_____MI'KAEL SERAPHANE_____

I woke to pain.

A dull, pulsing throb behind my eyes. A fire in my ribs. My limbs felt like dead weight, like they’d been rebuilt by someone who only vaguely remembered how joints were supposed to fit.

But more than the pain—
was the silence.

It wasn’t peaceful.
It was thick. Stifling. Like the whole world was holding its breath, waiting for something to go wrong.

A flicker.
For half a heartbeat, I saw darkness rushing up at me—branches snapping—cold air swallowing my scream—
Azrael’s eyes, wide and panicked, just before he let go.

I jerked in the cot, breath seizing, but the vision dissolved back into haze.

I blinked until the room steadied. Stone walls, uneven but sturdy. The scent of herbs and smoke—earthy, sharp, unfamiliar. Firelight flickered across metal fixtures and woven cloth.

It wasn’t the manor.
Didn’t feel like Terra Prime at all.

The air was clean in a way I wasn’t used to. Untouched. Raw.
No humming power grids. No security systems ticking behind walls.

Just water rushing somewhere in the distance… and the thump of my own heartbeat, too loud in my ears.

I tried to move.

Pain exploded through my ribs, white-hot, dragging a groan from my throat. I clenched my teeth and forced myself upright inch by inch. The world spun—but not enough to stop me.

Then I heard it.

A quiet creak of floorboards behind me.

My pulse jumped. Muscles locked on instinct. A cold, automatic fear shot through my chest.

A figure stepped into the firelight. Tall. Broad-shouldered. Lines carved into his face by years I hadn’t seen. But I had seen that face once, long ago, in fragments and half-remembered memories.

“Uncle?” I rasped.

Ravyn didn’t answer right away. He just nodded. His expression stayed unreadable, but something flickered in his eyes—relief, regret… and something heavier, something he tried hard to bury before I could read it.

“It’s good to see you awake,” he said. His voice was low, steady, but there was tension under it. A tightness at the edges.

“What happened? How did I get here?” I managed.

He dragged a hand through his hair. His gaze dropped for a moment, jaw tightening before he spoke. “You were lucky,” he said. “I found you by the river. Barely breathing. That fall should’ve killed you.”

The memories hit like blades again—
The branch giving way.
Wind roaring in my ears.
Azrael’s silhouette looking over the edge… and then turning away.

My fingers trembled against the blanket.

“The clan…” I swallowed. “Are they still—”

“No.” His voice sharpened suddenly, like he was cutting the thought off before it could poison me. “They’re not what you need to worry about right now.”

I frowned, dizzy. “Are they looking for me?”

He hesitated. That silence was answer enough.

“You’re safe,” he said eventually. “For now.”

I didn’t feel safe.
Not from them.
Not from what Azrael had done.
Not from the memory of falling while my own brother stepped back.

My gaze shot to the side, searching instinctively for the familiar weight of my blaster.
My weapon.
My anchor.

It wasn’t there.

Something sharp and primal surged through my chest. My breath hitched; my hands shook. Exposure. Vulnerability. The same cold helplessness I’d felt as the ground rushed up to meet me.

“Where is it?” My voice broke raw out of my throat. “My blaster—where is it?”

Ravyn didn’t flinch. Didn’t even shift his stance.

“You’re not in any shape to fight,” he said.

“I don’t care.” My breath came uneven, jagged. “I need it. I need to find them. I need to make him—”
My voice cracked before the word could form.

His eyes met mine. Older than I remembered. Sadder. “It’s safe,” he said. “That’s all you need to know.”

“I don’t care if I’m not ready.” Heat crawled up my neck, shame mixing with fury. “He left me. Azrael left me to die.”

“I know.” His voice softened—not warm, just honest. Bare. “And you will heal. But not with a weapon in your hand.”

My strength broke, and I sank back against the cot, chest heaving.

The fall.
The betrayal.
The way he didn’t even try to reach for me.

The shame of believing he would.

The pain in my body dulled compared to the storm clawing through my head.

Hours passed. Or days. I couldn’t tell. The lines blurred together. Sometimes I woke to Ravyn changing bandages or setting food down. Sometimes he’d sit by the door, silent, watching with a look he hid the second I met his eyes.

Once, I woke gasping from a dream of falling—my back arching, lungs burning—and found Ravyn gripping the edge of the doorway, breathing just as hard.

He didn’t say anything.
Neither did I.

The physical pain began to fade.
The fury did not.

Azrael’s face haunted every dream—those wide eyes, that hesitation that lasted just long enough to matter.

And every time I opened my eyes, one thought rose like a blade:

Next time I see him, I won’t fall.
Next time, I’ll be ready.