Failure and Opened heart

The platform above the arena was silent, save for the ragged breaths of three women who'd just "died."

The ache still pulsed beneath their skin—phantom pain from crushed ribs, broken bones, suffocated lungs. Their hearts beat too loud, too fast, as the memory of that power tore through them again.

Then—

The sound of soft heels on stone.

Nyxara appeared at the edge of the platform, her staff floating lazily behind her, the long ends of her robes billowing faintly in the wind. Her expression?

Unforgiving.

She didn't wait.

"Let's start with what you did well," she said, eyes sharp but unreadable.

"Solene and Seraphyne. Beautiful coordination. Magical synergy. Tactical rhythm. I nearly shed a tear. You move like two halves of a soul."

Solene, still clutching her ribs, managed to breathe out a weak, "Thanks?"

Nyxara's gaze shifted instantly.

"Nerys."

She paused.

"You're fast. Sharp. No hesitation. That confidence is lethal. To them, not to you—unless you keep making the same mistake."

Nerys lifted her head.

"You do not move with others. You lead, and they trip over you."

Nerys's jaw tensed.

Nyxara continued. "Solene, you didn't account for Nerys's timing. Seraphyne, you focused too much on Solene and didn't check your flanks. You clipped each other."

Her voice dropped like ice.

"And that's all it takes. One moment of ego. One breath of misalignment. And you die."

Silence.

No one argued.

Because she wasn't wrong.

Nyxara walked in front of them now, pacing like a commander at war.

"You will face stronger things than her. Than me. Things that don't give you second chances."

Her voice softened, slightly.

"You want to protect each other? Good. You want to fight for love, for vengeance, for pride? Good. But if you can't move as one—if you don't listen—you'll watch each other die for real."

She stopped.

Then turned toward the stairs.

"You have the rest of the day to reflect. Training resumes tomorrow at sunrise."

She paused—just once—glancing back.

"And don't mourn the pain. Mourn the lack of it. Pain means you can grow."

Then she was gone.

---

For a long moment, the three women sat in silence.

Seraphyne wiped a hand over her face, eyes dark. "That was…"

"Awful," Solene finished.

"I've been hit before," Nerys muttered, "but I've never had a sword snapped between two fingers."

None of them laughed.

Then Solene broke the silence again, her voice small. "I felt my lungs collapse. I heard you both scream. And I couldn't help either of you."

Seraphyne reached over, took her hand.

"You died fighting for us," she said. "That still counts."

Nerys looked at them both.

"I wasn't trying to lead," she said. "I just… thought I had to."

Solene shook her head. "We don't need a leader. We need each other."

They sat like that for a while.

Wounds invisible. Lessons burned into their bones.

The three of them sat on the cold stone platform, sweat drying, silence heavy. The pain was gone, but its echo lingered—phantom aches in their ribs, their spines, their hearts.

None of them said it out loud.

But dying, even fake, changes something inside you.

And they had each died with the same thought—

Please, let the others live.

Solene stared out over the arena, the soft glow of the clouds below lighting her face in pale silver. She opened her mouth once. Closed it.

Then looked down at her hands.

She reached out, gently.

Her right hand curled around Seraphyne's.

Her left hand found Nerys's.

They both looked at her.

She held on tighter—not desperate, not dramatic.

Steady.

"I love you," Solene said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Both of you."

Seraphyne's breath caught. Nerys froze.

"With my whole heart," she continued. "I know it's messy. And selfish. And complicated."

She looked at Seraphyne.

Then at Nerys.

"I can't do this—really do this. Fight. Heal. Live—happily—without the other."

Her voice trembled.

"But I'm not asking you to compete. Or choose. Or erase anything that we've been."

She exhaled.

"Sera… Nerys… please. Allow me to love you both."

Silence.

Not a heavy one.

A held breath kind of silence.

Seraphyne looked down at their linked hands. Her thumb gently stroked Solene's.

"I never wanted to be the only one who held your heart," she said softly. "I just wanted to make sure you had one to hold."

Solene's lips parted—but then Nerys spoke.

"You already have it," Nerys said. "Both of us."

She looked to Seraphyne—who met her gaze with a surprising gentleness.

"I don't hate you," Nerys said.

"I don't hate you either," Seraphyne answered. "I just didn't know how to share."

"Well…" Nerys gave a breath of a smile. "Let's figure it out."