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The battle had been going on for far too long. You knew that. Zayne knew that. The protofield was growing dangerously unstable. New waves of wanderers seemingly never ended. Even still, you refused to give up. After what must’ve been weeks of begging, Jenna had finally authorized this mission in the no-hunt zone. You swore you were strong enough for this—knew you were.
But reality ended up being different from what you thought. You were pushing yourself too hard. Trying to ignore the ache in your chest that appeared minutes ago, the increasing weight of your limbs. It was as if gravity itself suddenly became twice as strong, all just to slow you down.
Zayne noticed. He didn’t stray far from your side, his warnings to be careful quickly turning to suggestions to retreat. You stopped warranting them with a response. There was only one wanderer left, and you’d be damned if you were to give up now.
“Let’s end this,” Zayne said, his voice heavy with exhaustion, edged by reluctant obedience.
You knew he was pissed. That you’d get an earful once this was over.
His open hand appeared beside you, fingers splayed in invitation. “Resonate with me.”
You took his hand without question, letting him guide your arms to aim for the wanderer before you both. That familiar chill slipped between the warmth of your palms, begging to be amplified. You took a breath, pooling your energy and focus into the frost, giving it your strength.
Only—
The attempt clamped a vice around your heart, tightening with every hurried beat. You gasped and grit your teeth, already widening your stance to try again.
Zayne’s fingers twitched, his gaze shooting over to you, confused. His eyes widened at the realization of what was happening.
“Wait, DON’T!”
You tightened your grip on Zayne’s hand before he could sever the connection. There was no time to wait. It was now or never.
Power surged out of you. The wintergreen glow expanded and shined brilliantly, bolstered by your Evol. Zayne’s voice boomed with demands for you to stop, but the pulse rushing in your ears drowned it out.
A dark vignette bordered your vision, thickening the more you pushed. Sounds dulled as it grew. The clenching in your chest never let up, unrelenting. Despite it all, you kept pushing. Until suddenly, the glow flickered.
It gave out. Vanished into noting.
You sucked in a strangled breath, your body suddenly too heavy for your legs to support.
Distantly, you heard Zayne yell your name. Felt his hand tighten around yours, yanking your limp body into his arms before everything went numb. The world became dark and muffled, the crushing agony within your ribcage the only clear sensation left.
Knuckles harshly rubbed against your chest, bringing you back into a hazy reality. You were horizontal now, lying against the hard dirt.
“Come on, look at me. Open your eyes,” Zayne urged, his voice tight. He rubbed his clenched fist against your sternum again, digging in harder this time.
You groaned weakly, opening your eyes to the dark, tree-covered sky and Zayne hovering above. The cool air about him was gone, his expression twisted in ways you’d never seen before. Raw. Almost frantic. Sweat slipped down his temples, dripping off the point of his chin. He was clearly on the brink of exhaustion, too. His eyes were pouring into you, flickering just slightly when you met his gaze.
A sharp breath came out of him—a fraction of a release before urgency took back over. “Talk to me. Are you injured?”
You tried to answer him, but your tongue refused to cooperate, heavy in your mouth. You shook your head instead, barely able to manage the movement.
Zayne hurriedly pressed two fingers to the side of your neck, his touch trembling just slightly. “You collapsed after trying to resonate,” he explained, jogging your foggy memory.
Finally it hit you. The battle. The wanderers—
You tried sitting up, only to be stopped by a firm hand on your shoulder.
“Don’t try to move yet. We’re out of danger, the wanderers are gone. Just focus on me if you can.”
Bright red splotches on his shirt caught your eye. New wounds. Ones that weren’t there before you collapsed. Your gaze travelled back to his sweat-drenched face, his exhaustion making so much sense now. He had to fight the final wanderer alone, all while you were unconscious on the ground. Just how long were you out for?
Zayne’s fingers dug a little harder into the thrumming pulse on your neck.
“Your heart—” He cut himself off. Cursed under his breath. The furrow in his brows deepened at whatever he felt. His hands moved to either side of your face, a foreign desperation in his grip. “I need to carry you out of here, alright?”
Without a moment to spare, he drew you into his arms and off the ground in one fluid motion. His strides were long and hurried, his grip around you tight yet careful, as if you’d break apart if he let go.
He fished a communicator out of his pocket, readjusting his grip on you to hold it up to his mouth. Information flew out of him, too concise for you to understand—an urgent request for med evac from whatever point he was taking you, a slew of medical terms that went over your head.
Relief poured out in a deep sigh when the communicator crackled back—his transmission received even in the thick of the no-hunt zone. Seeing him ease, you let go just a little. Let your eyes sag, your breathing slow.
“No, no— hey,” Zayne snapped, the undercurrent of poorly suppressed distress back in his voice. “Don’t fall asleep. I know it’s hard, but we’re almost there. I need you to hang on a little longer.”
You followed his instruction as best you could. Fought the spots that tried to overtake your view of him. Watched his gaze flip between where he was going to your face. Felt his pace pick up every time he’d look down at you. For as long as you possibly could, you tried. But the ache in your chest never let up.
Fatigue pulled you down, already rooted deep in your marrow. You sank in Zayne’s arms, too far gone to understand his crescendoing pleas for you to stay awake.
The last thing you noticed were bright lights in the distance. The edge of the no-hunt zone.
Zayne shouted to someone faraway. Broke out into a sprint. Then everything went black.
You already knew where you were before you opened your eyes. A steady, faint beeping kept time nearby while muffled chatter and the soft thud of doors opening and closing filtered through the walls. The ache in your chest had dulled. You still felt heavy, but present. Consciousness wasn’t hard-fought now; it came naturally, piece by piece.
A clipped, heavy breath broke the rhythm of the soundscape, pulling you the rest of the way from your haze. Your eyes fluttered open to find Zayne in a restless sleep, his upper half sprawled across the mattress, torso slumped forward from the chair he’d pulled close, as if he’d drifted off mid-watch. His hand covered yours, fingers curled around it in a warm, protective hold. Even in sleep, he hadn’t let go.
You gently stirred under the blankets, the small movement enough for Zayne to snap awake. He was sitting up in an instant—eyes wide, shooting to the monitor beside your bed, hand pulling back instinctively, as if bracing for the worst. Clarity quickly returned, easing his gaze that warmed even further when it fell to you.
He spoke your name slowly and softly, as if savoring the chance to say it again.
Professionalism quickly took over. Zayne was all business now, checking you over with his usual mask of practiced neutrality—pressing a button that inflated the cuff on your arm, sliding the cool metal of his stethoscope along different parts of your chest. It wasn’t until now that you realized that he’d changed at some point, swapping his blood-stained clothes for the extra pair of scrubs he kept in his office. You could only hope that he’d taken care of his own injuries, but you weren’t exactly in a position to question him on the matter.
He looped the stethoscope around his neck and sank back into the chair. “Severe Evol exhaustion,” he said, answering before you even had the chance to ask—straight to the point. “Not exactly something you should be pushing through, especially given the condition of your heart.”
Zayne caught himself. Exhaled. Smoothed the crease between his brows.
“You’re stable now. With proper rest, you should make a full recovery. I’ve already contacted the Association. You’re on mandatory medical leave until I deem you ready to return.”
You opened your mouth to protest, only to be interrupted mid-breath.
“I will continue overseeing your care once you leave the hospital.” The corners of his mouth turned up a fraction of a degree in what was his version of a playful smile. “Ensure you actually adhere to the bedrest I’ve prescribed you.”
You couldn’t hide your own smile at his insistence. This was Zayne’s way of caring—and probably the only way he could calm his own nerves after what happened.
“One more thing.”
Warmth enveloped your hand from both sides as Zayne tenderly turned it over to rest face-up on the blankets. He lifted his palm a few inches from yours, and the crisp coolness of a winter breeze softly blew against your skin.
“Try again,” he encouraged, almost whispering, “gently.”
A single, delicate snowflake appeared in the space between your hands, leisurely drifting down towards your palm.
You took a deep breath. Honed your focus. The pace of the beeping sped up just enough to announce your attempt. Zayne waited patiently, his watchful eyes shifting between the monitor, the snowflake, and you.
For such a small request, the effort was substantial. Under Zayne’s supervision, you carried on, until finally, the snowflake began to grow. It sagged into your palm, weighed down by its increasing mass. Matte white turned to a brilliant, glass-like clarity, its six sides hardening into petals of a crystalline ice flower, reflecting light from every angle.
The cold weight that was pressed into your hand dragged out a sigh from you both. Zayne’s features smoothed, his relief at the creation plain to see. His hands returned to yours, folding your fingers around the ice that would never melt. He pulled your closed hand close to him, greeting the back of your hand with a soft press of his lips.
A puff of air from his nose grazed your skin, the warmth highlighting the coldness within your grasp.
He closed his eyes and whispered, his gentle plea heavy with vulnerability he rarely allowed himself to show.
“Don’t ever leave me again.”