Some time to process

Samantha took a step back, her eyes still locked on Alaric.

"No. Nope. You're wrong."

Everyone turned to her. Even the wind seemed to pause.

"I can't be some… ancient all-powerful priestess," she said, voice rising. "That's not me. I'm just—Sam. I lose my charger twice a week. I forget where I put my glasses when they're literally on my head. I—"

Her voice cracked.

"I talk too fast. I get distracted by shiny things. I once cried at a cereal commercial."

No one said anything.

She kept going. "This is all crazy talk. It's some twisted fairy tale or government experiment or—"

Ron put a hand on her shoulder, gently. "Breathe."

"I am breathing."

"Then maybe stop trying to do it like a panicked squirrel."

She blinked at him.

Ron gave a small, lopsided smile. "C'mon, Sam. You've been through way weirder stuff. Remember last time when you found a raccoon in your locker?"

"That was a very traumatic day," she muttered.

"And you handled it like a champ."

"I screamed and ran into a wall."

"Exactly. Like a champ."

A laugh almost slipped through, but Samantha bit it back. Her hands were shaking.

"I should've stayed in the facility," she mumbled. "I mean, sure, it was a little 'creepy mental ward meets bad vibes,' but at least reality didn't collapse every five minutes."

Ron's smile faded, replaced with something quieter.

"You didn't belong there," he said. "Not then. Not now. And definitely not after all this."

Samantha looked away.

Alaric stepped forward again, this time with something gentler in his tone.

"It's a lot," he said. "Too much, even. And I understand."

Samantha stared at him, eyes rimmed red.

"But time," he continued, "is a luxury we're running out of. I wish we could offer you days, weeks, even years to digest what you've learned… but the truth doesn't wait. And neither will he."

Ramiel. The name didn't have to be spoken aloud. It sat in the air like frost.

"I don't know if I can do this," she whispered.

"You don't have to know yet," J said, stepping forward. "You just have to keep showing up."

Samantha turned to her. The energy was different from Alaric's calm and M's patience. J's felt like warm defiance. Like she'd lit fires just to feel something again.

"You're not alone in this," J added. "Even when you think you are."

Samantha gave her a small nod. Just enough. It didn't feel like healing, but it felt like less drowning.

Alaric glanced toward the sky — now a deep violet, night beginning to brush the edges of the clearing.

"When you're ready," he said, "the pendant will guide you back to us."

Ron raised an eyebrow. "Right. Because you made the map vanish like a kids' party magician. Good to know we've still got the pendant."

J smacked the back of his head lightly. "You're so annoying."

"I'm delightful," Ron said, rubbing his head. "I'm the emotional support NPC in this messed-up fantasy game."

"NPC?" J frowned.

"Never mind."

The light shifted again.

Alaric gave Samantha a long, unreadable look. M nodded once. J tilted her chin like you got this, even if you don't think you do.

Then—

They were gone.

Just like that.

The clearing rippled — trees blurring, ground thinning — and then there was only the sound of rustling leaves and a chill settling into the night.

Ron looked around. "Great. They disappeared. Again."

Samantha didn't answer.

He turned to her. "Hey. You okay?"

She exhaled slowly.

"Yeah," she said. "Just need a minute to breathe it all in."

A pause. Her voice dropped.

"It's not every day you find out you're an overpowered priestess with otherworldly powers, y'know?"

Ron gave her a knowing look, like he wanted to say something clever — but didn't.

And then, silence.

Wind brushing grass.

The faint hum of nightbirds returning.

Samantha stared at the pendant in her hand — its surface cold, its glow faint.

She told herself she was fine.

She told herself she could do this.

She told herself she just needed a minute.

Samantha lied.

She definitely needed way more than a minute.