The Weight of Staying

Episode------ 20

Something shifted then.

Lina's gaze darted past him, catching movement in the shadows above: a crossbowman stepping onto the ruined balcony, leveling his weapon straight at Ayan's back.

Time slowed. Her breath caught, chest crushing with panic.

"Ayan — above you!" she screamed.

He glanced up — but too late. The man fired.

Lina didn't think. Didn't plan. She moved.

Her shoulder slammed into Ayan's back, shoving him aside. The bolt struck stone where he'd stood, splintering marble in an explosion of dust and noise.

They staggered together, Ayan's arm snapping around her waist to steady them both.

For a heartbeat they froze — pressed chest to chest, breathing the same ragged air, hearts thundering in terrified unison. Rain soaked them, cold and heavy, but his grip burned hot against her ribs.

"Why?" he rasped, voice breaking, eyes wide with shock and something rawer. "You could have—"

"So could you," she fired back, voice shaking but unyielding. "I won't stand here and watch you die."

---

Another figure charged from the hall's mouth, sword raised.

Ayan's grip tightened, then pushed her gently behind him. "Stay close," he growled, voice low as thunder.

He met the attacker head-on. Blades crashed, sparks flew, and Lina stumbled back against the wall — but her gaze never left him. Every movement etched itself into her mind: the twist of his torso, the raw power in his arms, the shadowed pain behind his fury.

The fight ended quickly — a brutal parry, a low sweep, and the attacker crumpled to the flooded floor.

Ayan's chest heaved; blood dripped from a cut near his collarbone. Rain washed it down, pink rivulets disappearing into dark fabric.

He turned to her, breath ragged. "Are you hurt?"

"No," she gasped, tears she hadn't noticed mingling with the rain. "But you're bleeding—"

"It's nothing," he ground out. His hand lifted, thumb brushing wet strands of hair from her face, a gesture so gentle it felt stolen from a different life.

---

From deeper in the villa, a horn sounded — low, brassy, a warning call that chilled the marrow of her bones.

Ayan's jaw tightened. "They're through the east wing," he muttered. "If they reach the library, the servants have nowhere left to hide."

"I can help," Lina whispered, voice cracking. "Let me fight."

His gaze cut to her — raw, torn between refusal and reluctant truth.

"You're not ready," he rasped.

"I may never be," she shot back, stepping closer, rain dripping from her lashes. "But I'm here. And I won't leave."

Lightning flashed outside, bathing them in stark white. For a moment, she saw the boy he must have once been — terrified, scarred, forced to choose between violence and survival.

Then the man returned: Ayan, blade in hand, resolve hardening like iron under flame.

"Then stay behind me," he said hoarsely. "And if I fall—"

"I'll pick up the sword," she finished for him, voice trembling but sure.

---

They moved together toward the echoing hall — past fallen bodies and broken stone. The air smelled of wet dust, blood, and iron.

Ayan's free hand brushed hers once — fleeting contact, yet enough to send heat coursing through her chest.

Tomorrow, his eyes seemed to say. And the day after.

As long as you keep coming back.

---

Thunder crashed again — so loud it rattled the broken windows. From the shadows ahead, more figures emerged, blades glinting wetly in torchlight.

Ayan stepped forward, lifting his sword. "Stay behind me," he ordered, voice like a promise wrapped in steel.

Lina's hand hovered at her side, fingers curling as if around a phantom hilt. The memory of training burned in her muscles — the ache, the fear, the quiet pride.

Not just for him, she reminded herself. For me. For who I choose to become.

---

The attackers advanced. Water pooled around Lina's boots; rain dripped from cracked ceiling beams. Her pulse thundered in her ears, almost drowning out the shouts and clash of steel.

Yet beside the fear, something fiercer grew: the stubborn fire that had kept her standing when running would have been so easy.

---

In that rain-soaked hall, Lina understood:

The weight of staying was heavier than any blade.

And she had chosen to carry it — not because she couldn't run, but because she wouldn't.

---See you in next episode....