Zephyr raised his head slightly from where he lay, face half-buried in the loamy soil and leaves. His eyes stung—not from tears, but from the fire roiling deep inside him, burning slow and hot. His breath hitched again, but then—
"Well. Well, what do we have here?"
He blinked away the haze and turned his head, pushing himself up with trembling arms.
A girl stood at the edge of the clearing, half-shadowed beneath the swaying branches. Her black hair shimmered in the filtered sunlight, and her uniform was rumpled, like she'd been running—or hunting. One hand was behind her back.
And then he remembered. Back before they fought the mutated Ant…
They'd gone around introducing themselves, listing their Arts like names in a roster.
"My name is Kola," she'd said, voice calm but certain. "My first Art induces paralysis. My second… encourages allies."
At the time, none of them had cared. Strangers thrown together, barely teammates.
