chapter 3

The rain tapped gently against the window, a steady rhythm that filled the quiet room. Vall lay on her bed, her wounds looking better but still far from healed. She was sound asleep, her chest rising and falling in a slow, steady rhythm. Cloe sat on the floor beside the bed, her red hair spilling over Vall’s blanket like a fiery halo. Her arm shielded her eyes from the faint light filtering through the window, her body curled up in exhaustion. Cloe stirred, her eyes fluttering open as she rubbed the sleep from them. She stood slowly, her legs stiff and numb from sitting on the hard floor. Vall didn’t move, her breathing deep and even. She needed more rest—Cloe’s healing had done its part, but it wasn’t enough to fully repair the damage Nix had inflicted. Broken bones took time, even for a healer. As Cloe stretched her arms above her head, a familiar scent hit her—sharp and minty, cutting through the damp air of the room. She froze, her heart skipping a beat. Nix was behind her, her presence filling the small space like a storm cloud. Cloe turned her head slowly, her green eyes meeting Nix’s. The raven leader’s eyes were unlike anything Cloe had ever seen—galactic, shimmering with a mix of silver and gold, like twin stars burning in the night. "Move," Nix ordered, her voice low and commanding. Cloe hesitated, her body instinctively obeying before her mind could catch up. She took a step back, creating space for Nix to pass. The raven leader moved past her, her wide shoulders casting a shadow over the bed. She stood over Vall, her expression unreadable as she studied her

sister’s sleeping form. There was no remorse in her eyes, no hint of guilt for the pain she’d caused. Vall was lucky the broken rib hadn’t punctured anything vital. Lucky, but not forgiven. Cloe stayed rooted to the spot, her senses overwhelmed by Nix’s pheromones. They were strong, almost suffocating, a stark contrast to Vall’s light, unmarked scent. Cloe felt herself drawn to it, her body reacting in ways she couldn’t quite understand. She clenched her fists, forcing herself to stay grounded. "You shouldn’t have followed us," Nix said, her voice cutting through the silence like a blade. Cloe blinked, her mind still foggy from sleep. It took her a moment to realize Nix was speaking to her. She swallowed hard, gathering her courage. This wasn’t just any Gaian—this was the leader of the Black Horns, a legend in her own right. Cloe couldn’t afford to falter. "She was hurt," Cloe said, her voice steady despite the storm raging inside her. "I couldn’t just sit back and watch you beat her further." Nix turned her head slightly, her galactic eyes narrowing as she studied Cloe. "This isn’t your concern, healer. Stay away." Cloe’s jaw tightened, her green eyes flashing with defiance. "Venix, you almost killed her." Nix stepped closer, her towering frame looming over Cloe. The scent of mint grew stronger, wrapping around Cloe like a vice. Nix leaned down, her face inches from Cloe’s, her breath warm against her skin. "Healer," she said, her voice low and dangerous, "stay away from my sister."

Cloe’s heart pounded in her chest, but she refused to look away. She met Nix’s gaze head-on, her emerald eyes blazing with determination. For a moment, the room seemed to hold its breath, the tension between them crackling like a live wire. "What’s going on?" Vall’s voice broke the silence, weak but clear. She was awake, her hand clutching her ribs as she tried to sit up. The pain made her hiss, her face contorting in discomfort. Nix straightened, her expression unreadable as she glanced at Vall. "You’re awake. Good. Get dressed and come downstairs," she said, her tone cold and dismissive. Without another word, she turned and left the room, her boots echoing down the hallway. Cloe watched her go, her hands trembling at her sides. She took a deep breath, forcing herself to calm down before turning to Vall. "Are you okay?" she asked, her voice softer now. Vall winced as she shifted on the bed. "Yeah, I’ll live," she said, her voice strained. "What happened? Why does it feel like I missed something?" Cloe shook her head, her green eyes darkening as she tried to push down the emotions swirling inside her. "Nothing important," she said, forcing a small smile. "I have to go. I’ll see you later." Before Vall could respond, Cloe turned and left the room, her footsteps quick and purposeful. She made her way downstairs, her mind racing as she tried to process everything that had just happened. Nix’s words echoed in her head, a constant reminder of the line she’d crossed.

The kitchen was warm and inviting, the smell of food filling the air. Nix sat at the table, her presence dominating the room even as she ate in silence. Miss Whitehill stood at the sink, humming an old song as she washed the dishes. She turned when she heard Cloe’s footsteps, her face lighting up with a smile. "Oh, Cloe! How nice of you to visit," Miss Whitehill said, her voice warm and welcoming. She wiped her hands on a towel and gestured to the table. "Would you like to join us for lunch?" Cloe forced a smile, her eyes flickering to Nix for a brief moment. The raven leader didn’t look up, her focus entirely on her food. "No, thank you," Cloe said, her voice polite but distant. "I have to go." Miss Whitehill’s smile faltered, but she nodded understandingly. "Of course, dear. You’re always welcome here." Cloe nodded, her heart heavy as she turned and walked out the door. The rain had stopped, leaving the street damp and glistening in the afternoon light. Cloe walked quickly, her mind still replaying the confrontation with Nix. Those galactic eyes, cold and unyielding, haunted her every step. She didn’t look back. —----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Miss Whitehill sat at the table, her hands folded neatly in front of her as she watched her eldest daughter with a mixture of pride and concern. The room was warm, filled with the comforting aroma of freshly cooked food, but the tension between mother and daughter was palpable.

"Venix, you should eat properly," Miss Whitehill said, her voice soft but insistent. She pushed a plate of food closer to Nix, her eyes pleading. "You’re always rushing off. At least take a moment to enjoy your meal." Nix glanced up from her plate, her galactic eyes cold and unreadable. She didn’t respond, her expression blank as she continued to eat in silence. The ticking of the clock on the wall seemed louder than usual, each second a reminder that her time here was limited. She had a mission to complete, another stretch of days away from this small town and its suffocating familiarity. The Black Horns, the elite troop Nix led, were a force to be reckoned with. Composed of the most skilled Gaians, they were tasked with protecting the high walls and eliminating any threats that dared to approach. They had faced humans in battle, fought until their hands were stained with blood, and emerged victorious time and time again. Gaians were blessed with speed and strength, gifts from Mother Nature herself, and Nix embodied those gifts more than anyone. "Stop bothering her," a deep voice interrupted, cutting through the tension like a knife. Gert Whitehill stood in the doorway, a newspaper in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other. His presence shifted the atmosphere in the room, his gruff tone silencing any further protests from his wife. "Your daughter is a leader, Marie. Be proud." Miss Whitehill sighed, her shoulders slumping as she turned her attention to her husband. "I am proud," she said, her voice tinged with frustration. "But that doesn’t mean I can’t worry about her." Gert didn’t respond, his focus already back on the newspaper in his hands. He took a sip of his coffee, his expression unreadable as he leaned against the counter.

Nix stood abruptly, her chair scraping against the floor. "I’m leaving," she said, her voice flat. She grabbed her jacket from the corner of the room, shrugging it on with practiced ease. Without another word, she headed for the door, her boots echoing against the wooden floor. Miss Whitehill watched her go, her heart heavy with unspoken words. She wanted to call out, to tell Nix to be careful, to come back soon. But she knew it wouldn’t make a difference. Nix was a force of nature, untouchable and unyielding, and no amount of motherly concern could change that. --- Upstairs, Vall lay in bed, staring at the ceiling as she listened to the sounds of her family below. The tension in the house was thick, even from her room, and she could feel it pressing down on her like a weight. Nix was gone now, and Vall knew she wouldn’t be back for days. That meant a brief reprieve—no more fights, no more bruises, no more broken bones. But it also meant more time to think, to dwell on her own inadequacies. Vall bit her lip, holding back the tears that threatened to spill over. She wanted to be strong, to prove herself worthy of her family’s legacy. But how could she, when she couldn’t even defend herself against her own sister? Nix was a warrior, a leader, everything Vall wasn’t. And no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she would never measure up. Her stomach growled, pulling her out of her thoughts. Vall sat up slowly, wincing as the movement tugged at her still-healing ribs. She swung her legs over the side of the bed, her feet touching the cold floor. Standing was a challenge, her legs shaky and unsteady, but she managed. She grabbed the banister for support as she made her way downstairs, each step feeling like a mockery of her weakness.

Miss Whitehill heard the creak of the stairs and turned, her eyes softening as she saw Vall descending slowly, one step at a time. Her heart ached for her youngest daughter, but there was nothing she could do to shield her from the harsh realities of their world. "You’re up?" Gert’s voice broke the silence, his tone sharp and disapproving. He didn’t look up from his newspaper, his expression one of mild annoyance. Vall reached the bottom of the stairs, her breath coming in shallow gasps. She ignored her father’s comment, her focus on the table full of food. The smell was intoxicating, and her stomach growled again, louder this time. "I see," Gert said, finally looking up. His eyes narrowed as he studied Vall, his disappointment evident. "Unmarked again." The words hit Vall like a punch to the gut. She clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms as she fought to keep her composure. She wanted to scream, to tell him how hard she was trying, how much it hurt to be constantly compared to Nix. But she didn’t. Instead, she walked past him, her head held high regardless of the tears burning in her eyes.

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