Kristo’s grip was iron around her wrist. He had dragged her behind him, eyes locked on the goddess ahead. His hand was too cold, his grip too tight. Their family screamed. Her mom called his name, begging. Choose me.

“The woman wants me! They’re hurting them! Dad, let go. Please!”

But Kristo didn’t let her go. Instead, his hand started shaking. And that just made it worse — now her whole body was shaking too. As she looked into his pleading eyes, her innate confidence shattered. If she knew one thing, it was that Kristo always knew what to do. But maybe that was because, back then, things were simpler. When she was very young, the neighbors tried to run them out of town for looking different. He had laughed and brought them home-baked bread instead of unleashing fury. She remembered his laughter as they opened the door. His kindness and easygoing forgiveness was the key to winning over everyone — everything! Now he was integral to their small community. But it was clear those problems were over. Those days are over!

She knew she couldn’t stay behind him. Not this time. Not with her mom screaming.

“Dad,” Amy said again, quieter now. “Let go.”

She remembered being seven, lost in the sea after swimming too far. The ocean roared as she cried for him. His steady hands pulled her above the waves. He carried her steadily as he swam, his motions strong. The fear had melted off her, replaced by warm relief. “Shh, you’re okay,” he had said. “Just stay with me. Always with me.”

Now, it was his hands that were trembling.

You wanted me to be brave. I’m all grown up, dad. The days of protecting me are over. Now I’ll do anything to protect you.

But despite her demands, he still didn’t let go. She knew he couldn’t.

So she did it herself.

She twisted hard, pain flaring up her arm as she tore free. He screamed her name as his fingers slipped.

“Go to them!” she screamed back, just before he reached for her again. But she had anticipated this and stepped back. His hands flew forward desperately, and missed.

She saw her five-year-old brother—the one Kristo had placed in her arms the day he was born. His fingers had barely wrapped around one of hers. Her father had looked so proud. She’d smiled softly and promised to protect him. Forever.

He was screaming, his eyes full of hot tears now.

“Amy, no!”

The woman grabbed her. “Go, dad.” Amy smelled her sickly-sweet perfume. Then came the cool and soft hands that cupped her neck. Samantha’s fingertips dug into her arms, pulling her back against her body.

“Good girl,” the woman purred into her ear.

“Amy!” Then he looked at Samantha, mouth hopelessly open. “Don’t make me choose.”

Kristo lunged, but his wife behind screamed. Samantha’s eyes widened with glee, a high shrill escaping her lips as she snapped her fingers. She gave a curt nod toward her soldiers. They smiled, tightening their grips on the woman and children as Amy turned.

And —

Fire bloomed. Her mother and brothers’ screams turned bloodcurdling. Flames intensified around them. Her mom clawed at the air. One of the boys fell and rolled, screaming as his clothes caught on fire.

And, too, Amy’s breath caught.

“Dad!” she cried, forcing the words through the terror choking her. “Go to them! Save them!”

Kristo’s eyes found hers. They were wide and panicked. His son’s scream cut through the smoke. He wavered, torn in two. Then, with a sharp breath in, he turned and ran.

Amy nodded, swallowing hard. Good.

In turn, her world shattered.

An intrusive thought slapped her. The sun casting the beach orange when she was a child. Walking hand-in-hand with Kristo. He had brought her here because she loved to explore the sea. Snorkeling to see the animals. Collecting shells. The awkward moment he met her mother at a bakery. The flush of his cheek and the soft smile of the woman as she left, the door closing with a click. “Go to her,” Amy used to tease. “Before it’s too late. Dad. Go.” Clapping at their wedding. Cheering. The promise of daddy-daughter dates, when Kristo’s boss at the bakery allowed.

She swallowed again, watching as he hurled himself toward the danger, arms outstretched, voice raw. Their family was bleeding.

And that was all Samantha needed.

She smirked. “Patheeeeeetic,” she sang, signaling cuckoo with her finger, eyes slightly crossed.

Amy barely had time to turn before the sick goddess’ cool hands clamped her shoulder and arm. Her fingers felt sickeningly like silk, but her grip like steel. Samantha dragged her into the shadows, ignoring Amy’s screams. Her grip wasn’t gentle. Her pretty fingers bruised.

Amy fought—she kicked and twisted—but it was like being yanked across ice, her heels scraping uselessly. They weaved through the burning stalls of Sunji’s market. People ran from Samantha’s path, but their eyes glued to the fire. To the existence of magic. Behind them, Amy heard Kristo roar—her family’s screams drowned in the clash of Kristo and the soldiers. But there was one scream that was laced with the type of grief that never recovers.

Her mom and brothers were dead.

Amy’s heart dropped to the pit of her stomach. She immediately dropped her weight, going limp in sudden surrender. It slowed Samantha for a second, maybe less. Her feet scraped the ground. Samantha huffed and lifted her.

When she was small, her father used to carry her like this, humming that awful sea shanty. This wasn’t that.

No, please. Kristo, this is just a dream. Please…please…

“No!” She heard his broken plea despite the distance between them. She knew what must have happened. And… the shock and hesitation inside her snapped.

Amy thrashed. “Let go!” she screamed, kicking wildly. She bit down hard— but Samantha’s skin didn’t give. What she bit down on wasn’t flesh. It felt like biting rubber stretched over bone.

Tears blurred her vision. She clawed, bit again, screamed.

Samantha didn’t flinch — she hummed. Then, with terrifying ease, she flung Amy to the ground.

“What a mess,” she said. Amy searched for any sign of humanity in her eyes. Found none.

Fire flickered behind her. She felt the heat before looking up.

Kristo stood just yards away, chest heaving. He looked like he had aged, not just from exertion, but from grief. His face shattered the way only a parent’s could. My brothers… Mom…

She understood.

The woman’s nails sank into Amy’s shoulder. Her eyes gleamed with delight.

“Try not to die too fast, love. She’s going to need someone to blame.”

“Shut up—” Amy twisted—“Nobody’s going to die!”

But Samantha’s grip punished, her nails digging deeper, clean through fabric and into Amy’s flesh.

They stood at the edge of a cliff. A ship waited behind them.

Kristo saw it. He took a breath, stepped forward, and fired. As he exhaled, blaze erupted from his palms, tearing through the ship’s hull like paper.

Samantha shoved Amy to the ground. She wasn’t the main focus anymore. Amy slammed down hard, rocks cutting her palms.

“You bitch,” Samantha spat.

Amy pushed back up and saw a man — his skin pale as moonlight — sprinting toward them! But she didn’t care. Her head snapped to Kristo, and she ran — straight into Samantha’s grimy hand.

“Oops!” Pain seared her forehead and cheeks. She saw light that burned and screamed. Kristo roared. Samantha flung Amy away like trash again. She landed near the cliff’s edge, body skidding across the rocks.

Then, smirking, Samantha summoned chains of light that crackled in the air. They were, ironically, impossibly bright, heartbreakingly beautiful.

Amy dragged herself up, charging again. But this time, Kristo stopped her. He flung her away from the cliff, causing her to tumble down the hill. Stones tore her skin. Blood smeared her hands. He once tossed her into the ocean so she’d learn to swim. “You won’t drown,” he once promised. “I’m right here.”

But this time, she hit the rocks. There was no water.

And he wasn’t there.

“Dad,” she choked. Her voice broke on bile and sobs.

She rolled—and hit something solid. A man’s boots. Cold hands grabbed her before she could scream.

And above, fire roared. The light chains lashed like lightning. Every flash of red revealed Kristo still standing, fighting, but most importantly, alive.

Amy stumbled forward, but a hand grabbed her arm.

“Ah ah ah,” the man said.

She screamed, fighting for freedom. But he lifted her like she weighed nothing—and carried her toward the ship.

“Let go! Let go! Please!” Amy begged, eyes glued to the top of the hill. She saw flashes of light — flashes of red. Please. Then a crack of blinding light split the sky. Then a boom louder than thunder, heavy enough to shake the earth. The sea vibrated. The ship rocked.

And Kristo’s fires died.

She was shoved down the stairs. Her body hit hard. Her ribs should’ve broken. Her chin hit the ground. She tried to rise. A foot slammed her back down. The door shut. It was cold.

She had always felt things she was too young to know. And nobody believed it. It was as if she could read her classmates’ thoughts. She always knew who needed cheering up. She noticed her mother stopped hugging her after the baby came. She used to stare too long when Amy laughed with Kristo. Like Amy had stolen something. Five years ago, she had felt her dog die while she was at school.

Now, she envisioned a red thread being cut.

Kristo’s dead.

She could almost hear his voice when she thought she’d drown. “I’m right here.” But he wasn’t. She heard his voice: “Always.”

Please.

She knew it the way you know a thread is gone—only after it slips from your fingers. Only when it’s too late. And then, she remembered that sick perfume. The sharp nails that dug mercilessly into her shoulders. The chains of light that had brutalized her father. The fires that died.

She didn’t cry anymore, just felt the moment. Her mother had once scoffed “you’re too young to know anything.” But Amy believed completely in her uncanny abilities. Her father was dead. She knew completely, in the way birds knew where to fly. There were no more tears left to cry. Just thoughts of Samantha, the locked door, and the rocking of the ship.

And she thought of her dad. All my life, all I wanted to do…