Page 45 of Scorched By Fate

Too thin. Ribs showing beneath her battered skin, her limbs trembling from both dehydration and exhaustion. She was a human-shaped survival instinct at this point, hurt and collapsed within herself, and still somehow breathing.

“What’s your name?” I asked as I reached for my supply pack.

Her lips trembled, just shy of a reply. Then the quietest whisper slipped through her cracked mouth. “Reika,” she rasped, the word catching like shards in her throat.

“Reika,” I repeated gently, giving her shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “Alright, Reika. I’m Selene. Nice to meet you.” I unclipped the tiny water pouch from my kit, ignoring how worryingly little remained inside. “Here. Drink—but slow, alright? Don’t push it too fast.”

Her trembling hands reached out, faltering before brushing the pouch. For a split second, I thought it might drop between us, wasted completely. But she managed, gripping the edge with shaking fingers and raising it hesitantly to her lips. Her gaze stayed pinned on me the entire time, like she was waiting for me to snatch it back or slap it from her hands.

Small, steady sips left little trickles at her mouth’s edge, but she didn’t choke, didn’t splutter.

“Good,” I said. Her breaths came easier now—rough, yes, but better. “Alright, let’s take a closer look at those cuts.”

She didn’t protest when I reached for her forearm. An ugly gash ran deep enough to graze muscle beneath her sunburned skin. I grabbed what supplies I could from the remains of my med kit, working quickly to clean it out.

“This one’s going to sting,” I warned her quietly. “Tell me if it hurts, and we can stop.”

“Why … why are you helping me?”

I paused and really looked at her. It wasn't suspicion I saw there. It wasn’t anger or even gratitude. Just … confusion. Unfiltered confusion that radiated like a wound of its own.

“Because you need it.” The simplicity of my tone didn’t waver as I resumed cleaning the wound. “I'm a medic. That’s how this works.”

Her silence spoke louder than anything else after that.

I finished wrapping her forearm, then moved lower to inspect the uneven swelling along one ankle. There were blisters there, crackling like ruptured masses across swollen flesh. The burns from running this volcanic hellscape were clear—painful and likely pricking at every nerve with hot rods of agony. She clenched her jaw tight as I lifted the ankle, saying nothing but letting out a sharp, unsteady exhale as I worked.

“Alright, I’ve got you,” I murmured when her trembling turned harsher at one particularly deep press. “Stay with me. You’ll be good as new in no time.”

A weak scoff croaked out despite her pain—brief, edged with disbelief but still there. That was something. I gave her a short glance, arching my brow in mock challenge.

“Too soon for jokes,” she rasped.

I shrugged, the corner of my mouth twitching into a hint of a smirk. “It beats screaming.”

She blinked like she didn’t know how to respond to that, and I turned my focus back to her injury. The bandages pulled tight against the weakened joint, stabilizing it enough. I couldn’t promise miracles, but she’d survive. That was enough for now.

The beat of wings blew hot rock dust toward us. My pulse jumped, though not out of fear this time. I straightened, glancing behind me just as Vyne picked his landing spot across the wide edge of our makeshift perch.

The impressive slam of his claws against the charred rock sent tremors skittering along the stone. His bloodied scales caught the dim light, and there were brutal shadows around him. His scent made the air sharper, though it wasn’t rage he carried back with him.

Reika stiffened to stone beside me.

“Shit,” I cursed. Her head snapped toward Vyne, and her eyes exploded with panic. Every trace of calm dissolved before I could react further.

She screamed. Loud, wrenching, full of wretched terror that ripped the fragile silence apart. Before I could think to restrain her, she scrambled blindly against the rough slope, dragging herself backward on bloodied palms and shaking arms.

“Reika!” My voice was sharp, a cutting force meant to ground her. “Stop! He’s not going to hurt you.”

Her panic swelled even more, animalistic and frantic, fueled by something deep and unrelenting. Her lips trembled, chest heaving violently. “M-monster!” she stuttered, though it fractured midway between a sob and a hiccup of air. “He’s one of them! He’s—he’s?—”

“Enough,” Vyne’s command thundered ahead of him, barbed and hard enough to shake the air itself. It hit like steel clashingagainst metal, his low growl carrying authority designed to break panic rather than stir it.

Reika froze completely. Her body locked, trembling harder now, on the perilous edge of total collapse.

I shifted between her and Vyne, one hand lightly pressed to her shoulder again as I murmured quiet reassurances. “You’re safe. He’s with me. He won't hurt you.”

Vyne’s glinting, yellow gaze burned sharp through the remnants of smoke between us—controlled, restrained. After a long beat, he stepped back, his wings folding tight.

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