Eloise**
The fire crackles softly between us, its warmth chasing away the chill of the night. Caius sits across from me, silent as he tends to his armor, his fingers running over the newly mended plates. The golden glow of the embers flickers over his face, casting sharp shadows across his jaw, his cheekbones.
I should be exhausted.
I *am* exhausted.
But my mind won't stop racing.
I glance down at the pen resting in my palm, its ink seemingly dormant now, but I can still feel the hum of something beneath the surface—like a quiet heartbeat, waiting.
Power.
I hold power beyond anything I could have imagined. And yet, the weight of it is suffocating.
I saved Caius. I altered fate.
But was it the right thing to do?
Caius hasn't spoken much since we escaped. He keeps his distance—not in anger, but in something else. Something heavier.
And I hate it.
Because despite everything I've done to him, despite the pain I've put him through, I want him to trust me.
I *need* him to.
I take a slow breath, the firelight dancing in my vision. "Are you going to stay mad at me forever?"
His hands still for a moment, the gauntlet he was adjusting resting in his lap. He doesn't look up, but I see the shift in his expression, the way his brow furrows slightly.
"I'm not mad at you."
I scoff. "Could've fooled me."
He finally lifts his gaze, golden eyes locking onto mine. "I meant what I said, Eloise. Power like that—changing fate—it *costs* something."
I meet his stare. "And I meant what I said. I want to learn. I *will* learn."
Something flickers in his expression. He leans forward slightly, resting his arms on his knees. "You don't regret it?"
I hesitate.
I should.
I should be afraid of what I did, of what it means.
But instead, I feel something else.
Hope.
"No," I say softly. "I don't."
Caius studies me for a long moment, his gaze unreadable.
Then, he exhales, shaking his head. "You're unbelievable."
A small smile tugs at my lips. "I've been told."
His lips twitch—just barely, but it's there.
The tension between us eases, just a little. The weight of unspoken things still lingers, but for the first time, it doesn't feel like a wall between us.
I watch as Caius reaches for a small dagger, absentmindedly running his fingers over the hilt.
"You really think you can control it?" he asks after a while.
I nod. "I have to."
Silence stretches between us, the fire crackling in the space between words.
And then, to my surprise, Caius does something unexpected.
He pulls a piece of bread from his pack and hands it to me.
I blink. "What's this?"
"Food."
"*You're* giving *me* food?" I tease, raising a brow. "Are you feeling alright?"
He rolls his eyes. "You barely ate earlier."
I take it, warmth curling in my chest. "Thanks."
He says nothing, but I catch the way his gaze softens slightly before he turns his attention back to his armor.
For the first time since we arrived in this world together, I don't feel like an outsider.
I feel like I belong.
And I think—maybe, just maybe—Caius is starting to believe that, too.
Caius**
The fire burns low, embers pulsing like dying stars. The night is quiet now, save for the rustling of leaves in the wind, the distant call of an owl.
And Eloise.
She sleeps.
Curled beneath a thick wool blanket, her breathing slow and steady, strands of hair falling over her face. The lines of exhaustion that had been creasing her brow all evening have finally smoothed out.
She looks—*peaceful*.
For the first time since coming to this world, she looks like she belongs.
I should be sleeping, too. But I can't.
Instead, I watch her.
Not in the way a warrior studies an enemy, nor in the way a man admires a woman.
No, this is something different.
Something *heavier*.
Eloise doesn't understand what she's done.
What she *can* do.
Power like hers—it doesn't come without consequence. It doesn't exist without a price. And yet, she wields it so naturally, so *confidently*, as if she was born to rewrite fate itself.
And maybe she was.
But even so...
I've seen what power does to people.
I've seen what it *costs*.
And *she* hasn't.
Not yet.
I clench my jaw, my fingers tightening around the dagger at my belt.
Eloise is convinced she can learn to control it. That she can wield this power and shape the world into something better.
But the more she changes, the more she rewrites, the less this world will remain her *creation*—and the more it will become something *else*.
Something unknown.
And I... I can't let that happen.
I don't want to see her break under the weight of what she's carrying.
I don't want her to become *something she's not*.
I inhale sharply, forcing myself to relax.
She was upset earlier. I could see it in the way her hands trembled, in the way she clenched her jaw when I questioned her. She wants to prove herself—to prove that she's *strong enough*, that she's *capable*.
And maybe she is.
But that doesn't mean I trust this power.
It doesn't mean I trust what it will do to her.
So, I won't stop her. Not yet.
But I *will* be watching.
And when the time comes—when she goes too far, when she risks losing herself—
I'll be the one to stop her.
Even if it means breaking what little trust we've built.
Even if it means becoming her enemy.
I exhale slowly, letting the tension drain from my shoulders. The fire crackles, the wind shifts, and Eloise sighs softly in her sleep.
I let my eyes linger on her one last time.
Then, silently, I turn away.