As soon as the hole in the ice was big enough to fit through, Soledad hopped in; she immediately crouched and covered her face to protect herself from the heat.

“Be careful,” Adela quietly called.

Soledad waved her off. “I'll try not to scare her this time.”

“No, I’m… worried for you.”

Glancing over her shoulder, she sent both girls a confident smile. “I’ll be fine,” she said.

She turned and crept forward towards the flames. Not for the first time, she found herself grateful to have been raised in a family as chaotic and tough as hers; over the years, she’d been exposed to so many different kinds of pain. From the slice of a blade to the blunt force of a chair, all the way down to one too many invasive doctor's visits and treatments. This wouldn’t be her first time making contact with fire, and somehow, she doubted it would be her last. Not ideal, but at least she knew what she was getting into.

Soledad reached a hand out, looking to test the heat before stepping in…

…and watched the flames jump away from her.

She blinked.

Standing up taller, she dared to put her whole arm in, only to find the same results. She glanced back at Chika and Adela, but they were too far away to see what was happening. They simply stared at her, as if they were thinking, what are you doing? Get a move on!

So she did.

She dropped her arms and marched into the fire, watching it part like the tides with every step she took. As soon as she was deep enough in, she felt the heat on her wings, and she tucked them closer to her body; looking back, the entrance had closed up again. She was completely surrounded by fire, and yet, she remained unharmed.

It was hard to hear over the vortex, but nearby, Soledad heard a sob turn into a retch. She whirled back around and hurried towards it, no longer worried of being injured or burned. All that mattered was Terra, finding her, helping her—

The fire parted.

Soledad stumbled over herself to get to the crying girl, dropping to her knees so hard she knew she’d have bruises by tomorrow, and pulled her into the strongest, tightest hug she could manage.

A blast of wind nearly knocked her away, and it definitely sent the fire and water for a ride, but Soledad held on tight. Terra’s hands rose to grip at her arms; the lightning crawled onto her bare skin, and it felt like she was getting zapped with dry winter static all over. Squeezing her eyes shut, she held Terra closer, pressing her back into her chest.

“Breathe, Terra,” she ordered as calmly as she could muster. “You’re going to make yourself sick.”

She gagged again, and Soledad leaned them forward, just in case. Luckily, nothing came up. She moved a hand up to Terra’s chest, just beneath her collar bone, and began to exaggerate her own breathing.

“Come on, T-cup. Breathe with me. I know you can do this. In… Out… In…”

It took a few tries, but eventually, Terra started shakily following along. Her wails turned into sobs, turned into sniffles. Gradually, the hurricane of elements receded as well. Soon, all that remained of the fire was a ring of glass in the sand, and the melting orb of ice dripped straight onto their heads.

Footsteps approached. Soledad turned to watch Chika and Adela kneel on the sand in front of them.

They sat in silence for a long time.

“I’m sorry,” Terra croaked out.

Soledad held her closer. “Don’t you dare.”

She shuddered and shook her head. “I lost control, I could have hurt—”

“You didn’t,” Adela interrupted. “Everyone is physically fine. That’s what matters.”

“But—”

“No buts,” Chika said.

Terra closed her mouth and sagged, leaning all of her weight back into Soledad. Her eyes drooped, but she fought to keep them open. She couldn’t just pass out after putting everyone through that. It would be rude, and disrespectful, and—

Chika put a hand on her knee. “You’re not a monster.”

She squeezed her eyes shut.

“No, don’t do that. Don’t hide.” Chika put a hand under her chin and lifted it. “Listen. Whatever those people at home said to you to make you believe that, they’re wrong. I know we don’t know you know you yet, but I don’t think you have a mean bone in your body.”

“I yelled at you,” Terra argued.

“You were distressed,” Adela said back.

“But I still shouldn’t have—”

“It’s forgiven,” Soledad interrupted.

Tears welled up in her eyes again. She hadn’t thought she had any left. “How can you just… do that? Why aren’t you more mad? I-I deserve it.”

“Because you’re clearly hurting. And we were the ones who needed to be told off,” Soledad replied. She readjusted her hold and rested her chin on Terra’s shoulder. “And we like you. Love you. Want you on our team.”

“So badly.”

Adela hummed in agreement.

Terra choked on a sob, but this one wasn’t out of grief or despair. “You… You want me?”

“Yes. Yes.”

Soledad pulled away and turned her so she could look deep into her eyes. She struggled to keep her own tears at bay.

“We want you here, Terra. We love you, and how you make our days brighter, and how much of an effort you’ve been making to make us better. You are precious and we wouldn’t be the same without you.”

She sucked in a shuddering sob. “You mean that?” she whimpered. “You’re not lying to me?”

A couple of tears dripped down Soledad’s face. “I will never lie to you. I’ve never meant anything more fiercely in my entire life.”

Terra surged forward and cling to her, shaking so violently that Soledad wondered if the others would hear it if she spoke. Instead of testing it, though, she squeezed her back as tight as she could without hurting her. Her eyes flicked up in time to watch Chika and Adela inch forward; soon, Team Prevail was all clutching onto each other in the middle of the sparring fields.

There was a shifting, and they looked down to see the sand moving, forming a low wall that separated them from the rest of the world. By their legs, grass and yellow orchids started to grow.

“Thank you,” Terra whispered.