Sera's hand tightened around Finn's, the faintest tremor running through her as she looked up at him. His smile was kind, but the warmth in his eyes only made the memories more vivid. She swallowed hard, feeling the weight of his question pressing on her chest.

"I... I remember," she began, her voice barely above a whisper, "I remember being shot. It hurt... so much." She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to push the pain away, but it lingered, sharp and cruel. "Everything after that is a blur... I don't know how I ended up here... with you."

She opened her eyes again, meeting his gaze, searching for any sign of judgment, but all she saw was concern. "I don't want to forget... but it's hard," she admitted, her voice cracking just slightly.

Sera sat quietly, her eyes fixed on their hands, the heat of his touch grounding her in the moment, even as the storm of memories and emotions raged within her. She could feel the weight of everything—the destruction she had wrought, the blood spilled, and the emptiness that never seemed to fade. It was suffocating, but she'd long ago learned to live with the suffocation. To keep moving forward, even when her soul felt like it was crumbling beneath the weight of her own actions.

His voice, soft and patient, cut through her internal turmoil. "Is there anything I can get you?"

Her lips pressed together as she took in a breath, steadying herself. She was so used to being alone with her thoughts, to being the one who handled everything without needing help. It was the only way she'd ever survived. Asking for comfort, for anything, was a vulnerability she couldn't afford—no, that she refused to afford.

"I don’t know," she answered, her voice barely above a whisper. She could feel his gaze on her, but she didn't meet it, instead looking away toward the window, where the light of the setting sun painted the room with hues of gold and red. The fire—her fire—would have been beautiful like this, if it hadn't been stained by too many memories. Too much destruction. "I don’t remember much... but... maybe just stay for a while?"

The words came out before she could stop them, and for a moment, Sera almost regretted them. She was not one to ask for comfort. Not one to lean on anyone. But Finn was different. He saw through the walls she had built, saw beyond the ruthless soldier who obeyed orders without hesitation, the warrior who had burned villages to the ground without blinking.

Her breath caught as a memory flashed unbidden through her mind—a field of smoke and ash, a battlefield drenched in fire. Her heart sank, the guilt nearly choking her. She squeezed Finn's hand, pulling herself from the dark spiral of thought before it could pull her under.

"I'm sorry," she muttered, her voice low and hoarse. "I just..." The words seemed so small, so useless against the weight of her guilt, but she pressed on. "I can't remember everything... but I don’t want to be alone right now."

Sera turned her gaze to him then, though her expression remained stoic, the usual hardness in her eyes softened by something she wasn’t ready to name. It was fleeting, that moment of vulnerability, but it was enough for her to let him in—for now.

Jora felt a pang of unease watching Finn so close to Sera. He seemed so patient, so understanding of her shifting moods. It wasn’t that she didn’t understand the pull—Sera could be impossible to resist when she wasn’t lost in her head. But it was hard to ignore how quickly Finn had slipped into her orbit.

Jora couldn’t quite explain it, but something about his attention, his fascination with Sera’s moods, unsettled her. She had always been protective of her friend, but now… now it was different. Finn seemed to see Sera’s vulnerability as some kind of puzzle to be solved, rather than something to be handled with care.

Jora couldn’t help but feel a knot tighten in her chest. Something about this whole dynamic felt fragile, like it could break at any moment. And Finn, with his easygoing smile and quiet curiosity, was just the type to make everything more complicated.

Sera’s mind was still clouded, a mix of fatigue and the lingering effects of the medication. The shrill alarm tore through the disorienting haze, sending her heart into overdrive. The panic outside was palpable—shouts, hurried footsteps, chaos. Then, the door to the infirmary was thrown open, and a nurse’s voice rang out, cutting through the noise: "We're under attack!!"

Her pulse quickened, but her body, still weak from the injuries she’d sustained, didn’t respond the way she wanted. Finn appeared beside her, his hands steady as he worked quickly to secure the IV that was feeding the fluids and blood she needed to stay conscious. His touch was gentle, but the urgency in his movements was impossible to ignore.

"I need you to hold onto me, okay?" His voice was calm, though there was a tension in his eyes. "I know you're going to want to walk on your own, but you're still too weak right now. Your body won’t support you all the way to the jump point. Can you hold onto me?"

Her mind screamed at her to move, to get up and fight—her instincts, honed over years of battle, told her that running was the only way to survive. But she could barely lift her head, let alone stand. Sera nodded weakly, her hand clinging to the IV line as she slowly wrapped her arms around Finn, trusting him to carry her. There was no strength left in her to argue. She felt the warmth of his body against hers as he lifted her effortlessly, his arms firm and protective. She wrapped her legs around him, holding onto the IV as he adjusted it securely between them.

"Hold on tight," Finn said, his voice low, before he started jogging toward the jump point.

The infirmary tent was a blur as they passed it, and the chaos outside only intensified. Nurses and injured soldiers were hustling toward the jump point—some walking, some carried by those strong enough to help. It felt like an endless sea of people, all desperate to escape the threat that loomed over them.

Ahead, Sera saw the green glow—the jump triplets. Their aura pulsed with energy, marking the only safe escape route. Marcus stood at the center, his eyes closed in concentration as his powers rippled through the air. His green glow flared brighter with each person he teleported to safety.

Finn and Sera moved toward him. Finn placed a hand on Marcus’ glowing shoulder, and in an instant, the ground seemed to fall away beneath them. Sera’s stomach lurched, a familiar weightlessness overtaking her, but she kept her grip tight, trying not to lose herself to the vertigo.

When her feet finally touched solid ground again, Sera blinked, her body disoriented from the sudden shift. She steadied herself, leaning into Finn for a moment longer, her breath shallow. The world had changed in a blink, and for the first time since the chaos began, there was a brief sense of calm.

They weren’t at the camp anymore. The sounds of battle had disappeared, replaced by the eerie quiet of their new location. But it wouldn’t last long.

The triplets continued their work, each of them glowing with green energy, helping people materialize in the safety of the new area. The weight of the situation pressed in on Sera—the feeling of unease, the anxiety creeping up her spine. The battle wasn’t over, just pushed to a new place. And she wasn’t sure how much time they had before the next wave of danger arrived.

Sera stood still for a moment, breathing deeply, trying to regain her bearings. Her fire-wielding powers were still there, buried beneath the surface, but they felt distant, as if they weren’t hers to command anymore. The emotional weight of everything—the destruction she had caused, the war she had been forced to fight—was always there, lurking in the back of her mind. It was hard to shake off, especially now when she could barely focus on the present.

Despite the exhaustion, despite everything, Sera couldn't let herself slip. Not now. She had to protect the others, had to stay strong. She wasn't going to let this be her end. Not like this.

Sera blinked a few times, her vision still blurry from the jump. The world felt like it was spinning, but the cool shade of the tree helped ground her just enough to take a deep breath. She could feel the steady pressure of Finn’s presence beside her, always careful, always steady, like a rock in the chaos.

Her lips parted slightly as she saw the orange juice in front of her, the tangy scent cutting through the lingering fog in her mind. She was thirsty—so thirsty—but the thought of drinking made her stomach turn. She hesitated, her fingers trembling as she reached for the cup, her grip weak.

She met Finn’s gaze, and for a moment, the world seemed to settle just a bit. His expression was soft, patient, not rushing her, just waiting. She didn’t want to be a burden, didn’t want to make him do more than he already had. He’d carried her, taken care of her, and now he was asking her to drink something so simple, something she could do on her own.

Her hand closed around the cup, and she lifted it to her lips, but it felt heavy in her grasp, almost like it didn’t belong there. Her breath hitched, the sensation of trying to do something normal after the disorienting jump making her head spin again.

But she didn’t want to disappoint him. So, she tipped the cup slowly, the cold liquid spilling into her mouth, the bitterness of exhaustion and nausea mixing with the sweetness of the juice. She swallowed, forcing herself to keep it down. It wasn’t much—just a small sip—but it was enough to make her chest tighten with relief.

"I’m… I’m drinking it," she whispered, almost too quietly. Her voice felt weak, but she wanted him to know she was trying, that she wasn’t giving up. Even if it felt hard.