Lydia wiped down the already spotless counter in the infirmary for what felt like the hundredth time. Her usual efficiency was no match for the strange unease that had settled in the pit of her stomach. The infirmary was eerily quiet, a rare occurrence she usually welcomed but found unsettling today. With most of the shelter’s members dispatched on this early morning’s mission, the empty room only amplified the silence, making the usual hum of activity feel like a distant memory.

Usually, she had a few volunteers with minor medical knowledge helping her around the infirmary. But today, she was alone. No patients to treat, no wounds to mend—just the heavy, oppressive quiet that clung to the air like a shroud. Lydia frowned, trying to shake off the unease, but it clung to her, refusing to let go.

She wasn’t one to worry easily. She prided herself on being the calm center in the storm, the person others could rely on when everything else was falling apart. But today felt different. It wasn’t just the quiet that unnerved her—it was the feeling of waiting, of anticipating something she couldn’t quite put her finger on.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sudden sound of footsteps—urgent, frantic—followed by the infirmary door bursting open. Mira and Finn tumbled in, their faces flushed with worry. The sight of the twins, usually so full of life, now so distressed, sent a pang of guilt through Lydia’s chest.

“Where is everyone?” Finn demanded, his voice a mixture of anger and fear. “Where’s Alaric? And Dante? And Lily?”

Lydia’s heart sank. She had always had a soft spot for the twins, their youthful energy a bright spot in the often grim world they lived in. But now, seeing them like this, she felt a pang of guilt. How could she lie to them? But she knew she had to; Iris had kept them in the dark about the mission, and Lydia couldn’t betray that decision.

“They’ll be back soon,” Lydia said, keeping her voice steady, trying to sound reassuring. She knew that statement was as much for herself as it was for them.

Finn’s eyes narrowed, unsatisfied with her vague response. He stared at her for a long moment, as if trying to see through the calm facade she was putting up. Lydia held his gaze, refusing to waver, but the guilt gnawed at her.

Without another word, Finn turned on his heel and left the infirmary. Lydia watched him go, knowing he would either throw himself into some task to keep busy or start asking around for the answers he sought. She hoped it was the former.

Mira, however, stayed behind. The usually shy girl stood by the door, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. Then, as if something inside her broke, she rushed to Lydia, wrapping her arms around her in a tight embrace. Lydia froze for a moment, taken aback by the sudden contact, but then she felt the dampness of tears soaking into her tunic.

“I don’t like this,” Mira whispered, her voice trembling. “It feels like… like when sis left us last time.”

Lydia’s heart twisted painfully. Mira’s words echoed the very unease Lydia had been trying to suppress all day. But she couldn’t let Mira see that. She had to be strong, for both of them.

“Shh, it’s alright,” Lydia murmured, gently stroking Mira’s hair. “Everything’s going to be fine. They’ll be back soon, I promise.”

Mira didn’t respond, but the quiet sobs that shook her small frame told Lydia everything she needed to know. The girl was terrified, just as she was, though Lydia would never admit it out loud. She held Mira close, whispering reassurances she wasn’t sure she believed, but knowing that, for now, it was the only thing she could do.

After a while, Mira’s sobs quieted, her exhaustion finally overtaking her fear. Lydia gently guided the girl to the siblings’ quarters, tucking her into bed as she cried herself to sleep. Lydia lingered for a moment, brushing a stray lock of hair from Mira’s face, feeling a pang of guilt for the lie she had told. But what else could she do? She needed to keep them safe, even if it meant keeping them in the dark.

With a heavy heart, Lydia returned to the infirmary, the quiet stillness of the shelter doing little to calm her nerves. She tried to busy herself with minor tasks, but the minutes dragged on, each one feeling like an eternity. The gnawing anxiety in her gut refused to fade, and she found herself glancing at the entrance more often than she cared to admit, hoping for any sign of the team’s return.

Then, like a dam breaking, the quiet shattered. The sound of hurried footsteps and urgent voices echoed through the corridors. Lydia’s heart leaped into her throat as she rushed toward the source of the commotion. Her eyes scanned the crowd frantically until they landed on Dante, who was moving quickly toward her, cradling someone in his arms.

Relief flooded through her at the sight of Dante, but it was short-lived. The person he was carrying was unconscious, their form limp and pale. As they drew closer, Lydia’s breath caught in her throat—it was Lily, the reckless girl who had somehow managed to worm her way into Lydia’s heart in such a short time. The comfort Lydia had always felt around Lily now twisted into a sharp pang of fear.

“Please save her!” Dante’s voice was raw with desperation. “Her bleeding stopped, thanks to the potion you gave me, but… but…”

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Lydia’s stomach twisted as she saw the state Lily was in. The mask hid her face, but the pallor of her exposed skin, the lifelessness of her body, spoke volumes. Dante’s hands were trembling as he clung to her, his words stumbling over themselves as he tried to explain.

“Alaric—he’s leading a group as a decoy, to get the injured back safely,” Dante rambled, his panic barely held in check. “I have to go back—I have to cover our tracks more carefully, make sure they can’t follow us.”

Lydia forced herself to stay calm, though her mind was racing. “Dante, listen to me,” she said firmly, grasping his shoulder to ground him. “Take her to the back room—the one we use for serious operations. Now.”

Dante nodded, his movements jerky as he hurried to do as she instructed. Lydia followed close behind, her thoughts swirling in a chaotic mess. Lily’s condition was critical—there was no doubt about that. The potion Dante had used had likely saved Lily’s life by stopping the bleeding, but it was only a temporary reprieve. Lydia knew she had to act fast before the effects wore off.

As they reached the back room, Lydia quickly assessed the situation. The other injured resistance members were being helped by the few remaining volunteers, but none of them were in as dire a state as Lily. Lydia had to push the panic from her mind and focus on the task at hand.

“Place her on the table, gently,” Lydia instructed, her voice steady even as her heart pounded in her chest. “I’ll take care of her. You need to go help the others.”

Dante hesitated, his eyes filled with guilt and fear, but Lydia gave him a firm look. “Dante, go. I need you to make sure everyone else gets back safely. Alaric needs you.”

Reluctantly, Dante nodded and turned to leave, though not without one last, lingering glance at Lily. Lydia watched him go, her chest tightening with a mixture of concern and determination. She had to save Lily—there was no other option.

Once the door closed behind him, Lydia turned her full attention to her patient. Lily’s breathing was shallow, her skin cold to the touch. The wound on her side was severe, the blood loss alarming, even with the potion’s effects. Lydia’s hands trembled for a brief moment before she steadied herself. She couldn’t afford to lose focus—not now.

As she began to work, Lydia’s thoughts returned to the brief moments she’d shared with Lily. There had been something about the girl, something familiar and comforting, despite the whirlwind of chaos surrounding them. Lydia had been drawn to her, finding solace in her presence, even if she hadn’t understood why.

“Hold on, Lily,” Lydia whispered, her voice fierce with determination. “I’m not letting you go that easily.”

Lydia gritted her teeth and set to work. She couldn’t afford to think about the danger Lily had been in or the fact that it was likely a miracle she had made it back alive. All that mattered now was keeping her that way.

Her hands moved with practiced precision, her mind a whirl of calculations as she began stitching the wound, ensuring that the potion’s effects wouldn’t be undone by any sudden movement. She worked quickly but carefully, blocking out everything else as she focused on the task at hand.

The room was quiet except for the sound of Lydia’s focused breathing and the soft clink of instruments as she worked. Despite the chaos outside, here, in this room, there was only one goal: to save the girl who had somehow become more than just another patient.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Lydia took a step back, assessing her work. Lily’s condition was more stable now, the immediate danger passed. Lydia allowed herself a moment to catch her breath, organizing her thoughts as she calmed down. The adrenaline that had kept her going began to fade, replaced by a deep-seated exhaustion.

As she glanced at Lily’s mask, a thought crossed her mind. She had never seen Lily’s face—no one had. The mask had always been there, a constant barrier between Lily and the rest of the world.

Lydia hesitated, her fingers hovering over the edge of the mask. She knew she shouldn’t pry, but her instincts as a medic overruled her hesitation. Lily’s well-being was her top priority, and if there was something hidden beneath the mask that could affect her condition, Lydia needed to know.

“I’ll apologize later,” Lydia murmured to herself, trying to justify her actions as she carefully lifted the mask away from Lily’s face.

But as the mask came off, Lydia froze. She had expected scars, perhaps signs of the injury that had forced Lily to hide her face. But there were no scars. Instead, the face beneath the mask was one she knew all too well.

Memories surged forward, overwhelming her. She saw the warm smile of a girl who had reached out to her when she was at her lowest, offering her a place to call home. After her parents were killed, leaving her as the only survivor because she was different than them—because she wasn’t an Aeth—Lydia had been lost, consumed by grief and anger.

Her parents had been doctors, people she admired deeply. They had devoted their lives to saving others, always striving to heal and help in a world that often seemed beyond repair. Lydia had looked up to them, wanting nothing more than to follow in their footsteps.

But this cruel world had taken them away, despite all the good they had done. She couldn’t understand why, and the loss had left her adrift, struggling to find meaning in the aftermath. She would have withered away in her hatred if not for the hand that had reached out to her, a gentle hand from a small girl roughly her same age.

Tears rolled down Lydia’s cheeks as those memories flooded back. She had buried them deep, trying to forget the pain of losing that girl too, but now, faced with the undeniable truth, she couldn’t hold back the flood of emotion.

“Estelle…” she whispered, her voice trembling as she stared at the familiar face before her.

It didn’t make sense—how could this be? The girl she had known, the one who had saved her, was gone. But here she was, lying before her, alive. Lydia’s mind struggled to reconcile the impossible truth, but the tears kept coming, her heart aching with a mix of grief, confusion, and overwhelming relief.

The girl who had once been her savior was here, somehow, in this place. The mask that had hidden her identity was gone, and all that remained was the undeniable fact that this was Estelle—who had given Lydia a reason to keep going all those years ago.

As she stared down at Estelle, her mind struggled to reconcile the girl she had known with the fighter who now lay before her. But one thing was clear—Lily, Estelle, whatever name she went by, was someone Lydia would protect with everything she had. Just as Estelle had once saved her, Lydia would do whatever it took to save her in return.

With a trembling hand, Lydia brushed a stray lock of hair from Estelle’s face, her tears still flowing freely. “I’ll keep you safe,” she promised, her voice barely more than a whisper. “I won’t let anything happen to you, Estelle.”