Senti's POV
The storm came early that morning.
Rain hammered the rooftops, washing the smoke from Vale's skyline, but no storm could clean what I'd done.
The city still smelled like burnt Dust and gunmetal.
I hadn't gone far from the docks — couldn't. Every time I tried, my body turned back on its own, like gravity remembered something I didn't want to.
She'd been there.
After all the years, after all the blood, she'd found me again.
Blake.
Even saying her name in my head hurt. The sound didn't fit right anymore — too gentle for the world I lived in.
She'd looked at me like I was a stranger.
Worse — like I was proof that her nightmares had grown up and learned her name.
I sat against a warehouse wall, the rain dripping off my coat in steady rhythm. My swords lay beside me, still humming faintly, the edges warm from Aura resonance.
The reflection in the puddle was wrong again. It smiled when I didn't.
"You saw her run," it whispered.
I didn't answer.
"You didn't stop her."
"I couldn't."
"That's not true."
I looked down at the water, watching the faint shimmer of gold run through the red of my Aura, rippling out in small waves.
"She was afraid of me," I said quietly.
The reflection tilted its head. "She was afraid of what you showed her. You always wanted her to see you — really see you."
"I didn't want her to see this."
"Liar."
I closed my eyes. The laughter came first — high, broken, and too bright to be sane.
Then the voice behind it, soft and coaxing, like a knife whispering against my ear.
"You liked it, didn't you? The way she said your name. The way it hurt."
I pressed my palms to my head. "Stop."
"You want her to chase you again."
"I said stop."
"Or maybe you just want her to understand."
My hands shook. I couldn't tell if it was cold or rage.
By the time the rain eased, the world had gone red around the edges — Aura leaking faint light through the cracks in my control.
I stood and picked up the swords, sheathing them with slow precision, pretending the act itself meant something.
The Reflection appeared again in the warehouse window, faintly distorted through the glass.
"Is this who you wanted to be?" it asked.
I laughed under my breath — a small, tired sound. "I don't even know what I wanted anymore."
"Then maybe that's your freedom."
"Freedom?" I asked. "You call this freedom?"
"Of course. No chains, no guilt, no fear. You burn what hurts you and call it justice."
I turned away, voice low. "I don't want to burn anymore."
"Then stop surviving."
The Reflection vanished when I blinked, but its words stayed, heavy as ash in my throat.
The wind off the sea cut through the alley, bringing the faint smell of salt and fire.
I remembered the heat of her Aura that night — the shimmer of violet light when she'd fought beside that blond boy.
She'd grown stronger.
I'd just gotten worse.
I wanted to laugh again but couldn't. The sound wouldn't come out.
When I reached the safehouse, I didn't light the lamp. The room was already full of ghosts.
Every surface reflected some version of me — in the window glass, the polished steel, the blade edges stacked in the corner.
A thousand Senti's, all smiling differently.
The one in the mirror spoke first.
"She's not done with you."
"She shouldn't come back," I said.
"She will."
"And then?"
The reflection's eyes glowed faint gold. "Then we'll show her everything she taught us about love and mercy."
I laughed again, softly this time. "That sounds like a threat."
"No," the reflection said. "It's a promise."
The glass trembled — not from my Aura, but from something inside it, like the image wanted out.
I turned away before it could ask for more.
Outside, thunder rolled over the city, deep and low.
I rested a hand against the wall and felt the pulse of my Aura still running hot beneath my skin — red laced with gold, bright and broken, a storm that wouldn't die.
And somewhere beneath it all, I could still hear her voice.
Blake's.
Soft, desperate, human.
It made me want to scream.
It made me want to live.
I didn't know which urge would win.