The air burned with ozone, sharp and metallic, clinging to every breath Cyan dragged into his lungs. Each inhale felt stolen, each exhale weaker than the last. Aris's fingers tightened around his hands—not gently, not weakly—but with desperate force, as if letting go meant vanishing altogether. Her grip was rough, ruined by cuts and burns, her skin torn and hardened by pain. It hurt to hold her.
She didn't loosen it.
"Cyan…" she whispered.
Her voice barely survived the rain.
"Promise me."
The storm answered for him. Rain crashed down harder, louder, as if the sky itself was breaking apart above them. It roared against the earth in a relentless rhythm—thousands of impacts, thousands of tiny blows—each one striking in time with Cyan's heart as it shattered piece by piece.
He shook his head violently, sobs tearing out of him in broken, animal sounds. His face twisted, swollen and raw from crying, tears pouring endlessly, cutting through mud and blood and rain until his skin felt numb beneath it all.
"No," he choked. "I won't—I won't let you go."
The words came apart as he spoke them.
Weak.
Meaningless.
Aris looked at him.
Really looked at him.
Her eyes burned—not with fear, not with regret—but with a fierce, unbearable clarity. She was already leaving, and she knew it. That knowledge sharpened her gaze, carved it into something final.
"I don't have any more time," she whispered. "Please… tell Mom and Randell what I'm about to say."
Her chest rose unevenly. The breath rattled. Shallow. Wrong.
Cyan's sobs broke loose again as understanding crushed down on him. Pain bloomed in his chest—violent, tearing—like his heart was being pulled apart from the inside. It hurt to breathe. It hurt to exist.
Aris closed her eyes briefly, gathering what little strength she had left.
"Mom…" she said softly.
"Thank you… for bringing me into this world. For raising me."
Her voice was calm. Too calm. A cruel contrast to the storm screaming around them.
"These might be my last words to you," she continued, pausing to drag in a breath that barely came. "But if I had another chance…"
Her lashes trembled.
"I would want to see you one more time. Just once."
A faint smile flickered.
"I really… really wanted to hug you again."
The rain swallowed the silence that followed. No thunder. No wind. Just water hammering the earth as Aris struggled to breathe, each rise of her chest slower than the last.
"One hug," she whispered.
"I haven't given you one in so long."
Her gaze returned to Cyan, soft now, unbearably gentle.
"There's nothing in this world," she said, voice cracking at last, "that would make me more proud… than seeing you smile."
Cyan's body shook violently. He pressed his glowing hand harder against her chest, aura flaring weakly, uselessly, the light trembling like a dying flame. He tried to quiet his sobs—tried to give her peace—but the grief tore through him again and again, unstoppable.
"And…" Aris whispered, struggling. "To my dear brother… Randell."
She coughed.
The sound was small.
Fragile.
"I know I was hard on you," she said. "From the first day of training."
A faint, tired smile touched her lips.
"But watching you grow… seeing how far you came… that was the greatest joy of my life."
Rain clung to her lashes, making her tears indistinguishable from the storm.
"I just wish," she breathed, "I could have seen you grow a little longer."
Her voice trembled.
"Fall in love."
Her body shuddered as another weak cough escaped her. Cyan bit down hard on his lip, blood spilling into the rain, his vision blurring completely. The pain inside his chest felt endless—bottomless—like drowning without water.
"I wonder," Aris whispered faintly, eyes unfocused now, drifting somewhere far away, "what it feels like… to have a sister-in-law."
A sad breath left her.
"I wish I could see you right now, brother."
A pause.
"But… even that seems impossible."
Her grip weakened.
Cyan felt it.
Panic surged violently through him as he poured every last scrap of aura he had into her, his body screaming in protest. He was losing her. He knew it. And knowing didn't make it hurt any less.
"Please," she murmured. "Take care of yourself… Mom… and Cyan…"
Then she turned her eyes fully to him one last time.
"And finally…" she whispered.
"My overly talented little brother."
A memory softened her expression.
"I still remember the first day I held you. It was windy. The coach was brutal."
A fragile smile formed.
"But that day… was special."
Cyan broke completely.
His sobs tore free as he clutched her hands, rain washing over them both, his chest collapsing inward under a grief too heavy to survive.
And still—
His hand glowed.
Still trying.
Still refusing to let her go.
END OF CHAPTER 18