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Fear from friends

ผู้เขียน: Lost in love
last update วันที่เผยแพร่: 2026-08-28 06:34:05

*Isla*

By the time Caelen gets the practice hall ward shut down, the floor has split open along the center ring.

Blue fire burns beneath the boards for almost an hour.

I watch from the rain outside while wardkeepers arrive with iron rods and sealing salt. Nobody lets me near the door. Nobody says the word unstable, but it is there in every careful glance.

Sava is gone.

I notice when the rain has soaked through my shirt and Tomas has stopped coughing smoke into his sleeve. One moment she i
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  • The crippled omega warrior girl    Heart under water

    *Isla*The passage toward the curse-heart slopes downward.Of course it does.Black water runs the same direction, gathering around our boots before disappearing beneath the next turn. The remaining sanctuary line burns under it like blue wire.Miran lies in a blanket sling carried by Torven and Liora. Sena supports his broken hand against his chest. Tomas walks backward beside them, counting breaths and checking the sealed punctures in Miran's arms.Sava stays near his head.She does not carry him.That seems to cost her more than taking all his weight would."Twenty-eight," Miran whispers."Seven rows," she answers.His eyes close.Tomas taps his cheek. "Keep counting."Miran opens them again. "Your bedside manner is poor.""It improves when patients cooperate.""Unfortunate incentive."The insult satisfies Tomas enough to keep moving.Caelen stays at my right side. His arm circles my waist because I asked before we left the holding gallery. The cane finds the floor ahead. Right foo

  • The crippled omega warrior girl    The rescue line

    *Isla*The holding gallery door opens six inches and jams on bone.Not a body.A carved brace shaped like a forearm lies across the threshold, snapped at the wrist. Blue light shines from channels inside it.Bran wedges one shoulder into the gap.His face appears beyond the iron."Do not touch the carving," he says."Good morning to you too.""It redirects muscle commands."Caelen looks at the stone fingers. "Whose?""Currently nobody's.""Encouraging."Liora reaches through and catches the inner edge. Bran pulls from his side. Caelen adds one hand after Liora nods.The iron door scrapes over the broken brace.We squeeze through.The holding gallery curves around a sunken room. Four cell doors line the upper wall. All stand open. Their restraints hang cut or empty.Sava kneels beside the third.She is tapping the stone.Four.Pause.Three.Nothing answers.She repeats the pattern.The pauses are exact. Her hand is not.Liora crouches beside her. "Again."Sava strikes harder.Four.Pau

  • The crippled omega warrior girl    Recognize me

    *Isla* The feeling inside me answers yes. Warmth. Safety. Caelen's hand around mine before I have offered it. His visible hand remains six inches away. Neither of us moves. The hooked seals along the passage walls brighten. Black light runs between them, too dark to be shadow and too fluid to be stone. "Isla," Caelen says. "Do you feel safe?" "No." The false certainty tightens. It carries his scent now. Cedar oil. Wet blackpine. The clean salt of his skin after exertion. I smell the borrowed room at the north residence, the toll refuge, Maeven's kitchen. Places where I chose him. Caelen's eyes narrow. "What does it feel like?" "You." "Specifics." "Relief. Your hand. Your scent." "Any pressure to act?" The answer rises complete inside me. Take his hand. "Yes." Caelen lowers his hand. Immediately. The absence hurts, which is exactly what the curse wants. Stone grinds beneath our feet. A black seam splits the passage between us. Caelen steps toward me. "Stop," I

  • The crippled omega warrior girl    Gallery of names

    *Isla* Isla Ulvehjerte. Juvenile retained for compliance observation. Known facts continue beneath it. Academy transfer. Suppression schedule. Pain response. Registry gap. Then the record changes. Salt Court outcome uncertain. Bond pairing confirmed. Natural reciprocal pattern observed. Counterform compatibility exceeds projected threshold. The final entry is from two days ago. Prepare sanctuary receiving line. My body was expected here before Rovan entered the north residence. Before the forged pass. Before Orla made the curse speak with Caelen's voice. The objections to him sleeping beneath the same roof were not meant to keep him away. They made his presence contested, watched, measurable. "She needed us together," I say. Caelen's face goes cold. "And needed the Academy to believe it opposed her." "March observers confirmed contact. The pass delivered oath smoke. The lodging objection kept records of where you slept." Maeven studies the fresh plate. "They measu

  • The crippled omega warrior girl    Her name

    *Isla* The iron cabinet opens on names. Not paper. Thin metal plates stand inside narrow slots, each wrapped in oilcloth and stamped along one edge. The nearest bears a fox-head beneath four rows of tiny numbers. Maeven touches the stamp. The plate brightens. Words rise through the tarnish. FENNEC HOUSEHOLD RESPONSE, NORTHERN COUNTERFORM. Below it, generations have been reduced to columns. Birth. First command. Pain tolerance. Attachment route. Transfer capacity. Compliance outcome. Children marked in red. Caelen's arm remains around my waist. My left leg touches the gallery floor, but weight ends at the heel and goes nowhere useful. Water drips from the cut hem of my coat. Maeven removes the first plate. A name surfaces beneath her thumb. "Nera," she says. Caelen looks at her. "Your grandmother's sister?" "She died before standing." The plate disagrees. Nera Fennec. Age seven. High attachment response. Burden transferred to western receiving line after maternal ref

  • The crippled omega warrior girl    Flood tunnels

    *Isla* Water reaches my knee before we clear the first landing. The rigid support around my left leg fills and drags. Every step lifts half the sluice with it. Black water strikes from behind, catches the brace, and tries to turn my foot sideways. Caelen holds my hand. Not pulling. Not directing. His grip changes with the current, firm when the step disappears beneath me, loose when my balance returns. Maeven climbs along the wall on my other side, using the empty mouths of carved foxes as handholds. Another mouth erupts. Stormwater hits Caelen in the chest. He goes back one step. His injured shoulder strikes stone. The clean warmth of his hand vanishes as our fingers separate. I plant the cane between his boots. The wrapped grip catches beneath his heel before the current takes it. "Caelen. Cane." He looks down. I angle the shaft toward the wall. He follows the pressure, shifts his weight, and regains the step. Maeven grips his coat. "Now." He reaches the wall. The n

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