Arien's POV
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I used to believe that strength came from surviving.
From not dying.
From standing back up when the world stomped you down.
But that was before I realized…
Surviving is the easy part.
Strength isn't just about dragging your broken self forward.
It's about dragging others, too.
When their legs give out.
When their voices falter.
When they look at you and think, "If she's still going… maybe I can too."
Strength is a burden.
A sacred one.
And I carry it.
Because if I don't —
No one else will.
---
We were still in the human world.
Or what was left of it.
Skies bled rust. The wind groaned like it remembered happier days. And beneath our feet, the ground crackled with scars — burnt, brittle, and broken.
We walked across the field where the old temple once stood. Now it was just ash and silence. The pulse had hit three nights ago. A wave of raw energy. Reality buckling at the seams.
Trees had fallen.
Stone had wept.
Time had hesitated.
And for three full seconds — only three — the sky opened.
It ripped.
And something looked back.
---
"Arien," Hana whispered, her voice barely more than a breath. "You haven't slept again, have you?"
She always asked like that. Softly. Kindly. As if afraid I'd crack if she pressed harder.
I didn't respond. Just adjusted the strap of my bag and kept walking.
But I heard her anyway.
I heard the worry. The fear.
They all thought I was holding it together.
But I wasn't.
Not really.
I was holding it all in.
---
Because I had seen what lay beyond the tear.
Eyes.
Hundreds.
Some human.
Some… formerly.
And one.
Just one.
It moved with me.
It blinked when I blinked.
It smiled when I stared.
And in that moment, I felt something click behind my ribs — like a key turning in a lock I didn't know I had.
The demon… knew me.
And I think I knew it, too.
---
"Food's running low," said Jisoo, his voice stiff with frustration. "We need to move. This ground's cursed."
He wasn't wrong.
But we were so close.
"One more day," I said.
"The barrier's cracking," he said. "The glyph's failing. You can't patch it alone."
"I'll seal it."
"You'll die doing it."
I met his eyes.
"Then I'll die standing."
---
When the others slept — if they slept — I moved alone. Out beyond the edge of the field. Past the last standing statue, now split at the waist.
I knelt in the ash, drew the glyph circle with chalk and blood, and activated the seal.
> [Emergency Training Gate: PULSE MODE]
It burned white. Not with heat, but intention.
Not pain. Purpose.
Inside that chamber of bent time, I trained.
I bled.
I screamed into the silence.
Every swing of my blade was a prayer.
Every drop of sweat was a promise.
They will not die.
Not like the others.
Not again.
---
"Overdoing it again?"
I turned, panting.
Hana.
She stood in the dark, barefoot, her eyes shining with tears she hadn't let fall.
"I'm not doing enough," I said, voice hoarse.
"You've been saying that since day two."
She stepped closer, brushing hair from my face.
"You've saved us, Arien. You've led when no one else could. You keep carrying this flame like you're not allowed to stop burning."
I looked up at the sky.
I didn't know what I was searching for.
Maybe that crack. Maybe her.
Maybe me.
"No," I whispered. "Something saw me last night. And it knew me."
She looked afraid now. Not of the demon.
Of me.
And she wasn't wrong.
Because I wasn't just Arien anymore.
---
When had I changed?
When did I stop flinching at the sight of blood?
When did I learn to walk with fire on my skin and not scream?
When did they start calling me "Leader" and stop calling me "Friend"?
I didn't remember.
But I felt it.
Like something ancient had slipped inside me during the tear.
Not possession.
Not corruption.
More like… recognition.
As if some part of me had always been this.
This burning thing.
This Shepherd.
---
The third night came.
The wind changed.
And something fell from the sky.
A single black petal.
It drifted down like snow — delicate, slow — until it landed silently on the cracked earth.
And then time shivered.
Air split.
The sky parted.
And it stepped through.
---
The demon was tall — impossibly so.
Not grotesque. Not beastly.
Beautiful. Horrible. Regal.
Its face was carved in shadows and elegance.
Its eyes held galaxies.
Its crown… bone.
Its cloak… scripture. Words stitched in forgotten tongues, writhing softly.
It didn't attack.
It observed.
And it spoke.
> "Little Shepherd," it said, voice like velvet soaked in smoke. "You guard them well. But the story ends the same." "All lambs must be culled. Even you."
I didn't flinch.
I raised my hand.
The glyph pulsed, alive with fury.
But it was already gone.
Vanished like fog in the sun.
Only scent remained.
Burning jasmine.
And blood.
---
Back at camp, I stood above my students.
They were sleeping — all of them.
Tired. Dirty. Wounded.
But alive.
Because I told them to be.
Because I fought for it.
Because I bled for it.
I looked at each of them. Memorized their faces. Their little twitches. Their breathing.
Because if that thing came back…
If it chose to end them…
It would have to go through me.
---
I sat at the edge of the firelight and pulled out the cracked mirror from the temple ruins.
The last thing left of the old world.
I stared into it.
And I didn't see myself.
I saw her.
The one with eyes like flares.
The one who stood on bones and fire.
The one the demon recognized.
> The Shepherd.
Chosen to lead.
Chosen to decide.
Chosen to stand between two worlds and bear the weight of both.
---
I pressed my hand to the mirror.
Felt the coldness bite.
And I whispered:
"I'm not afraid of you."
But my voice cracked.
Just a little.
And I didn't know if I was speaking to the demon…
…or myself.
---