Time slowed significantly as a bright flash of green fire hurtled towards Maya. The ground slipped away beneath her feet. In her fall, she instinctively covered her head and hair as the licker of fire collided with the brick wall behind her.

  A dull explosion echoed, leaving a blackened scorch mark. Smoke spread over their heads with spraying dust.

  Maya caught her breath. “What the heck, Fey!?” Her eyes snapped to the charred wall, the fading embers hissed in the air. “I can’t believe you just—”

  “I said leave!”

  Fey lunged forward.

  Maya barely dodged back inside the apartment, watching as Fey’s bad leg gave out. She tripped over the ledge between the balcony and bedroom, unable to catch herself.

  With a heavy thud, she faceplanted onto the ground. And then, she just remained prone there.

  Maya sat stunned on the ground, keeping her distance. She expected Fey to act erratically—to lash out, to yell—but not outright attacking her.

  Maya had come to apologise—to check on Fey, to try and help. Instead, she was greeted with fury. Maya clenched her ist, she had half a mind to turn back and leave.

  She stood up, backing away further, but then, there was sobbing.

  Maya faltered by the door.

  Fey was crying.

  Hesitance followed Maya as she cautiously approached Fey, kneeling beside her. Her hand tentatively rubbed her back in slow, soothing circles. “Talk to me, Fey,” she said. “This isn’t you.”

  Fey choked, releasing a wet, broken breath. “This is me.” Fey covered her head. “This has been me for a long time.”

  Fey broke into incoherent sobbing, muffled against the crook of her arm. Maya frowned, slid her hand under Fey’s arm, lifting her up from the ground.

  She let herself be pulled onto her bed, curling up and covering her face with her pink pillow.

  Maya sighed, leaning back against the headboard. Missy curled up on her collarbone, looking down at Fey.

  This wasn’t how Maya expected to spend her Thursday Evening. She missed Val—the warmth of her embrace and the comfort of just being with her. But Fey’s well-being took priority.

  Maya stared at the ceiling, at the kale-green wallpaper, thinking.

  She had known Fey for a long time, but only recently she started to truly get to know her.

  Fey was a curiosity—spotting opportunities in chaos, always grinning with mischief, and always giving Maya a dead stare whenever she made a pun. She loved gymnastics and lettering, adored Mays and Septembers because they were the best seasons for watermelons—her favourite fruit.

  But there was a shadow in her. One Maya couldn’t really place. With grudges that never faded.

  She was vindictive to her core—so much so that over a stupid argument about whether watermelons were a fruit or berry, they didn’t write for over a year.

  Fey shifted slightly. Her good leg bent at the knee, foot planted against the mattress, while the other remained limp, trembling uncontrollably.

  She gripped her thigh, trying to force the shaking to stop.

  Maya’s brow furrowed. “Fey, it’s your leg again, isn’t it?”

  Fey’s voice trembled. “...Get me the bottle from my drawer.” Her trembling finger pointed at her drawer beside her. “Please… and don’t ask.”

  Maya hesitated. Fey never asked for help. At least, never like this. It was completely unfamiliar to the way Fey usually portrayed herself.

  She was just utterly vulnerable.

  Without a word, Maya reached over, pulled open the drawer, and retrieved the small pill bottle. Fey unscrewed the cap and popped a pill into her mouth with practised motions.

  Her hand trembled slightly as she set the bottle aside.

  “It’s bad today,” she confessed, resting the back of her hand on her forehead. “Like, really bad.”

  Maya hugged her knees, listening. Fey’s eyes were red and swollen when she turned over, staring blankly at the ceiling.

  “Some days, it’s barely noticeable. On others, like today, it’s excruciating.” Fey curled over, hiding her face in Maya’s leg, shuddering slow breaths. “I told you how it happened, did I?”

  Maya reached out, running a hand through Fey’s tangled hair. “Giants, wasn’t it?”

  That detail didn’t sit right with her. Remembering Austin was one, too.

  “It was a Thursday,” she muttered. “A normal day like any other. I spent my after school training. I loved it, but on my way home, that one giant ruined my life.”

  Her long fingers dug into Maya’s leg, nails pressing hard into the fabric. Maya didn’t flinch and kept stroking Fey’s head to soothe her.

  “My leg’s a mess,” she whispered. “And they nearly had to cut it off.” Her grip tightened on her thigh, which started to convulse uncontrollably. She held onto Maya even tighter. “It hurts so much. And it rarely stops,” she choked out.

  “My mom and grandma tried everything—every spell, every prayer to Freyja—but nothing worked.” Fey’s breath hitched. Her hand clenched tighter. “I lost everything. My dream of being a gymnast—gone. And what was left of me was just this crippled anger eating me up from inside.”

  Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  Maya found herself suddenly pulled closer. Fey grabbed her shirt with eyes wild with emotion—desperation, pain, guilt. “I’m sorry I lashed out at you. I’m so sorry for all the times I hurt you. It’s not an excuse, but I- I don’t know what to do or how to stop. I try, I really do, but I– I–”

  She collapsed into choking sobs, her grip tightened as she buried her face in Maya’s chest. Maya breath caught. She tried to pull free to get some semblance of freedom, but Fey clung to her hard.

  Like she was the last thing keeping her from falling apart completely.

  “Fey—”

  “I hate them!” Fey cried, gritting her teeth as anger bubbled back up inside her green eyes. “I hate my family for not understanding my pain. I hate the giants for ruining my life, but do you know who I hate the most?”

  Maya’s chest tightened. Fey’s distraught was close. So close.

  “I hate myself.” Her voice cracked. “I hate myself for lashing out. For not being able to control my anger.”

  Her fingers twisted into Maya’s clothes, clutching like a lifeline. Her last lifeline. The last thing that prevented her from snapping.

  “Please, please, please… please” Fey sobbed, fingers tangling on Maya. “Don’t leave me because of this.”

  Maya didn’t know what to do or say. Begging so desperately for forgiveness was not Fey’s way.

  Maybe the spell hasn’t hit. Maybe she wasn’t physically hurt. Even when Fey apologised to her repeatedly, it didn’t change the fact that Fey’s anger nearly injured someone badly.

  Despite that, Maya’s arms remained wrapped around her, stroking her back in soothing circles. What was she to do when someone was so vulnerable? So raw?

  Like a child in need of healing. And therapy—lots of that.

  As she rocked Fey in her arms, Maya took a slow breath. “Do you think leaving your family was the right call?” she murmured into Fey’s ear. “They worry about you, don’t they?”

  Fey shuddered, resting her ear against Maya’s heartbeat. “I know they care… but I had to.” Her voice cracked. “The arguments, the constant shouting, feeling like I was drowning in a swamp I could never escape… I couldn’t do it anymore.”

  “But what are you gonna do now, Fey?” Maya asked. “This pain won't go away with some comforting words from me. And as your friend, I have to be honest—I doubt I’m qualified to help you with this. I will try my best to help you, but understand, I don’t want you to hurt me again. Accident or not.”

  Fey hesitated, then slowly pulled away from Maya’s embrace. She leaned back at her bed and rested her head on Maya’s shoulder. Maya laced her fingers over Fey’s and rubbed with her thumb over her knuckles.

  “My family…” Fey murmured, voice hoarse. “They disapproved of me mastering necromancy. Called it a perversion of the true order. It was a thorny subject for years.”

  Maya huffed. “Your zombies are plenty scary—but also kinda funny.” Maya chuckle died quickly, remembering the trio that always accompanied Fey wherever she went. “You can’t walk without them, do you?”

  “Not well, no,” Fey sighed. “Using them to get around easier was a lucky accident. The main reason I learned necromancy wasn’t survival—it was… revenge.”

  Recognition flashed in Fey’ eyes. The border between survival and pain had vanished a long time ago. Her anger had driven her to extremes, and only now, when she almost burned her one true remaining friend, did she recognise it.

  Her grip tightened around Maya’s fingers. Her lips quivered. “I think… I think I need therapy, Maya.”

  Maya took her other hand and laid over Fey’s, messaging the joints.

  “Pushing away everyone who loves you, losing your dream, and practising forbidden magic?” Maya raised a brow, looking Fey deadpan in the eyes. “Gurl, you should have booked yourself a therapist yesterday.”

  Fey laughed meekly, her lips twitched at the corners. “I know.” She swallowed. “I’m a terrible friend.”

  Maya shrugged. “You’re unstable at best.”

  Fey stared at her. “Not helping.”

  “But I know you can do better.” Maya squeezed her hands. “I’ve seen it, Fey. You’re a lot stronger than you believe you are. You just need help. Professional help.”

  Maya squeezed her hand, reminding Fey that she’s grounded with her. Fey smirked weakly, heart pounding loudly on the touch.

  “Know someone? You always seem to know someone.”

  Maya grinned. “Mhm, I’ll send you the details later.”

  “Thanks Maya.”

  “Anytime.” Maya tilted her head. “Want me to cook something for you today?”

  Fey grimaced. “I don’t think I want you anywhere near appliances. I can only handle so many explosions.”

  “Rude, but true.” Maya pouted. “Do you at least want company then?”

  “...I think I’d rather be alone right now.” Fey’s shoulders sagged. “I need some time to think of what I did today, but,” Fey hesitated, “do you mind checking on me in a couple of days? If it’s not too much to ask?”

  Maya leaned in, kissing Fey’s forehead. “Only if I can take a bottle with strawberry milk home.”

  Fey smiled, feeling the butterflies churn inside her. “You’re a sly girl, you know? You know where they are.”

  Maya shrugged. “Been working here for a while. I even know where you keep your dirty magazines.”

  Fey snorted. “Speaking of them; you mind bringing me som—”

  “And that’s my cue to leave.” Maya pushed herself forward to stand up from the edge of the bed. Fey’s head flopped onto the pillow with a dramatic sigh. Stopping at the door, Maya looked back. “Take care, Fey. A shower might help to cool your head.”

  The door clicked shut. Maya was gone. And Fey alone

  Fey stared at the ceiling, lost in her thoughts. Her mind drifted to the time she was a naive teenager, sitting in bed, consumed by rebellious rage and hate as she was summoning her first Draugr.

  Not much had changed since then.

  Sure, she was older now; Still the same person as back then, but much more tired as an adult now.

  Fey ran a hand down her face, rubbing her bloodshot eyes. Missy crawled onto the bed, something clutched in her tiny jaws.

  Fey smirked at the piece of Maya’s underwear she had seized and never returned. “Good girl.” she scratched under Missy’s chin and dangled her like a noodle over her stomach. “When I look at you, all my worries just wash away.”

  She kissed her ferret’s tiny head, feeling her warmth soothing her.

  With great effort, Fey crawled up to the edge of her bed and sat up. She forgot she had left her crutch on the balcony.

  Gritting her teeth, and convinced she could do it herself, Fey tumbled forward, dragging her bad foot behind her like it was shackled to some invisible weight.

  Each step was a struggle. Her leg screamed in protest. Her mind returned to the first months when Fey had to adjust to her situation. She grit her teeth, pushed through and plopped down on the balcony, panting utterly exhausted.

  With a snap of her finger, she summoned the poor, malformed Draugr. Fey bit her lip, its grotesque form being a stark reminder of her failures.

  Not even her servants deserved this kind of treatment.

  “Bring me the love potion,” she breathed into her hands, “please.”

  Fey waited on the cold balcony, petting Missy, who decided to keep her much needed company. Soon enough, the Draugr rolled back, presenting a small bottle filled with a strawberry-pink liquid.

  Fey plopped it open, staring at the soft reflection in the liquid’s surface. Her own face stared back at her.

  “I always lectured Maya about self-love,” she murmured. “Told her how beautiful we can be… but I lied.”

  Hot tears streamed down her face and into the potion. “Unlike her, who radiates so brightly, keeping me and others from drowning—I… I can’t even bring to love… myself.”

  Her throat tightened. The adhesive she used to glue her broken shards together was coming undone.

  She brought the potion to her lips.

  If I drink this, I might just love myself just a tiny bit.

  Fey gulped, thinking back to the letters she exchanged with Maya, remembering the strength she found in them when nothing else gave her hope.

  You’re so lucky to have found someone that loves you for who you truly are.

  Finishing the drink, Fey gagged.

  “...Oh gods.” She spat, potion dripping from the corner of her mouth. “This isn’t the love potion. It tastes like actual strawberry milk.”