Chapter Text
The world had gone silent.
The chaos, the screaming, the deafening blasts that had shaken the bridge faded into the background, drowned out by the sharp ringing in Vi’s ears. She couldn’t hear Powder’s sobs or process the weight of Vander’s strong hands gripping her shoulders. All she could see were their bodies.
Her parents.
Their lifeless eyes stared up at the smoke-clogged sky, their bodies crumpled in ways that weren’t natural. Her mother’s hand was stretched toward her, frozen mid-reach, as if in those last moments she had still been trying to protect Violet and Powder. The scent of iron and smoke mixed in the air, suffocating her, choking her.
Her knees hit the bridge, scraping against the rough stone, but she barely felt it over the hollow ache that had settled deep inside her chest.
“No—” Her voice cracked, barely more than a strangled breath. “No, no, no, please—”
She reached for her mother’s hand, fingers trembling, but the moment her skin touched cold flesh, the truth set in like a knife to her gut. They were gone, and something inside her shattered.
The sob tore out of her before she could stop it, a raw, broken sound that echoed across the ruined bridge. Tears blurred her vision, streaking down her dirt-streaked face as she gasped for air that wouldn’t come. The pain inside her chest was unbearable, suffocating, as if her heart had been ripped out and crushed right in front of her.
And miles away, in the pristine halls of House Kiramman, Caitlyn Kiramman curled up in her bed, clutching her chest as she gasped in sudden overwhelming pain.
She didn’t know why.
Tears burned her eyes as she clutched at the fabric of her nightgown, her breathing ragged. A deep, unbearable grief crashed over her like a tidal wave, and it wasn’t hers. It couldn’t be. Nothing had happened to her, nothing had changed, yet she felt as though something had been ripped away from her, something she had never even known she had.
Her hands trembled. She pressed them to her heart, trying to make sense of the crushing sorrow that had seized her, but the pain only deepened.
Back on the bridge, Vander’s grip tightened on Vi’s shoulders, pulling her back, but she fought him, reaching for her mother again.
“Vi, we have to go.” His voice was rough, pained. “Now.”
She didn’t move. She couldn’t.
“They’re gone, Vi,” he said, softer this time, as if the words themselves pained him. “Come on, kid—Powder needs you.”
Powder.
Vi blinked through the tears, turning just enough to see her sister sobbing, trembling as she clung to Vander’s side.
They had to leave. She knew that. If they stayed, they’d die too. But—
She clenched her jaw, forcing herself to breathe, to stand on shaking legs. Her fingers curled into fists, nails digging into her palms so hard they might break skin.
Vander kept a firm grip on her, guiding her away, but Vi turned for one last look at her parents before they disappeared into the smoke and rubble.
A piece of her had been left behind on that bridge.
And miles away, Caitlyn Kiramman lay awake, staring at the ceiling, as a sadness she didn’t understand refused to let her go.
The smoke had thickened, stinging Vi’s eyes as Vander dragged her forward, but she barely felt it. The world around her was muted—distant screams, the echo of gunfire, the rumble of collapsing buildings. It all blurred together, like a nightmare she couldn’t wake from.
Powder’s sobs barely registered at first, muffled by the roaring emptiness inside her chest. But when Vander crouched to lift her, her little arms latching around his neck in desperation, something inside Vi snapped back into place.
Powder.
She wasn’t alone.
Vi blinked hard, forcing herself to focus. Her hands still trembled at her sides, fists clenching and unclenching as she tried to force air into her lungs. She turned her head, her eyes locking on Powder’s tiny, trembling frame.
“I got you,” Vander murmured, holding Powder close as he straightened. His gaze flicked to Vi, heavy with the weight of loss, of exhaustion, of understanding.
She swallowed against the lump in her throat, forcing herself to nod. It was a lie. She wasn’t okay. She might never be okay again. But she had to move.
She forced one foot in front of the other, stumbling at first, but Vander was there, guiding them away from the bridge, deeper into the Undercity.
Her fingers twitched at her sides, aching for something—anything—to ground her. A habit she didn’t understand took over, and before she realized what she was doing, she reached up and pinched her arm. Just lightly, just enough to feel something real.
And somewhere, far away, Caitlyn Kiramman, still lying awake in her bed, reached for her arm and pinched the same spot, mirroring the gesture without knowing why.
A part of her had no idea why she was doing it. It was something she had done for as long as she could remember—whenever she felt lonely, whenever something in her heart ached too much. A quiet reassurance that there was someone out there, that she wasn’t completely alone.
Tonight, the pain that wasn’t hers still sat heavy in her chest. It hadn’t faded.
She squeezed her arm again, inhaling sharply as a single tear slid down her cheek.
It was the first time she had ever felt someone else’s grief so completely.
And it wouldn’t be the last.