Sera sat at the table, her plate of food untouched, the sounds of the mess tent swirling around her as if they were coming from another world. She had long since stopped caring about the small things—food, sleep, pleasantries. There was only the mission, only the war, and that relentless ache that never seemed to go away.

Finn’s gaze, like it always did, landed on her. She could feel it burning into her skin, even as she kept her attention on the food in front of her, picking at it without real hunger. She didn’t need to look up to know he was watching. He always did, like there was something he was trying to figure out, something he thought he could understand about her. But Sera wasn’t some puzzle to solve. She was a weapon. And weapons weren’t meant to be understood.

Still, a tight knot formed in her chest at the thought. It wasn’t guilt—not exactly. Guilt was for people who had a choice. She didn’t have a choice. She’d never had a choice.

The weight of it pressed on her again, as it always did. The fire, the destruction—whole villages burned to ash, and the lives she’d extinguished without a second thought. It was her job. No hesitation. That’s what they had taught her to be. Ruthless. A weapon that couldn’t afford to care. Yet, despite the cold exterior, the emptiness inside her never seemed to go away. There was nothing to fill it—no victory, no praise, no one to understand the toll it took on her soul.

She forced her eyes down to her food again, but Finn was still there, his eyes heavy with that same curiosity, that same unsaid question. She wasn’t sure how long it had been since he started staring, but eventually, Zoya’s sharp slap to Finn’s arm broke the silence, snapping him out of whatever trance he had been in. Sera’s chest tightened, but she didn’t let it show. She couldn’t.

It was better this way. Better if he didn’t understand her, didn’t try to. She was too dangerous to be near, too lost to be found. It didn’t matter how much his presence made her feel something she couldn’t quite name. She had no place for those feelings.

And yet, as the sergeant’s voice echoed across the tent, Sera found herself glancing at Finn again, just enough to catch the weight in his expression as he turned his attention back to the front. His face was tense, distant, weighed down by whatever burden he was carrying. She couldn’t help but wonder, just for a moment, if he knew what it was like to live with that kind of emptiness. To carry the weight of things that could never be undone.

She tried to push the thought away, focusing instead on the mission, on the duty she had been trained to fulfill. *No one gets close. Not anymore.*

But something shifted within her. Her gaze flickered back to Finn once more, and before she could stop herself, the words slipped out: “Mind if I sit here?” The question was quieter than she intended, and as soon as it left her lips, she regretted it. Her walls had never felt more fragile.

She waited, unsure of what had driven her to say it. The ache inside her pushed against her carefully constructed distance, and for the first time in a long while, she wasn’t sure if it was better to keep the world at arm's length—or if, just maybe, it was worth trying to let someone in.

Sera’s expression remained impassive as she sat next to Finn, but inside, a storm of emotions churned. Her mind kept drifting back to the countless lives she had taken in the name of duty—villages reduced to ashes, families torn apart by her hand. Her magic had always been a weapon, but now it felt like a curse, a weight she couldn’t escape no matter how far she tried to run from her past.

She hadn’t been trained to make friends, to connect with others. Her only purpose had been to fight, to kill, to follow orders without question. Yet here she was, sitting next to Finn—kind, gentle Finn—feeling a strange sense of guilt, and worse, longing. She didn’t know how to reconcile that with the person she had been made to be. The ruthless soldier who burned her enemies without a second thought. And now, there was this other part of her, buried deep, craving peace, warmth, and the kind of safety she hadn’t known since she was a child.

She couldn’t afford to get too close. Her detachment was a shield, and it had kept her alive this long. But Finn’s quiet presence was like a chisel, slowly wearing away at the walls she’d built around herself. She could feel him, not staring, but just… being there. And that presence unsettled her.

She turned her focus back to her food, but her appetite was gone. The memories, the nightmares of destruction, loomed over her. The guilt gnawed at her, each bite feeling like a betrayal of her past.

Sera didn’t trust herself to speak. If she did, the words might slip out—words she wasn’t ready to say. So, she stayed silent, allowing the uneasy quiet between them to stretch on. At least Finn wasn’t pushing her to talk. He was like the healer in her memories—the only one who had ever seen through the walls she’d built. But even the healer had left her in the end, and Sera didn’t know if she could afford to trust Finn in the same way.

Her eyes flickered to him briefly, but she quickly looked away. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to know if he could see the conflict inside her. If he could see the cracks in her stoic armor. She wasn’t sure she wanted to trust him. Not yet.

Sera watched them go, her mind still lingering on the moment from breakfast. Finn had smiled at her—Finn, with his easy grin and laid-back attitude. That was nothing new; he was always kind, always friendly. But for some reason, today it had felt different. It was like he saw her—really saw her.

She’d never been one for casual conversations. Zoya and Micheal were easy to talk to, they had that warmth, that effortless camaraderie, but Sera? She kept to herself, hiding behind her walls. So why had she let them in this morning? Why had she decided, without thinking, to sit with them? The question gnawed at her as she folded another blanket, trying to focus on the task at hand.

She could hear Finn’s voice in the distance, muffled by the clatter of dishes and the shuffle of feet. Was he still thinking about her? Her stomach twisted at the thought. Did he wonder what she was doing there, too? Why she’d chosen that moment, that table, to let down her guard?

Sera shook her head, irritated at herself. *Stop thinking about it*. She had been clear with herself: emotions were a distraction, and distractions led to mistakes. She wasn’t here to make friends or find comfort. She was here for a reason. The war didn’t care about who you sat with during breakfast, and neither did she.

Still, she couldn’t help but steal one last glance in Finn’s direction. There was something about him, something that made it hard to ignore the way her chest fluttered when he smiled at her. A strange pull she hadn’t felt before, not like this.

The bell rang to signal the start of the day, and Sera quickly turned back to her work. She couldn’t afford to linger on thoughts like these. The day was waiting for her, and the camp needed its medic sharp and focused. She'd go back to her quiet, solitary ways, just as she always had. But for some reason, Finn’s smile kept lingering in the back of her mind.

Sera could feel her pulse quicken as the announcement echoed through the speaker system, pulling her attention away from the last of the preparations. Her team. She was on the list, her name clear as day, and though she’d heard it a dozen times before, today, it hit differently.

It was hard to concentrate as the final call came in. Her mind was elsewhere, not fully focused on the mission ahead. She knew she had to be sharp—needed to be sharp—but Finn was still there in her thoughts, even after all this time. Even now, as she tightened the straps on her armor, she couldn’t stop thinking about how he’d looked at her this morning, how his smile had made her heart skip.

She pushed those thoughts away, like she always did, but it wasn’t always easy. Finn had a way of slipping into her mind when she least expected it. The problem was, on the battlefield, distractions could get people killed. And she knew that better than anyone.

The attack started like any other. The sound of footsteps, the rush of adrenaline, the heat of the moment, but it wasn’t long before Sera found herself distracted again. A shadow passed too quickly, and she barely had time to react before—

Pain.

A sharp burn across her side. Her vision blurred, and she staggered back, clutching her side. A blast had clipped her—something she should’ve seen coming but hadn’t. Because she’d been thinking of him.

Her mind was a mess of thoughts, most of them focused on Finn and how stupid she’d been. She had to focus. She had to ignore these feelings. She’d promised herself that. But how could she when his face, that damn smile, kept appearing just as she was about to fire? She was so distracted. She’d let herself slip, and now she was paying the price.

Sera collapsed to her knees, her breath ragged and shallow as the world spun around her. Her hand clutched at the wound on her side, the searing pain nearly blinding her. The metallic taste of blood lingered on her tongue as she fought to keep her mind focused, to keep herself from slipping into oblivion. The battlefield blurred in her peripheral vision, the sounds of gunfire and explosions muffled by the pounding of her heart.

*Focus, Sera, focus.*

Her instincts kicked in, forcing her to remain conscious despite the overwhelming pain. She could hear the shouts of her team, but they felt distant, like they were coming from another world. Her vision tunneled, her body screaming for rest, for release, but she couldn’t give in. Not yet. She gritted her teeth, trying to push through the fog of dizziness and nausea.

Through the haze, she saw Finn’s face again, clearer than ever. His smile, that damnable smile, mocking her. A reminder of what she had to lose if she failed, if she couldn’t get it together. He hadn’t been there when she needed him most—he hadn’t even known she was thinking of him when she should have been focused on the mission. The guilt hit her harder than the wound.

Her fingers tightened on her side, but the blood continued to pour, staining her armor, dripping onto the ground beneath her. She was losing too much. Her breaths became ragged, every inhale feeling like a struggle. She didn’t have much time.

She needed to move. She needed to get back to her team. *Stay alive. Keep fighting.*

With a shaky breath, she forced herself to stand, her legs unsteady beneath her, but there was no time to waste. Her hand still clutched at her side, but it wasn’t enough. The blood was slowing her down. She staggered forward, trying to make it to cover, but each step felt like it might be her last.

"Get back, Sera! You’re hurt!" A voice shouted from behind her—Lena, one of her teammates. But Sera didn’t stop. She couldn’t.

Her vision flickered, darkening at the edges, the world tilting unnaturally as her knees buckled again. She fought to stay on her feet, her fingers sliding against the ground as she tried to stabilize herself.

*I can’t do this,* she thought, her pulse thumping in her ears. *I’m not going to make it.*

But then, through the blur of her thoughts, through the pain and the blood, she heard Finn’s voice, not from the past but in her mind, as if he were standing beside her. “Sera... you can’t give up now.”

His words echoed, drowning out everything else. *You can’t give up now.*

With every ounce of strength she had left, Sera pushed herself up one last time, forcing her body to obey as the pain seared through her like wildfire. Her vision sharpened briefly, just long enough to see her team moving toward her. But even as they reached her, as the pain finally overwhelmed her, Sera couldn’t help but smile weakly.

She wasn’t sure if she’d make it out of this, but the memory of his voice, of his smile, would stay with her no matter what. She had to believe that.

And then, everything went black.