I don't sit down.
Not because I'm fine, I'm not. Everything in me aches in that deep, settled way that tells me the damage already decided where it lives. But the moment I sit, I know I'll want to stay there, and that feels like giving something up I'm not ready to lose.
Scarlett notices immediately.
She doesn't say anything. She just watches me the way someone watches a cracked structure, waiting to see which direction it falls.
Violet looks like she wants to tell me to stop standing. Celeste already knows better.
I lean back against the stone wall instead, folding my arms across my chest more to hold myself together than for comfort.
"You were asking," I say finally. "About why I don't stop."
Scarlett nods once. "Yeah."
"And what it costs you," Violet adds.
Celeste stays quiet. That's new. Or maybe it isn't. Maybe I just didn't notice it before.
"I'm not going to give you some clean explanation," I warn them. "If that's what you're waiting for, you're going to be disappointed."
Scarlett huffs. "We noticed."
I glance at her. "This isn't something I learned. It's something I live with."
Violet tilts her head. "That's not the same thing."
"No," I agree. "It's worse."
I shift my weight, feeling the dull protest in my ribs, and push through it. "You already know what Essence looks like from the outside," I say. "You've seen what it does. What you don't know is what it feels like when I use it."
Scarlett crosses her arms. "Then start there."
I exhale slowly. "It doesn't feel like strength. Not to me. It feels like… refusal."
Violet blinks. "Refusal?"
"When my body says stop," I say, "Essence is the part of me that says no."
Scarlett frowns. "That sounds like adrenaline."
"It isn't," I say immediately. "Adrenaline spikes. This doesn't. It digs."
Celeste's voice cuts in softly. "Digs into what?"
I hesitate.
"My will," I say. "Whatever part of me refuses to let go when everything else is done."
Violet looks down for a moment. "And you… don't break."
I don't answer right away.
"I do," I say eventually. "Just not all at once."
Scarlett stares at me. "That's not comforting."
"I know."
The silence that follows is heavier now. Not awkward. Just honest.
"Essence isn't new," I continue. "It's old. Older than anything we're dealing with now. Humans used to touch it instinctively, before survival got outsourced to systems and shortcuts."
Scarlett's jaw tightens. "You're saying this used to be normal."
"Not like this," I admit. "Not at my level. I know that. I'm not pretending I'm average."
She snorts. "Good."
"But the core of it?" I continue. "The ability to push past collapse, to stay conscious, to keep moving when logic says stop? That was human."
Celeste studies me. "Then why doesn't everyone still do it?"
"Because it hurts," I say plainly. "Because it costs something real. And because most people don't find out they can until they're already breaking."
Violet swallows. "And you don't stop."
"No," I say. "I just… manage how much I open."
Scarlett's eyes narrow. "What do you mean by that?"
I hesitate again, then decide there's no point dancing around it.
"There are limits inside me," I say. "Not walls. Not locks. More like… restraints."
Celeste's gaze sharpens, but she doesn't interrupt.
"They're not something I installed," I continue. "They're already there. Like my body knows if I open everything at once, I won't survive it."
Violet looks up. "How many?"
I glance at her, then away. "Seven."
Scarlett exhales sharply. "Of course there are."
I almost smile. Almost.
"They're not milestones," I say. "They're damage control. Every time I push too far, something in me pushes back."
Celeste folds her hands. "And you don't know what happens when they're all gone."
"No," I say honestly. "I don't."
Scarlett shakes her head slowly. "You live like this… without knowing the end of it."
"I live like this because I don't know the end of it," I reply.
Celeste's voice lowers. "And Nyxia."
The air shifts.
Scarlett straightens. Violet's attention snaps fully back to me.
"She's tied into this," I say. "I don't know how deep yet, but I know it's real."
Violet whispers, "You've seen her."
"Yes."
"She's trapped," Scarlett says.
"Yes."
I drag a hand down my face. "NULL doesn't come from nowhere. Every time it's used, it pulls from her. It drains her. Deletes pieces of her."
Scarlett's jaw tightens. "And the Dracus know."
"They benefit," I say.
Celeste's voice is steady. "And you're trying to stop that."
"I'm trying to understand it first," I reply. "Because charging in blind gets things erased permanently."
Violet looks at me, eyes searching. "You carry all of this… and still refuse to stop."
I shrug weakly. "Someone has to."
Scarlett steps closer. "No. Someone chooses to."
I meet her gaze. "Yeah. I do."
Silence stretches again, taut and waiting.
Violet breaks it. Her voice is quiet, careful. "Then tell us this."
I turn toward her.
"What does it do to you?" she asks. "When you keep pushing Essence past where you should?"
Scarlett watches me. Celeste doesn't blink.
I open my mouth.
Close it.
Because this answer isn't about power.
It's about damage.
I rub my thumb against my palm, grounding myself. "If I keep going," I begin—
And stop.
The words sit there, unfinished.
"Matte?" Violet prompts.
I look at all three of them. Waiting.
"If I keep going," I say again—
And that's where it ends.