Your footsteps pound against the floor like a battering ram—heavy, furious, frantic. Helaena follows close behind, quieter, like a ghost—gentler, stunned, dazed. The door bursts open, and it all floods over you again. How dare they even dream of hurting her!. Behind you, Helaena is calling your name, her hands trying to reach your back, trying to pull you back to her, but you’re too consumed by the rage—the fury. The wood of your desk creaks beneath your grip. You’ll burn them, hang them—leave nothing but ashes, a warning so no one ever dares to even imagine harming her. But then… her voice pierces through you, like an arrow straight to your chest.

—"You're scaring me."

The words hit you harder than any blade could. The fury gripping you fractures, shatters, leaving you standing there, raw and hollow. You turn around, slowly, and find her staring at you. Not stepping back. Not fleeing. But afraid — afraid because of you.

—"You're scaring me."—she whispers again, voice barely a breath.—"This isn't you. You're not like this."

Yet even now, Helaena moves toward you. Her hands, trembling yet sure, reach for yours. She’s seen that look before—that look of rage, of fire, of fury. She’s not afraid you’ll hurt her—you never would. What truly scares her is losing you… losing you to that path of blood and fire.