Page 125 of Property of Scar

Her head lifts, and that shouldn’t be possible. There’s nothing left in her that should be capable of that kind of control, not after what’s been done to her, not after what Mordain’s poison has spent years carving into her from the inside. But she does it anyway, dragging the movement out of a body that is already giving up on her, forcing it inch by inch until her eyes find mine.

Everything in me locks when it happens.

Because for a second… just a second, she is there.

Not the broken thing the poison turned her into. Not the aftermath of the rampage. Her. The person I knew. The one I failed.

It hits hard, something in my chest cracking open under the weight of it. I try to close the distance faster, to reach her before this plays out the way it always does, but my body doesn’t move any quicker for it.

It never does.

Her mouth moves.

The first sound catches, barely more than breath, the broken beginning of my name dragged through a throat that can’t support it anymore. My hands curl into fists as I push forward, because I already know what she’s trying to say.

I’ve heard it too many times not to.

I don’t want to hear it again.

The second syllable follows anyway, landing exactly where it always does, cutting straight through everything I’ve built over it. It settles deep, sharp as ever, untouched by time.

‘Thank you.’

She thanked me. For ending it. For ending her.

The ground fractures under my boots as I force my way toward her, frost splitting outward in jagged lines that turn every step unstable. It doesn’t matter. I push through it anyway, because there is no version of this where I stop moving.

She’s still on her knees when I reach her, though it’s a fragile thing, something her body can’t hold for much longer. I see it in the way her shoulders fold inward, in the tremor running through her hands where they press against the ground, as if the strength that once held her upright has finally burned out.

I drop in front of her without thinking, catching her as she starts to fall. The contact hits harder than it should. She’s still warm, solid, and here, and for a fraction of a second, that alone is enough to make something in me resist what I already know is coming.

“A-Astrid…” Her name breaks under the weight of everything. There’s nothing I can say that hasn’t come too late.

Her head lifts again, the effort brutal to watch, her focus dragging itself into place until her eyes lock onto mine.

Recognition comes first, and it hits with a force that locks something tight in my chest, because I know how quickly it will be gone again if I let this continue.

My grip tightens on her without thought, like I can hold her here by sheer force, like I can anchor her to this moment if I refuse to let go. For a second, I let myself want it, to stay here, just long enough to pretend there’s another way this ends.

But there isn’t.

I have always known that.

Her mouth moves again, the sound catching as it fights its way out of a body that is already failing her. I know what’s coming before it fully forms.

I don’t want this moment to finish the way it always does.

But wanting has never changed anything here.

My hand moves, slower than it should, heavier than it has ever felt, the hilt of the blade settling into my grip with a weight that presses through every part of me. There’s no distance left to hide behind. I feel all of it, every implication, every consequence, as I bring it into position.

“I’m here,” I manage, the words low and unsteady.

Her eyes don’t leave mine.

There’s no fear in them. She knows exactly what I’m about to do, and she lets me.

But that’s what breaks me.