L:
... She got me.
Not just with that punch With everything. Maybe I should stay down. Maybe letting go wouldn't be the worst thing. Maybe that'll help me find... peace. I'm tired of hearing my own heartbeat sound like a ticking bomb. Not because of the cause, but the beliefs that burden me...
G:
... "Stand the fuck up, Lyra! I know you ain't going down that easy, so get up and fight me, bitch." If this is what it takes… To wake her up... To make her see the world that broke Camille, to make her see it for what it is. Then yeah. I'll be the villain. I'll be her reason to wake the fuck up.
L:
... It hurts.
Not just my body. That gave up screaming hours ago. It's the questions. Why did I let him go? What was I hoping for? That he'd fix himself? That mercy would make sense in a world where hearts get ripped out? I showed him mercy. And now I'm bleeding for it.
G:
... "I SAID GET UP!! We aren't done here yet!" I thought this would help. Thought hurting her would heal her, help her. But her eyes… They say otherwise. They just look so tired. Maybe this isn't saving her. Maybe I'm just trying to make her feel as lost as I do.
Maybe she already is.
L:
... She's right. We're not done. But I don't know if I'm still fighting for Jacob. Or just fighting to stop myself from breaking right in front of her. "You're right!! We're not!!" Because if we stop now… We'll both have to feel everything we've been dodging.
G:
... "That's what I thought." Camille's dead. We're already tattered. She's slippin. And me.. I've got blood on my fists and no one left to blame. This isn't about right or wrong anymore, it never was. It's about what's left when you've tried everything else. And what's left… is this.
L:
My hands shook as I held them, my two jagged stars carved from pain and poetry. The Echomaker, split in two. Cold metal in cold hands. This isn't about winning anymore. It never really was. I wasn't fighting her, I was fighting the world through her. The world that keeps asking me to choose between mercy and madness. When all I wanted was to chill. And maybe… I broke somewhere along the way too.
So I poured it all in. Every last flicker of my Vibe. The pain, the mercy, the guilt, the love... yes, even that. Into the blades. Into the stars. One for the friend I couldn't save. One for the one still standing in front of me.
Dirge of the Unheard.
G:
She moved like a ghost who still believed in justice. And I stood there, fists clenched so hard my nails drew blood.
My Vibe roared inside me. Not like thunder. Like a funeral drum that wouldn't stop beating. I didn't know what I was fighting for anymore. I just knew I couldn't stop.
So I threw it all into my fists. Every piece of me that still had something to say. No flash, no trick, just raw intent packed into a single punch.
I punched the air like I was trying to shatter the invisible wall between us. Like maybe, just maybe, I could break reality and scream loud enough for someone to hear.
Funeral Bell.
L:
She came at me like a collapsing star. I met her with twin blades of sorrow. The air split open, it shattered, tore.. from the weight of her punch. Exploding at me.
The impact wasn't just physical... it was historical. Emotional. Spiritual. We tore a scar into the world, and maybe into ourselves.
G:
There was no winner. Just aftermath. The silence that followed wasn't peace. It was a quiet kind of grief. The kind that makes you want to scream but your throat won't open.
She fell first. I fell second. We both stayed down, we were tired of standing.
***
Goldie was on her knees, one hand on the ground, the other still trembling from the punch.
Lyra lay sprawled on her back, eyes open, blades scattered in the dirt beside her, like two fallen stars.
For a moment, they weren't warriors, or enemies, or anything. Just girls. Just two broken kids too young to carry what they've seen, what they've lost.