Page 65 of Anomalies

The air cracks, and a violent current pounds against the shields I have in place. They hold, barely, and then the world goes silent. It’s a kind of quiet that has hair rising on my neck. A quiet that makes my heartbeat sound like a kick drum, and the dagger⁠—

Chiaros, she doesn’t even look scared.

Lucina has halted the blade, the sharpened point pressing into her cheek only enough for a single bead of blood to drip down her face. Her eyes are pools of deep amber, and they’re welled with tears. Tears that don’t fall as she grips the pommel and pulls it down from her face.

I swear I can hear her heartbeat. Hers, mine and the heavy breaths we take.

She wipes the blood off her cheek, then those tear-filled eyes fall to study the dagger in her palm, and when they rise back up to me⁠—

“Oh, fuck,” I curse, barely dodging it as she hurls it back at me. It sails through the air faster than a strike of lightning—faster than I’ve ever seen Pax throw a dagger, but then again, I’ve never seen him look at anyone the way Lucina’s looking at me right now.

Magic flawlessly whips out around her as she drags all the fallen knives across the dirt and flings them through the air with unnerving speed. I halt three mid-air, spinning to avoid the other two, and by the time I’ve got all five, she’s crossed the space between us, her fist reared back⁠—

I snatch both of her wrists, anticipating the rise of the second, but failing to anticipate the knee she rears up. “Stop,” I growl in a tone I hate using, forcing her legs down with my own. “Enough, Lucina.”

“Flowers,” she shouts at me, trying to yank her wrists from my grip. “I choose the fucking flowers.”

“Why?” I ask calmly, despite the fury in her tone, then I lower myself to look her in the eyes. “Because it’s easier?”

She doesn’t answer.

“Remember what I told you about your Split? It’s the point of breaking. It’s complete and utter collapse, and then it’s rebirth. This process is no different, Lucina. You want complete control? You want to understand what burns within you and own it? Then break. Fall. Collapse. Strip away everything you have until all you’re left with is this,” my thumbs graze the pulse pounding through her wrists, “the ancient thing that runs beneath your skin, and the primal instinct to survive. To self-preserve.”

Lucina’s eyes flare, anger still simmering within them, but understanding burns alongside it; bitter, stunning, and hard to swallow.

“There’s a reason I picked knives,” I breathe, and she relaxes in my hold. “You won’t reach that point playing with flowers.”

I feel her pulse slow beneath my fingers, and the rise and fall of her chest soon matches my own. Being this close to her…gods, she’s really just a woman who has been given something that she just doesn’t understand. She’s been thrown into a world with no guidance. She’s faced it beautifully, but she’s confused. She’s overwhelmed. I can see it in her eyes, and I can feel it in her heartbeat.

“You hit old wounds,” Lucina says finally, calm enough that when she tugs on her hands, I let them go. “It hurt.”

“Hurt,” I emphasize the word in the past tense. “You survived them. Better yet, you defended yourself against them and you did it flawlessly.” I can tell she wasn’t expecting a compliment from me but the brief shock that passes over her face.

“You extorted them.”

I shake my head. “I used them to make you stronger, Lucina. Wounds into weapons.”

She lifts a dark brow, more of that fury funneling out of her stare as a calm and collected version of her resurfaces. “The Dame teach you that?”

“She did.”

“Must be a lesson she reserved for you.” She swipes her fingers across the scrape on her arm, catching a thin line of nearly dried blood that she flicks off into the dirt. “Or people she actually cares about.”

“I’m just a weapon she forged to have at her disposal, Lucina. Her lessons weren’t rooted in care.”

Her head tilts to the side, pondering that as I step over the training ring fence to put the knives up.

When I return, she’s tucking loose strands of hair back into her braid, face lifted to the…stars. Of course. “Alright,” I say, pulling her attention. “Let’s get you back home.”

There’s something in the way her face falls that makes me wonder if she’s questioning whether or not this place can be considered as such.

“It can be your home,” I tell her, and her eyes snap up to mine. “If you want that.”

“You stole that thought from my brain,” she accuses, and I snort.

“That’s… not how it works.” I move to stand before her. “I have access to memories, but only Lakelets can infiltrate unguarded streams of consciousness. I can teach you to shield against them, if you’d like.”

“No, thanks,” she replies instantly. “Selene’s helping me.”