher more closely. Scrapes lined his arms, dried blood streaking down his skin. His lip was swollen, split slightly at the corner.
A doctor entered sometime later.
He was short and heavyset, with a mop of black hair and tired eyes. Human. Of course.
"I just want to say I'm sorry for what you've been through," he said, glancing between Asher and me. His tone was practiced, hollow—like he'd repeated the same line all day.
"It must have been terrible," he added quietly.
I turned my head away. The lack of emotion unsettled me more than pity would have.
"You have a concussion," he continued briskly. "Not severe, but expect dizziness, confusion, nausea, and fatigue. You've also got a few broken ribs, which explains the pain. Most of your injuries will heal with rest."
He smiled reassuringly and scribbled something on his clipboard.
"Any questions?"
Asher squeezed my hand and shook his head.
"No," I croaked.
The doctor nodded and left, the door clicking shut behind him.
Asher didn't look relieved. If anything, he looked worse.
"What's wrong?" I asked.
He pulled his hand away and stared at the floor.
"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I'm so sorry."
"Hey," I murmured. "It's okay. We're okay."
"Not all of us."
My chest tightened.
"Hannah," he said, voice breaking. "Arcade's roommate. She… she didn't make it. Another boy from our class died too. Along with his twin sister."
My head swam. None of it made sense.
This wasn't how mages operated. According to everything we'd learned, they targeted threats—leaders, fighters, symbols. Not crowds. Not civilians.
Unless something had changed.
Unless someone ruthless was leading them now.
"They're sending anyone who can back to the Haven," Asher said.
I stared at him blankly.
"Oh," he sighed, "you haven't heard a word I've been saying, have you?"
I shook my head.
"It's okay," he said gently. "I know you're worried about Cade. He's fine. He's going back too."
"Sent home?" I asked.
"Yeah. This is a human hospital. They can't protect us, and just having us here puts them at risk."
I nodded slowly. I understood. It was written law—magic users couldn't guard humans unless related. Even helping could land us in prison. Humans were weaker. Vulnerable. And forbidden to protect.
"You never know who might be a mage here," I added quietly.
Asher nodded. "Exactly."
He turned to leave, but I grabbed his arm.
"What?" he snapped, startled.
"Have I ever told you you're a great friend?"
He softened just a little. "Thanks."
He slipped free of my grip.
"Don't get mushy now," he said lightly. "You'll see me again. It's Cade you should worry
about."
Then he left.
I stared at the door long after it closed, too tired and too broken to understand why his words unsettled me so much.