Three Months Ago
Isabella Solder
I don't understand at first that it's over.
My ears are still ringing like something is stuck inside them, and the air feels thick and hot even though the wind keeps pushing smoke through the streets. My throat burns every time I breathe. My hands are shaking so much I can't tell if it's from fear, adrenaline, or just because I've been holding on too tight for too long.
Dagian is in my arms.
He's not standing. He's not talking. He's not even doing that calm, quiet thing where he looks like he's thinking about five different things at once. He's just… heavy. Like his body forgot how to hold itself up.
His head is tilted against my shoulder. Brown hair is messy and dusty, stuck to his forehead with sweat and blood. His coat is torn in places. There's red on him that doesn't look like it belongs there, and some of it is too dark.
"Dagian?" I whisper.
No response.
I tighten my grip on him without thinking, like I can keep him here with my hands. I press my fingers against his chest, trying to feel his breathing through the layers of bandages and fabric and whatever else is stuck to him.
It's there.
Barely.
It's shallow, like he's tired of doing it.
My chest squeezes so hard it feels like someone grabbed my heart.
"No," I say, louder, even though my voice sounds small. "No, no—Dagian. Wake up."
Marissa is right beside me, her arm around his back too, like we're both trying to hold him together. Her face is streaked with tears and ash. Her eyes are wide, not blinking enough.
She keeps saying his name under her breath like it's a prayer.
Around us, people start cheering.
I hear it clearly now. The sound spreads fast, like a wave. Some people laugh like they can't believe they're alive. Others cry, holding onto strangers. A few fall to their knees and put their heads down. Hunters lower their weapons. Civilians crawl out from behind broken walls and rubble piles, shaking, staring at the sky like they're checking if the Red Moon is really gone.
"It's over!" someone shouts.
"The Hunt is over!"
"Golden Moon—thank the Golden Moon!"
It feels wrong.
It feels like everyone is celebrating something I can't even look at.
Because Dagian still isn't moving.
I try to shift him, gently, to see if he'll react, and his arm flops just a little, lifeless, and I feel like I'm going to throw up.
"Dagian—please—"
A figure moves into my view fast.
Rogan.
He drops down in front of us like he's done this a thousand times. His hands are already reaching for Dagian, his eyes sharp and focused even though he looks exhausted too. His coat is dirty. There's a cut on his cheek. He doesn't stop to talk first. He just checks.
"Move," he says quickly. Not rude. Just urgent. "Give me room."
I scoot back a little, still clinging to Dagian's hand. I don't know when I grabbed it, but I can't let go now. My fingers feel locked.
Rogan presses two fingers to Dagian's neck, then his wrist. He shifts Dagian's coat aside to check his chest and stomach area, then looks at his face.
Rogan's expression changes.
It's not panic.
It's worse.
It's that look people get when they've seen this before.
"Dagian," Rogan says, like he's speaking to him directly. "Stay with me."
He doesn't respond.
Rogan looks up, scanning the area, then he stands suddenly and shouts so loud it makes me flinch.
"MEDICS! HERE! NOW! I NEED MEDICS RIGHT NOW!"
His voice cuts through the cheering and the relief like a blade. People turn. Some hunters move immediately, yelling to each other, pointing. A few begin running, boots pounding over stone.
Marissa's breathing gets louder.
"Please," she whispers, and I don't know if she's talking to Rogan or God or the moon or Dagian. "Please, please…"
I look down at Dagian again, and I hate how still he looks.
I've only known him for two weeks.
That thought hits me like someone slapped me.
Two weeks.
That's it.
Two weeks since I woke up falling through the sky.
I still remember the feeling of air ripping past me, the panic, my stomach dropping as the ground rushed closer. I remember the split second where I thought, So this is how I die. I don't even get to understand what happened.
And then hands caught me.
Strong, steady, like it wasn't even hard.
Dagian looked down at me afterward like I was something he had to protect, not something he didn't understand. He asked if I was hurt, like it was normal to catch a girl falling out of nowhere.
He didn't treat me like a problem.
He treated me like a person.
Ever since then, he's been… there.
Always close enough.
Always watching.
Even when he pretended he wasn't.
He kept me safe. He kept me hidden. He didn't tell everyone what I was, where I came from. He just… handled it. Like he decided it was his responsibility.
And now he's here in my arms, broken.
I don't know what this feeling in my chest is. It's not just fear. It's not just sadness.
It's like something is pulling inward, like the idea of him not being here anymore is something my brain refuses to accept.
"I don't want you to die," I whisper.
The words come out before I can stop them.
I squeeze his hand tighter.
"You can't," I say again, voice shaking. "You can't. You're not allowed. Not like this."
Tears drop onto our hands. I don't wipe them away. I don't care how I look.
I press my forehead against his knuckles because I don't know what else to do.
"I don't understand this place," I whisper, almost to myself. "I don't understand anything. But you've been protecting me since I fell through. You promised—" I stop because I realize he never said the words out loud. He didn't have to. He just did it. "Please… don't leave."
My whole body is shaking.
Then something changes.
Not outside.
Inside me.
A warmth blooms in my chest, quiet but steady. It spreads down my arms like it has somewhere to go. It doesn't feel scary. It doesn't feel violent.
It feels natural.
I freeze for half a second, confused, but I don't pull away. I don't stop holding his hand.
The warmth slips into my palms, then into Dagian's fingers.
It's subtle. No light show. No huge blast.
Just warmth.
Like I'm giving him something without even meaning to.
Dagian's breathing shifts.
It's small at first, barely noticeable. But I feel it because I'm holding him so close. His chest rises a little deeper. The next breath doesn't hitch as hard.
A medic rushes in, skidding slightly on loose stone.
He stops dead.
"…Wait," he mutters.
Rogan snaps his head toward him. "What?"
The medic kneels fast, checking Dagian's pulse.
His brows furrow.
"That's… that's weird."
Rogan's voice turns sharp. "Don't say weird. Say what it is."
The medic checks again, then looks at the small device on his belt that's monitoring something.
"His vitals are stabilizing," he says slowly. "His heart rate's improving."
Another medic arrives and kneels too, then another. They start working quickly—checking wounds, pressing bandages down, applying something that smells like sharp herbs and alcohol.
"He shouldn't be stabilizing," one of them says under his breath.
"It could be his Eidolon system," another replies. "Maybe it's coming back online."
Rogan's eyes narrow. "It was gone earlier."
"Severe trauma can shut it down temporarily," a medic says, already wrapping something around Dagian's arm. "If it's reactivating, it could be—"
"Good," Rogan cuts in. "Don't care why. Just keep him alive."
No one looks at me.
No one notices the warmth fading from my hands, or the strange ache that follows it, like I just used a muscle I didn't know I had. It doesn't hurt. It just makes me feel tired for a second.
I swallow hard and keep holding Dagian's hand like nothing happened.
Because if they notice me, I don't know what happens next.
And because right now, all I care about is that Dagian is breathing.
The medics lift him carefully onto a stretcher. Rogan helps, steadying Dagian's head so it doesn't loll to the side. The stretcher creaks under the weight and the added equipment they attach—tubes, straps, glowing crystals embedded in little holders.
Dagian looks smaller on the stretcher, like the world swallowed the fight and left him behind.
I follow close, still holding his hand until a medic gently but firmly pries my fingers loose.
"I'm sorry," he says quickly, not unkind. "We need room."
I nod, wiping my face with the back of my sleeve, but the tears keep coming anyway.
Marissa stays beside me. Her hands are clenched so tight her knuckles are white.
Rogan steps back after helping secure Dagian.
He looks exhausted, chest rising and falling like he's been holding his breath for hours. His eyes flick to me and Marissa, and something softens in his expression.
"He's alive," Rogan says quietly.
My breath catches.
Marissa makes a sound that's half a sob, half a laugh. She covers her mouth, shaking.
"He shouldn't be," Rogan admits. "He took fatal injuries. A lot of them. But… he's stubborn. And whatever just happened, the medics think he's stabilizing."
I nod fast, even though my brain feels slow.
"Where are you taking him?" I ask, voice cracking.
"One of the emergency facilities," Rogan says. "But after that… likely Alderra."
Marissa straightens slightly. "The Fourth Layer."
Rogan nods. "Yeah. The care here isn't enough for what he needs long-term. His body is damaged all over. If they don't move him, he'll crash again."
Marissa swallows hard. "He's going to live."
"It looks like it," Rogan says.
The stretcher starts moving, medics guiding it carefully through the broken street, yelling for people to move out of the way.
I take a step forward instinctively, but Rogan holds out an arm, stopping me gently.
"Let them work," he says. "We'll follow at a distance."
We walk behind them, weaving through the crowd.
The relief around us is real. People are hugging. Hunters are sitting down in the rubble, heads bowed, breathing hard. Some are staring at the sky like they still can't believe the red light is gone.
I hear someone say, "The Top Five… I saw them."
"I didn't even see their faces. Just light."
"It was over in a second."
I don't care about any of that right now.
All I care about is the back of Dagian's head on the stretcher, the bandages wrapping his torso, the quiet beep of the equipment telling everyone he's still here.
We eventually reach a more open area where people are gathering—organized now, like the hunters are finally taking control of the chaos. There are medics set up near broken walls, civilians being directed toward safer zones, wounded hunters sitting in rows with bandages and splints.
Rogan leads us away from the immediate crush of bodies, toward a spot where we can breathe.
Marissa's shoulders sag the second we stop.
I don't realize how tense I've been until I stop moving. My legs feel weak. My hands are still shaking.
Rogan glances between us. "You two okay?"
Marissa answers first, voice low. "No."
Rogan doesn't pretend that's wrong. He nods once.
"I'm sorry," he says simply.
I look up at him.
"I didn't know he was like that," I say quietly.
"Like what."
"That strong," I say. "That… willing."
Rogan breathes out. "Dagian always took his job seriously."
I nod because I've seen that side of him. The quiet seriousness. The way he watches everything like he's already predicting what could go wrong.
But this—
This was something else.
"He jumped in front of it," I whisper. "He saved everyone. He cut it."
Rogan's expression tightens. "Yeah. He did."
Marissa's voice trembles. "He shouldn't have had to."
"No," Rogan agrees. "But he did."
For a moment, none of us speak.
The background noise is quieter here, but it's still there. Crying. Relief. Orders being shouted. Medics calling for supplies.
Then I hear it—another kind of noise.
A rumble of people reacting.
Gasps. A sudden hush spreading like something heavy dropped in the middle of the crowd. I see heads turning. I see hunters straightening like they just got caught slouching.
Rogan's posture changes instantly. "Stay close," he says.
We move toward the source of the reaction, weaving between people.
Then I see her.
She stands in the open like she belongs there, like the ruins are just scenery around her. Pale hair falls neatly down her back, not messy, not tangled. Her clothes are clean compared to everyone else's, and even if they weren't, it wouldn't matter. It's not about appearance.
It's her presence.
People are bowing.
Not everyone—some are frozen, too shocked to move—but enough that it's obvious this is something serious.
I don't know her.
But I know she matters the second I see everyone else reacting.
Someone whispers behind me, "Calexis Kingswell."
Another voice answers, shaky, "Ranked One."
Ranked One.
My stomach drops.
She moves with calm steps toward where Dagian is being treated. The medics around him pause, then step aside like they don't even consider arguing.
Calexis looks down at him.
Her face is cold. Not angry. Not sad.
Just… blunt. Like emotion is optional and she chose not to use it.
"So," she says, voice clear, carrying without effort. "I wondered which hunter stood alone against the Imgrel."
She pauses, eyes narrowing slightly.
"I should have known it was the quiet hunter."
Some hunters nearby glance at each other, like they know exactly what she means. Like Dagian's reputation is already a thing here.
Calexis raises her hand.
A weapon forms — a double-sided pole blade, sleek and long, edges sharp enough to look unreal. It doesn't appear with a flash or drama. It just exists, like it was always supposed to be there.
She places it across Dagian's body gently, almost like laying a blanket.
Light spreads outward.
A shield forms around him — translucent, clean, strong. It wraps him completely, like a protective bubble.
The medics stare.
Rogan's eyes widen slightly — not fear, but respect.
Calexis straightens and turns her gaze slowly across the ruins of Evervale. She looks like she's memorizing the damage.
Then her eyes land on Marissa.
Calexis walks toward us through the crowd.
People move out of the way instantly. Some bow as she passes. Some hold their breath. It's like the whole area knows the rules when she arrives.
She stops in front of Marissa.
"Mrs. Solmaris," Calexis says.
Marissa stiffens, then nods. "Yes."
"I will be taking you and the boy to Alderra," Calexis says. "His body requires treatment this layer cannot provide."
Marissa's voice is quiet but steady. "Whatever you need."
Calexis's gaze flicks toward me.
Marissa notices immediately.
She gestures to me gently. "And her… if it's allowed. She's under my care right now."
Calexis looks at me.
Not casually.
Directly.
Like she's inspecting something.
I swallow hard.
The moment her eyes settle on me, I feel that pressure again deep in my chest — the same strange stirring I felt before, but stronger. It's like my body is reacting to her presence without asking my permission.
I don't like it.
I don't like feeling like something inside me wants to flare up.
My fingers curl unconsciously at my sides.
Calexis doesn't move closer, but it still feels like she's right in front of my face.
Her gaze is cold.
Judging.
I try to keep my expression normal. I try to look like a regular girl who doesn't have anything strange inside her.
But my heart is pounding, and I can feel that warmth building in my arms, faint but real.
Calexis tilts her head slightly.
For a second, I think she knows.
I think she's going to say something that changes everything.
Then she speaks.
"She may come," Calexis says, tone flat. Like she just approved a request for extra luggage.
Marissa lets out a breath like she didn't realize she was holding it.
I do too, but mine comes out shaky.
Calexis turns slightly, already done with the conversation.
"We leave immediately," she says.
Rogan steps forward, voice respectful. "Ranked One. The gate area is crowded. We can clear a path."
Calexis nods once. "Do it."
Rogan turns, barking orders to nearby hunters. They move fast, forming a route through the crowd, guiding civilians away, making space. People react instantly, like the entire district still has enough discipline left to follow commands.
Marissa reaches for my hand.
I grab it without thinking.
Her palm is warm. Slightly trembling.
"You okay?" she whispers.
I nod even though I'm not sure what "okay" means anymore.
We begin moving.
Dagian's stretcher comes first, shielded and protected, medics still working around him as they walk. Calexis follows near the front, and everyone parts for her like she's a knife through water.
Rogan stays close too, keeping people back.
I keep my eyes on Dagian.
He's still unconscious.
But he's breathing.
I can see it now, clearer than before.
His chest rises and falls steadily beneath the bandages.
My throat tightens again, and I swallow hard, forcing myself not to cry again in front of everyone.
We pass streets that look destroyed beyond repair. Whole buildings are split open. Walls are gone. People stand in front of piles of rubble that used to be homes, staring like their brains can't process it yet.
Some people are screaming names.
Some are silent.
Some are holding bodies.
It makes my stomach twist, and I stay close to Marissa because I don't know where else to put my eyes.
We finally reach the area near the Gate of Layers.
It's huge — larger than I expected. There are towering stone frames, ancient-looking, etched with patterns that glow faintly. Hunters stand all around it, directing movement. Medics run in and out. Civilians cluster together, holding bundles, children, pets, whatever they managed to grab when the world started ending.
I hear someone say, "We're really going up?"
Another replies, "They're letting us. Just for now."
The air near the gate feels strange. Like it's thinner. Like there's a hum in the air you can't hear with your ears but you feel it in your teeth.
Calexis walks up without hesitation.
She stops near the gate, glances back once, then speaks to the hunters stationed there.
"Open it."
They don't question her.
They move immediately, hands going to mechanisms and embedded crystals. Light begins to gather along the frame, brightening slowly. The hum deepens.
Marissa squeezes my hand.
"This is going to feel weird," she whispers.
"Have you done this before?" I ask.
Marissa nods faintly. "A long time ago. Not like this."
I look down at Dagian.
He's going with us.
I don't know what that means. I don't know what Alderra really looks like. I've heard Dagian mention it once or twice, but I never thought I'd actually see it.
I glance at Calexis.
She stands still, waiting, face unreadable. Like she isn't bothered by the destruction around us at all.
I don't know how someone can be that calm.
Maybe you have to be, if you're Ranked One.
The gate's light grows stronger until it becomes a bright, open shimmer — like a doorway made out of glowing air.
People nearby gasp quietly.
Some start crying again, not from fear this time, but relief.
Rogan turns to us. "Stay close. Don't stop once you step in."
Marissa nods.
I nod too.
The stretcher rolls forward first.
Dagian disappears into the light.
My heart lurches like I'm watching him vanish.
Marissa grips my hand harder, pulling me gently forward.
Calexis steps through like it's nothing.
Rogan follows.
Then it's us.
I take one last look back at Evervale — at the smoke, the broken buildings, the stunned faces, the wounded hunters, the people searching rubble for family.
It feels unreal that this is where I was living just hours ago.
Then Marissa pulls me forward, and the light swallows us.