Chapter 16 — The Fracture
Morning light sifted through the canopy, pale and uncertain, as if the forest itself hadn't decided whether to wake. The trio stood before the next sector of their exam — a rough incline leading into a denser cluster of trees, shrouded in dew and mist.
Gabriel's voice had echoed earlier through the comms: "This section tests your adaptability. Not everything can be planned. Remember that."
Alex heard it replaying in her head like a dare. Adaptability. Easy word. Harder to live up to.
She pulled her gloves tighter, scanning the path ahead. "So… same plan," she said briskly. "Anna on lookout, Raymond clears path, I—"
"You lead," Anna finished gently, already watching her. "You always do."
Alex forced a grin. "I try."
Raymond chuckled low. "Yeah, and sometimes too hard."
The jab was harmless, but it landed like a blow. Alex only hummed, pretending not to hear the sting behind it.
---
They moved.
The forest floor was uneven, roots like veins pulsing beneath damp earth. Their boots left soft impressions — for a moment — before the ground seemed to swallow them whole. Raymond noticed it first.
"Hey—our footprints," he murmured. "They're fading again."
Anna bent down, frowning. "How? The ground's solid. Shouldn't just—"
"Maybe it's the mist," Alex cut in quickly. "Let's move before we lose daylight."
The urgency in her voice wasn't about the exam anymore. She just wanted to keep doing something, anything, before her thoughts caught up to her.
They kept climbing.
But the forest was not still. Whispers threaded through the air, light as wind, heavy as memory. The further they went, the quieter everything became. Even the birds seemed to hold their breath.
---
They reached the ridge after nearly an hour, breath visible in the cold. The checkpoint marker — a small blue flag embedded in the soil — waved weakly. Alex approached it and scanned the surroundings.
"Time check?" Raymond asked, wiping his brow.
"Eleven minutes faster than the last group," Anna replied, glancing at the device clipped to her wrist. "We're doing fine."
"Fine?" Alex repeated, kneeling beside the flag. "We're barely ahead. That's—"
"Still ahead," Raymond interrupted with a small smile. "Relax, Ace."
"Don't call me that," she muttered.
He raised his brows, confused. "What? It's a compliment."
"It's a lie," she snapped before she could stop herself. "I mess up half the time, and the other half, I just… pretend I know what I'm doing."
Silence. The kind that carried weight.
Anna's voice came quiet but steady. "Alex, that's not—"
"Let's keep moving," Alex said, standing abruptly. "We're wasting time."
---
They descended the other side of the ridge, but Alex's steps grew erratic. Her rhythm faltered. She stumbled on a rock she should've seen. Missed a handhold she should've known was there. Each slip carved a small wound in her pride.
Focus. Come on, Alex. Pull it together.
Anna's voice called softly from behind. "Slow down a bit."
"I'm fine!"
"You're not," Raymond said firmly. "You're pushing too hard."
The words came like a strike to her chest. A part of her wanted to scream that she had to push — because if she stopped, everything would fall apart.
But instead she just clenched her fists. "I said I'm fine."
---
By midday, fatigue began to fray their edges. They reached a shallow creek cutting through the path. Anna crouched to test the depth. "We'll need to cross here. Stones are slick."
"I'll go first," Raymond said, stepping in. His boots splashed softly.
Alex followed, trying to match his pace. Halfway through, her boot slipped. She flailed, catching herself on a branch — barely. The branch snapped, water splashing up her leg.
"Alex!" Anna's voice rose, sharp.
"I said I'm fine!" she barked again — too loud this time. Even the water seemed to hush around her.
Raymond's hand hovered near her shoulder, then dropped. "You don't have to do everything perfectly."
She froze.
That word — perfectly — twisted something inside her chest. She laughed, a hollow, bitter sound. "You think I'm trying to be perfect?"
Anna's gaze softened, cautious. "Aren't you?"
Alex's breath hitched. "No. I'm trying not to be a disappointment."
The confession slipped out, raw and trembling. The creek gurgled on, uncaring.
Raymond opened his mouth to respond, but Alex was already moving again — out of the water, through the brush, anywhere but here.
---
The forest darkened as the sun dipped lower. Anna trailed close behind, heart twisting. She wanted to reach out, to anchor Alex, but didn't know how to do it without breaking her further.
Then Alex stumbled again — this time on nothing. Her breath came shallow, harsh. She pressed a hand to her neck where her mark faintly pulsed, hidden under her collar.
A whisper — Not good enough.
Another — She did it better.
Voices from memory, not from the forest.
"Alex—" Anna started.
"Don't." Alex's voice cracked. "Please, just—don't."
She sank to her knees, head bowing low. Her body trembled like she was holding back something volcanic. "I'm so tired of failing," she whispered. "No matter what I do, it's never enough. My parents… my mentors… even myself. Every time I think I've got it, I ruin it again."
Anna knelt beside her, silent. She didn't offer comfort — just presence.
Raymond crouched on Alex's other side, grounding her with his stillness. "You don't have to prove anything to us."
"But I do!" Alex's voice broke entirely now. "If I'm not perfect, what's the point? What's left of me if I'm not the one holding everything together?"
The forest shivered.
Leaves rustled without wind.
The air thickened.
Anna's hand moved instinctively to her chest where her wolf mark burned faintly, like recognition.
Raymond's gaze darted around. "What's happening—?"
Before he could finish, the ground beneath them trembled. A pulse — faint but deep — rolled through the soil.
Alex gasped, clutching her neck. The mark there glowed faintly, golden and trembling, searing against her skin. She bit back a cry.
Anna reached for her, but the light dimmed almost instantly — as if the forest had exhaled and gone still again.
They froze.
"Was that—" Raymond began.
"Not now," Anna said quietly, eyes scanning the shifting canopy. "Not yet."
Alex lifted her head slowly, tears streaking her face, but her eyes—those storm-blue eyes—were steadier. Hollow, maybe. But not lost.
"I'm sorry," she whispered.
Anna shook her head. "Don't be. Just… breathe."
---
Far away, near the observation station, Gabriel stood by the monitors. The readings spiked once, sharp and brief.
Claire joined him, expression unreadable. "They're close."
He nodded. "Closer than they realize."
Her gaze lingered on the fading pulse on the screen. "The forest recognized her."
"Not just her," Gabriel murmured. "All three of them."