Split Down the Middle

Therrin's POV

The clearing was quiet, but Dion could feel it—the static buzz of unrest in the air, like a storm waiting to break. Therrin stood a few paces away, her arms crossed tightly over her chest, back rigid. Her silence was deceptive. Inside, she was anything but still.

"You're too quiet." Ari's voice pressed against her mind. "Say something. He's waiting."

Therrin clenched her fists. "I don't know what to say," she muttered, barely audible. "Everything feels…wrong."

Dion tilted his head. "Therrin?"

She turned, startled by how close he'd gotten. His expression was soft, eyes full of worry—and something deeper. Devotion. Pain.

"We need to talk," he said gently.

Her heart twisted. We. A word that shouldn't hurt, but it did.

"Let me talk to him," Ari urged. "I can say what you can't."

"No," Therrin said aloud.

Dion blinked. "No?"

"Sorry. I wasn't talking to you," she replied quickly, hugging her arms tighter around herself. The truth was slipping. Their balance was thinning.

Ari pushed harder. "Therrin, please. Let me help."

"No," she snapped again—but it was too late. The mental dam cracked. Her knees buckled. She didn't hit the ground—because suddenly, it wasn't hers to control anymore.

Her body shifted mid-step. Her entire bearing changed—shoulders relaxing into an easy grace, lips curving into a faint smile. The soul within had swapped. Ari stood in Therrin's place, eyes brighter and more daring.

"Ari," Dion breathed, recognizing her instantly. It wasn't just her stance—it was the soul peering through those eyes. Confident. Curious. Cracking with mischief.

"Hello again," she said, voice silkier, movements looser. "Miss me?"

Dion exhaled slowly, caught off guard but not rejecting her presence. "You took over again."

"She wasn't handling it well," Ari admitted, twirling a strand of their shared hair around a finger. "You scare her, you know."

"I don't mean to," he said quickly.

"She knows that. But fear doesn't care."

Something shifted in the trees. A sudden gust of cold swept the clearing, and Dion's breath hitched. The air thickened. He could feel her—them—splintering inside.

Ari frowned. "Something's wrong."

Therrin's voice echoed sharply from within. "Give it back. You're making this worse."

"I'm trying to help—"

"You're not!"

The tug-of-war snapped tight. Their shared body trembled, a flash of panic crossing Ari's face. A flicker of Therrin's eyes bled through, wide and storm-gray.

And then everything changed.

The trees warped. Light flickered unnaturally, twisting shadows in impossible angles. The earth cracked underfoot with a low groan, and darkness bled across the mossy ground like ink. The clearing was gone, replaced by a twisted, mirrored version of it. Their mindscape was bleeding through into reality.

Dion fell to one knee, clutching his chest. "What—what's happening?!"

Inside their soul, Therrin and Ari were at war.

Within the Mind

They stood in a shattered space—half forest, half nightmarish reflection. Trees were made of bone. The sky dripped black stars. And between it all stood Therrin and Ari, facing one another like rival queens at war.

"You're pushing too hard!" Therrin shouted, voice echoing.

"You're hiding!" Ari fired back. "You're terrified of feeling anything!"

"I'm protecting us!"

"No—you're suffocating us."

A sudden crack split the air. The mindscape trembled. Something howled in the distance—deep and ancient.

"Do you hear that?" Ari whispered. "It's coming. Whatever's hunting us—it feels our weakness."

Therrin fell to her knees, sobbing. "I didn't ask for this. I didn't ask for you."

Ari froze, eyes wide. "I know," she whispered. "But I didn't ask to be born into you either."

The shadows surged, rushing toward them like waves of ink. And then—

"ENOUGH."

Grimm's voice sliced through the storm like lightning. The shadows reeled back. A pair of glowing green eyes blinked into the chaos. His feline form coalesced slowly—two tails lashing, coat fluffed in fury.

"You're going to destroy yourselves," he growled.

"Both of you."

Therrin sobbed harder. "I don't know how to stop it."

"Yes, you do," Grimm said more gently now, stepping between them. "You stop fighting. You choose."

"I can't choose her over me," Therrin whispered.

"Then don't." Grimm turned to Ari. "And you—stop forcing your way through her defenses. You'll break what's not yours to command."

Ari lowered her head, trembling.

"You're two souls," Grimm said softly, "but you're still one body. One heart. One fate. And whether you want to or not, you're tied together. That bond is either going to burn you from the inside out… or become your greatest strength."

The storm in the mind began to slow, flickers of green leaves returning. The bone trees cracked, healing bark crawling up their twisted limbs. A heartbeat pulsed through the earth below. One. Then another.

Therrin reached out with shaking fingers. Ari did the same.

Their hands met.

The soul-storm ceased.

Back in the Real World

Dion gasped as color returned to the world. The ground stilled. The shadows fled. And Therrin—her true self—stood before him, knees shaking, face pale.

She looked up at him, eyes wide and wet.

"I—I'm sorry," she whispered.

"Don't apologize." Dion stepped forward, slowly. "I felt it… all of it."

"You weren't supposed to."

"I wanted to," he said fiercely. "I want to feel whatever you feel. Both of you. Even when it hurts."

Her lip trembled. "I don't know how to let you love us."

"I'll figure it out," he said softly. "One step at a time. I'll love both your souls. Not just for who you are—but for who you're afraid to be."

And that—that was too much.

Therrin turned and bolted.