And then there was Dragonfly. She didn’t believe either. They’d argued over it more than once. She said the world was random and brutal and gorgeous in ways no god would bother to explain. “If the gods ran everything,” she’d said once, eyes burning, “the world wouldn’t be such a mess. Bad people would suffer more. Good people wouldn’t die in fires or drown in floods. Besides, just read the old stories—gods are just as selfish as we are.”
Maybe she wasn’t wrong. But if Collin didn’t believe insomething—if there was no design, no rhythm, no unseen thread—then life was just chaos. What comfort was there in that? Belief gave him shape, helped him face a world that spun too fast and burned too bright.
He would keep believing, at least for now. For as long as it still made sense.
Movement, bright and yellow fluttering in the breeze caught Collin’s eye—a handkerchief, tied neatly to a low-hanging branch.
Aries spotted it at the same time. “I wonder who left this behind,” he said, tugging the knot loose with careless ease.
“Who knows.” Collin checked his watch and winced. “We better hurry. I’ve got to teach this afternoon, and I still need to get home and wash the ocean off me.”
“Good call,” Aries said, nudging a pebble down the path with his boot. “I doubt either of us smells particularly civilized right now.”
Collin snorted and picked up his pace. “I haven’t done laundry in... let’s just say it's past the point of confession. I’m praying something in that pile still qualifies as clean.”
“If not,” Aries said, grinning, “go with whatever already smells like it’s survived an adventure.”
“As long as it’s dry, it’s hired,” Collin muttered.
They broke into a jog. Neither could afford to miss work. When the trail narrowed, Aries’s long legs kept him ahead. On the wider stretches, they ran shoulder to shoulder. The first few strides were brutal, but once he found his rhythm, Collin pushed through. Sweat poured from his brow, streaked down his back, soaked the collar of his shirt. He was drenched in minutes. God help anyone stuck in a room with him today—he reeked like sea rot and sunburnt regrets.
They’d been jogging the narrow, winding trail for a while now. The ground was uneven, the bends sharp, and their pace had slowed to a cautious lope. Aries was several yards ahead, barely winded. Collin’s legs burned with every stride, but he bit down on the ache and refused to be the one to call for a break. Pride and stubbornness pushed him forward—maybe, just maybe, Aries would tire out first.
A sharp crack split the air.
Collin flinched, his pulse snapping to attention.
Another burst—a pop, a crackle—branches snapping all at once.
He spun around, instinctive and wild-eyed. A cloud of dust blasted into his face. He staggered back, choking, coughing, his arms flailing to shield his stinging eyes.
Up ahead—another harsh snap, then Aries’s cry, sharp with panic and pain.
Collin staggered forward blindly, terror rising in his throat. What was happening? Where was Aries?
Another explosion, closer now. Leaves, dirt, twigs, pebbles—all of it slammed into his skin. A small stone struck his forehead, sending a yelp of pain tearing from his throat. The scent of fire—charred wood and something unfamiliar, sharp and chemical—seeped thickly into the air. He didn’t know why, but the smell terrified him.
He couldn’t move—but he couldn’t stay still.
“Aries? Where are you? Say something!”
Aries’s coughing voice came from somewhere nearby, too close to be unseen, but the haze was blinding.
A hand grabbed Collin’s shoulder.
He nearly jumped out of his skin—but it was Aries.
Collin staggered to his feet, tripping over Aries’s legs. The smoke stung his lungs and seared his throat. Gasping and gagging, the boys clung to each other, disoriented.
“What’s happening?”
“I don’t care! Just run!” Aries yanked Collin forward.
“I can’t see!”
It didn’t matter. Explosions thundered around them. Light and shadow danced in the smoke, disorienting. Which way was forward? Which way was back?
“Wait! Stop!” Collin choked out. But Aries dragged him faster, shoving him over a prickly bush. Brambles tore Collin’s arms and legs as he stumbled through. The dust was thinning now, ghostly trees emerging from the fog, but the dread only thickened.
