Arc 2 chapter 6: The Strange Art of Not Dying

"You don't realize how much someone is a part of your life until you start adjusting your habits around them."

—Unknown

---

Hiding was exhausting.

Or at least, it should have been.

Zane had spent his whole life learning how to survive, but there was something uniquely frustrating about being on the run with Lily.

Because the truth was—

He was the only one hiding.

Lily?

Lily wandered around like a tourist with no concept of self-preservation.

---

At first, he had tried to keep her out of sight. Had tried to be careful.

That lasted exactly two days.

Because on the third day, he realized something crucial—

No one ever looked for her.

His face was plastered across every screen, bounty boards tracking his last known locations, patrols running background scans on anyone even remotely resembling him.

And yet, Lily?

Nothing.

Not a single wanted poster.

Not a single alert.

Not even a whisper of suspicion.

Zane had ranted about it for a full hour before giving up.

Lily's only response had been a simple: "I don't see why that matters."

And at that point, he had physically walked away before he said something regrettable.

---

Living with Lily was like taking care of a child, a friend, a stray cat, and an unstoppable force of destruction all at once.

She could quote philosophy like an elder scholar and then forget to eat for an entire day.

She could discuss the theory of Echo absorption in intricate detail and then nearly walk into traffic five minutes later.

And somehow, somehow, Zane had become the one responsible for making sure she didn't die from sheer obliviousness.

---

There was a pattern to it.

Some days, he took care of her like a friend.

Other days, he took care of her like an inconvenience.

And sometimes—though he'd never admit it out loud—he took care of her like someone who actually mattered to him.

She didn't ask for anything. Didn't need anything.

But somehow, he still ended up making sure:

✔ She ate.

✔ She rested.

✔ She didn't stare at things too long like a cryptid assessing its next experiment.

At first, he grumbled about it. Then he just… did it.

Because Lily, despite everything, let him.

She didn't acknowledge it. Didn't thank him.

But on nights where he came back later than expected, he'd sometimes find her waiting near the door.

She never said why.

And he never asked.

---

"Are you even listening?"

Zane blinked, pulled from his thoughts. Lily was watching him, tilting her head slightly.

"Uh. Sure."

"You're not," she said flatly.

Zane sighed. "Then explain it again, Professor."

Lily considered. Then nodded.

They were sitting in one of the abandoned storage districts, Lily demonstrating the absorption of Echo—the strange, ever-present energy within Vatra.

Zane had assumed that after leaving the academy, his training would slow.

Instead, it had accelerated at an unnatural pace.

Lily had theories.

Most of them involved him.

None of them were reassuring.

---

"Concentrate," Lily said, gesturing at the air around them. "Let it flow into you. Not too fast."

Zane exhaled, trying to anchor himself.

Echo was tricky.

Unlike standard energy, it was alive. It clung to intent, fed off instinct.

The academy had spent years training students on controlled exposure.

Lily?

Lily just absorbed it like breathing.

"You're thinking too hard," she said.

Zane gritted his teeth. "Some of us weren't born with the ability to—"

A sudden surge. Too much.

The Echo snapped, coiling like a live wire—and then Lily reached out, pressing a single finger against his wrist.

Immediately, the energy stabilized.

Zane inhaled sharply. "How did you—?"

Lily blinked at him. "It listens to me."

Somehow, that was the least reassuring thing she could have said.

---

Two nights ago, she had wiped out an entire military battalion.

Zane didn't ask why.

Didn't want to know.

It had been a one-sided massacre.

And the funny part?

There was no wanted notice the next day.

No records. No investigation.

As if it had never happened.

If he weren't used to it by now, he might have been terrified.

Instead, he just rolled over on the half-broken couch and decided he'd deal with that problem another day.