Hour later, Amy lay on a narrow cot, the cottage walls pressing close. Her mother lay by the other wall under blankets. The fire crackled faintly, but it didn’t warm her icy skin. She pressed her palms to her eyes, but couldn’t stop Aurora’s intrusive memories.

She heard Aurora’s screams. The laughter of boys. The dark courtyard where…

Suddenly, Amy’s problems felt small. She was horrified of what she saw. Mom… She shuddered. I had no idea.

She felt a pang of empathy. As if to save her from distress, she thought of the second memory. Of a younger Kristo. But it did little to comfort her after knowing what had happened to Aurora the first time around.

“Kristo…” she whispered. But Aurora’s pain diluted even her need to hear his voice and see his face. Again.

Sleep, child. For the journey ahead, you will need energy. Thomas had said.

But he had lied. Because when sleep came, it wasn’t rest.
***
Again, she plunged into the abyss. Cold swallowed her, heavy and suffocating, until she could barely breathe. She felt numb as she swam forward. Then his shape came into focus.

Milo’s back faced her.

Her chest squeezed, but this time, it wasn’t with fear but anger. After what she’d just seen, after Aurora’s memories, she could no longer keep quiet.

“She never slept without flinching. Did you know that?” she shot venomously.

Milo didn’t answer.

“She couldn’t breathe in the dark, dad. She lived with ghosts and you knew. Was that the strength you wanted?”

The abyss pressed closer, closing in on the two. She knew Milo well enough to expect cruelty. He didn’t disappoint.

“A person who flinches and keeps walking is stronger than one who sleeps soundly,” he muttered. But when he spoke, there was no fight in his voice.

“You think that makes you strong?” she shot back, her throat burning. “No. It makes you a coward, dad. Where were you when she needed you? Why didn’t you do anything?”

His jaw clenched, and for a moment his voice wasn’t sharp but frayed. “I didn’t know.”

“Didn’t know what?”

His gaze darkened, looking away.

He wasn’t there when she needed help the most.

Her fist loosened as Amy realized why Aurora was the way she was. Aurora was broken. It didn’t excuse her bad behavior, but now she understood.

Then Milo, spoke. “Do you think I wanted to be gone? I’ve watched her die for me. Four times.” He hesitated, gaze flicking away. “Do you understand what that does to a man? To know she’d throw herself into the fire again and again if I let her lean on me?”

He turned away, as if the admission cost him. When he spoke again, the steel returned.

“That’s why I stayed absent. If I’d been there, she would have clung to me, and she’d have died a fifth time. I needed her to stand untouchable, even if it meant hating me.”

“That’s not an excuse. You’re…still terrible too.” Her breath caught. Frost hissed from her skin. She needed Kristo, but he was gone. And she felt angry. “And me? If I scream, would you leave me too?”

Milo’s expression turned heavier. “If you scream… then yes. Because even you, Amy—especially you—must make your choices without me. That’s the only way you’ll find your own voice, stand on your own two feet.”

Her knees wobbled, but she forced them straight. “I’m not you. I’d rather break than become you.”

A shadow of a smile curved his lips. “Good. Then don’t become me. You think I want that? I’ve had enough of myself. Show me something else.”

“So I’m just another test, then? Another scream you’ll ignore until I learn the right lesson?”

“…If you want to call it a test, then pass it. Prove you’re not her echo.”

The abyss pulsed. Milo’s mouth opened as if to deliver a verdict, but the void wrenched her sideways.

Before she returned to the land of the living, she knew one thing: nobody was coming to save her. And that was good. Because she wasn’t him—she would stand, even if she broke.

And that — was strength.

She had her dark magic. She had determination. She had energy.
—————————
Amy woke with a cry. Frost spread across her arms, her breath ragged.

“Milo!”

Karl’s face hovered inches from hers, disapproval etched on his face. Julius’ hands shook her shoulders.

“Amy, wake up! Get out of it!”

Her eyes blurred with tears. She shoved him away, heart hammering. She hated them. She pitied them. Both truths sat side by side. Her fist flew to her eyes, rubbing them.

Karl’s mouth twisted.

“Do you even hear yourself when you scream his name?” Karl snarled. “You think you’re special? You’re not. He did the same to me. Whispered like a mentor, then dug the knife in and called it growth. That’s Milo’s ‘love.’ That’s all you’ll ever get from him.”

Amy froze. His eyes were wild, but beneath them she saw something hollow. Something familiar.

Cold mist bled from her skin. “I know,” she said, but the words came out brittle. The void of his tone gnawed at her chest. Do I know? A tremor rippled through her. Maybe Karl was right. Maybe Milo’s poison was in her veins, too.

Karl leaned closer, voice cracking sharp. “Don’t fool yourself. He’ll never be there when you need him. Neither of them were. Your mother, your father—they use people, Amy. That’s all they know how to do.” His lip curled. “And you’ll be no different.”

Her throat closed. The room spun. For a heartbeat, she believed him. She saw herself hollowed out like him, snarling, clinging to anger because it was safer than hope.

Karl laughed, sharp and joyless. “Good. Because if not, you’ll learn. Everyone learns, sooner or later. Milo doesn’t love anyone. Not you. Not Aurora. Not even himself.”

The words cut deeper than she wanted to admit. He sounded so certain, so ruined. Would Amy inevitably fall into his shadow?

But then—Amy saw it. Despite his rage, his gaze flicked sideways, just once, to Julius. And there it was: the crack. He had someone who cared, right next to him, and he couldn’t let himself believe it!

The realization struck like a flare in the dark. Karl wasn’t truth; he was a wound speaking. A boy who believed no one had ever loved him and never would.

And that was when Amy felt it. The memory of Kristo’s hand in hers. His eyes that sparkled with gentle kindness against the waves. The warmth spread from her head to her feet.

It’s not that nobody has loved me. I have been loved.

The present was cruel. But not forever.

I just have to hold on until morning.

Her eyes flicked to Aurora, to make sure she was safe.

Her mother still slept soundly.

Amy sighed in relief.

Karl. Aurora. Milo. They were all broken people.

But I don’t have to be.

And maybe, just maybe, I can choose to do good.

She nodded to herself, thinking of Kristo, the man who always chose to do good.

She looked Karl in the eyes. “Maybe that’s true. But I am not beyond love. And I’m still standing.”

Karl blinked then snarled. “Then you’re a fool.” He invaded her space, getting to close to her.

“Your parents changed the course of my life,” Karl snapped. “Your father used me. Your mother let mine die. They left me with nothing, you hear me? So what makes you think that you, the devil’s spawn, deserve love?”

The floor quaked; the teapot clattered off the table. Aurora’s arm snapped out in her sleep, power cracking the air. Stone groaned as Karl and Julius slammed against the wall.

When her eyes opened, they were blazing, Amy thought she saw not her mother but a monster ready to burn the room apart.

“Mom!”

“Maybe I should just tear you apart!” her mother seethed at the men.

Thomas stood up, standing between the two parties.

“Peace, Aurora. The boy is not your enemy, not yet. But your aggression will make him so, if you let it.”

Slowly, Aurora lowered her arm. Karl hissed in rage.

Aurora walked toward Karl, leaning in, fists clenched at her sides.

“You once asked if you’re a bad person. Cute. Because nothing screams good Samaritan like dragging a child across the ocean, kidnapping her, and dumping her at my feet. So go on—what is it you actually want with me?!"