The wall vibrates again.
A low, heavy thud that sends dust trembling down the corner of the room like the whole house is exhaling wrong.
Kai's hand shoots out instantly, grabbing my elbow, pulling me back from the sound even though I wasn't moving toward it.
"Kai—" I whisper.
"Don't," he says. Quiet. Firm. Focused.
The lights flicker again—twice this time.
I inhale sharply. "Is it still out there?"
He doesn't answer.
Which is an answer.
"Kai," I whisper again, "just tell me—"
"Aurora." He cuts me off without even looking at me. "Not now."
"How is 'now' not the time? Something is hitting the walls!"
"Exactly," he murmurs. "And if you panic—"
"I'm not panicking!"
"You are."
"I'm talking—there's a difference!"
"Not for you."
I glare. "Stop treating me like—"
"Like what?" he snaps suddenly. His head whips toward me, eyes sharp. "Like someone who almost ran straight into danger five minutes ago?"
My mouth opens.
Stays open.
He steps closer. "Like someone who has no idea what she's capable of? Someone who refuses to listen? Someone who—"
"Someone who doesn't know what's happening because you never tell me anything!" I shoot back.
He freezes.
The silence after that hits harder than the thing outside the wall.
Kai's jaw tightens, then his voice drops. "You weren't supposed to see that thing."
"What thing?" I demand. "You still won't even name it!"
"Because naming it won't help you."
"Yes, it would!"
"No," he says, breath harsh. "It would make you spiral."
"You're acting like I'm helpless."
"You are."
I shove him. Hard. "I'm not!"
He doesn't even step back, but his eyes flash. "You don't get it."
"Then explain it!"
"You can't handle the explanation."
"You don't get to decide what I can handle!"
He moves closer again—too fast—until my back hits the wall. Not rough. Just… decisive.
His voice drops to a low, warning register. "Aurora. Stop."
"No."
"You don't know what you're saying."
"I know exactly what I'm saying."
His breath hits my cheek—controlled, but edged.
"Aurora…"
"You keep saying something is hunting me," I push out, my voice shaking from fear or adrenaline or both. "Something is coming after me. I deserve to know what it is!"
"No."
"Why?"
"Because it'll make things worse."
"How?!"
His eyes lock onto mine, dark and unblinking.
"Because it's not a thing."
I blink. "What?"
He swallows once. "It's not an it."
"Then what is—"
"It's you."
I feel like I've been punched.
"What does that even mean?" I whisper.
He tilts his head, almost like he's choosing each word individually. "You know those gaps in your memory? Those nights you can't remember? Those hours you lose? You think those were normal?"
"I—I thought they were trauma. Stress. Dissociation—something like that—"
"They weren't."
My heart slams.
"Kai," I whisper, "you're scaring me."
"Good."
That stops me cold.
"Why would you say that?" I breathe.
"Because fear is the only thing keeping you still right now."
"I'm not a threat."
"Yes," he says quietly. "You are."
"To who?!"
"To yourself. And everyone else."
My breath cuts out.
"Kai…" I whisper.
"Not now." He lifts a hand to my cheek—not tender, but grounding. "Just breathe. I need you calm before—"
But I'm not calm.
A spark shoots through my chest—sharp, cold, electric.
My vision blurs for a second.
Kai stiffens instantly. "Aurora?"
"I—I don't know," I whisper. "I feel… weird."
"Where?" His hand holds my jaw gently, trying to keep me focused.
"My head. My chest. Everything feels… wrong."
"Look at me," he orders.
"I am."
"No," he says. "You're looking through me."
I grip his shirt because my hands suddenly feel numb. "Something's—Kai, something's happening."
He curses under his breath. "Not now…"
A cold shiver runs down my spine, but it's not fear.
It's something else.
Something crawling up from under my ribs.
"Kai…" My voice cracks. "What's… what's happening to me?"
His thumb brushes my cheekbone. "Stay with me. Stay right here. Don't drift."
"I'm not drifting—"
"Yes, you are."
"No, I—I'm here."
"Aurora." His voice sharpens. "Look at me. Now."
"I am—"
But suddenly the room stretches. The lights tilt. The floor feels too far away.
I blink rapidly.
Another blink.
Another—
Everything tilts again, harder.
Kai moves instantly, hands on my shoulders. "Aurora. Listen. Don't fight it."
"I'm not trying to—"
"You are."
"I don't—Kai, I can't—"
"Aurora!"
A sharp ringing cuts through my ears.
And then—
A different voice slips out of my mouth.
"Let go of me."
Kai freezes.
His grip loosens just barely—but not from fear. From recognition.
He whispers, "No. Not you."
The voice that isn't mine laughs softly.
Dark.
Cold.
Familiar in a way that terrifies me.
"Kai," she says through my lips, "you're in my way."
"Aurora can't handle this," he mutters, jaw clenching.
"Oh, Aurora isn't here."
My breath isn't mine anymore.
My posture shifts.
My fingers curl into his shirt—harder than I meant to.
He whispers her name like a warning.
"Aria."
The thing inside me—Aria—smiles without my permission.
"You kept her in the dark," she says. "Locked her in that tiny little brain, pretending it was for her protection."
"This isn't the time," Kai snaps.
"It is," she purrs. "It's exactly the time."
He tries to steady my shoulders again, but she tilts my head, studying him with my eyes.
"Still trying to save her?" she asks. "Still pretending she can survive what's coming?"
"Stop," he says.
She smiles wider. "But you know she can't."
"Aria—"
"She's too soft," she says, voice dripping with something sharp. "Too scared. Too trusting. She always has been."
Kai's jaw clenches. "Let her go."
"No."
"Aria."
"No."
He exhales shakily, like he hates what he has to say next.
"You're hurting her."
Aria tilts my head again. "You say that like you think I care."
He steps closer, his voice dropping. "You do."
Aria laughs. "Not enough."
He reaches for my face to ground me, but she jerks back violently.
"Don't touch me."
"Aurora—" he tries.
Aria growls. "SHE'S NOT HERE!"
He freezes.
My breath—Aria's breath—comes out uneven, almost glitching between us.
"Kai…" Aria whispers. "You should've told her sooner."
"I was trying to—"
"You always try." Her voice softens dangerously. "You never succeed."
He looks at me like he's searching for the real me under the surface. "Aurora. If you can hear me—fight her. Push back. Don't let her—"
Aria rolls my eyes. "She's unconscious. You're talking to a locked room."
"Aurora," he repeats, ignoring her. "Listen to me. You can push her back. You've done it before."
"She's not listening." Aria's smile widens. "I made sure of it."
Kai steps forward again.
And that's when Aria's control snaps fully into place.
My arm swings.
Sharp.
Fast.
Uncontrolled.
His hand catches my wrist just in time.
"Aurora wouldn't," he says quietly.
"I'm not Aurora."
His grip tightens—not hurting, just stopping me. "You won't hurt me."
"I could," she whispers.
"But you won't."
Aria smiles again.
Then—
My knees buckle.
The room spins violently.
Kai lunges forward, catching me before I hit the floor.
"Aurora!"
But I'm already slipping.
Aria's voice fades.
My own voice doesn't come back.
Everything goes black.
I don't hit the floor.
A hand catches me before the world can finish collapsing. Fingers—warm, rough, frighteningly steady—wrap around my wrist first, then my waist. My vision crackles like a broken TV screen, flashing white, then black, then something in between.
Someone is speaking.
Not to me—over me.
Two voices. One sharp. One low.
My head lolls sideways, and shapes blur into shadows. The cold wall disappears from my back, replaced by a chest—solid, steady, unfamiliar.
"Move," a man snaps.
"No, you move," another growls. "She's in shock. Your timing is garbage."
Their words slam into each other like weapons, heated, snapping apart, clashing again before I can understand any of it.
My lips part. Air slips in, but oxygen refuses to stay.
I know this feeling.
This pull.
This drowning from the inside.
Aurora... breathe.
The voice—Aria's voice—presses into the back of my skull like a palm.
I try.
I swear I try.
But my lungs ignore me.
Something inside me is tearing—not physically, but mentally—like two pieces of myself yanking in opposite directions.
A low curse vibrates against my ear. "She's fading."
"I said back off! You caused this!"
"No. You caused it by keeping her in the dark."
The argument grows teeth—sharp, angry, biting at the air.
I blink.
The world sharpens for a split second.
A jawline. Dark hair. A flash of cold eyes.
Then another figure inches closer, breaths harsh, controlled, furious for reasons I can't begin to guess.
They feel familiar.
Not to Aurora.
To Aria.
We know them.
Her whisper slices through my panic, coiling around my ribs, trying to squeeze me back together. But my body is refusing to listen. My vision splinters again, shattering into fragments that won't align no matter how hard I try to piece them together.
A hand cups my cheek—not gently, not cruelly. Firm. Testing. As if checking whether I'm still here.
"Look at me," he orders.
I want to—God, I want to—but the darkness is dragging me backward, swallowing the edges of the room.
Something presses against my forehead. Skin. Warm. Intent.
Then—
A slap.
Soft, but enough to jolt my eyes halfway open.
"Stay awake," he growls.
Another voice bites out, "You're going to make it worse—she's not a soldier."
"Neither are you," the first one snaps back.
Through the fog, I feel my fingers twitch. A tremor runs through my arm. My veins ache like someone poured ice into them.
"Her pulse is dropping."
"No—it's spiking. She's fighting it."
"Fighting what?"
"Whatever the hell you triggered."
A sound escapes me—a whimper, maybe. I'm not sure it even leaves my throat.
Then…
Aria pushes forward.
Not fully.
Not enough to take over.
Just enough to open my eyes one last time.
The room stops spinning.
The lights stop flashing.
The shadows freeze.
And I see him.
Dark eyes locked on mine.
Jaw clenched.
Breath tight.
Fear—actual fear—flickering behind the anger.
He says my name.
Not Aurora.
Aria.
A cold wave crashes through me so hard my spine arches.
The other man lunges forward. "She's going under—"
I don't hear the rest.
The darkness clamps down like jaws snapping shut.
And this time… it wins.
My body drops, limp.
Hands catch me again, but I'm already sliding into the void—silently, helplessly, completely.
The voices fade.
The room dissolves.
Everything goes quiet.
Except Aria.
Her voice curls around me like smoke.
"Sleep, little Aurora. I'll handle this."
Then even she disappears.
And the world goes black.