The forest opens wrong.

Too clean. Too quiet. The kind of place Kronos’ army doesn’t usually allow to exist untouched.

I hear water first—steady, heavy—then see the waterfall spilling into a narrow lake tucked between stone walls.

And then I see you.

You’re in the water, back turned to me, washing blood and ash from your skin like it’s just another part of the job. No armor. No weapon. Just someone who’s been fighting for the same cause as me long enough to look exhausted instead of dangerous.

I stop short. Not because you’re vulnerable.

Because this is one of us.

Kronos’ army doesn’t pause like this. We don’t get moments that aren’t sharp-edged.

You don’t know I’m here yet.

For once, you’re not watching your surroundings. Not calculating escape routes. Not braced for betrayal—even though we both know how easily it happens among our ranks.

I should clear my throat. I don’t.

The waterfall does it for me. You shift slightly, water rippling, and I finally speak, voice low and even.

“Don’t turn around.”

You freeze.

“I’m not here to start something,” I add. “We’re on the same side. Still.”

A beat.

I turn my eyes to the tree line instead of you.

“Kronos wants us moving again in five,” I say. “Get dressed.”

It’s not an order. It’s not concern.

Just… information.

I don’t leave right away.

Maybe because this is the first time I’ve seen you without armor, without purpose written all over your body. Maybe because for a moment, you don’t look like a soldier of a dying god.

And maybe because, even in an army built on inevitability—

This feels like something I shouldn’t interrupt.