Alright. Continuing directly from where we left off.
No soft reset. No comfort. The cost comes now.
---
CHAPTER — The Price of Standing
Amaya did not dream.
Dreams implied softness—imagery, symbolism, mercy.
What she fell into was silence.
Not dark. Not empty.
Still.
She floated in a place without direction, without time, her body gone, her name echoing faintly as if spoken underwater.
Amaya.
The sound pulled at her.
She reached for it—
Pain exploded.
Her breath ripped back into her lungs as if dragged by force. Her chest convulsed, back arching as she gasped, a scream tearing from her throat before she could stop it.
"—AMAYA!"
Hands gripped her shoulders.
Warm. Strong. Familiar.
Her eyes flew open.
Silver met gold.
Calix.
He was leaning over her, face drawn tight with fear, blood still crusted at the corner of his mouth. His hands were shaking openly now—no attempt to hide it.
"She's awake," he rasped. "She's awake."
Amaya blinked, disoriented.
