Chapter Four: Shattered Realities

Selene’s steps faltered as she followed Ronan down a dark, deserted alley. Her body still ached from the fight, and the cold night air bit through her thin cloak, making her shiver. Neon signs buzzed faintly above, casting flickering, unnatural light over cracked pavement.

They emerged onto a dimly lit street lined with towering glass structures that reached toward a starless sky. Machines she now knew were cars sped past with a low mechanical hum. The world felt cold, distant—nothing like the warm stone corridors of the Anzarian palace.

Ronan kept his stride steady, his sharp gaze scanning their surroundings. Selene struggled to match his pace, forcing herself to ignore her trembling limbs. She hated this weakness. Back in her world, she had been strong—respected, feared even. Now she felt... displaced.

“You’re slowing down,” Ronan said without turning.

“I’m fine,” she snapped, gritting her teeth as she pushed herself forward.

He gave a curt nod but didn’t slow. His silent assessment burned, reminding her of how far she’d fallen. She hated the way he made her feel small, like another helpless victim swept up in the storm of his dangerous world.

After what felt like an eternity, they reached an inconspicuous metal door tucked between two brick walls. Ronan tapped a hidden keypad, and the door slid open with a soft hiss. He motioned for her to enter.

The space beyond was stark but well-maintained—a large underground safe house with metal walls, sparse furnishings, and glowing control panels lining one side. Selene’s gaze swept over the unfamiliar technology, marveling at its strange, otherworldly precision.

“Sit,” Ronan ordered, gesturing toward a worn leather couch.

Selene hesitated but obeyed, collapsing onto the couch with a barely concealed wince. Every muscle in her body protested, and exhaustion tugged at her senses.

Ronan disappeared through a side door, returning moments later with a small first-aid kit. He dropped it on the table in front of her.

“Patch yourself up,” he instructed coldly.

Selene stared at the kit, uncertain what to do with the strange supplies inside. Medical herbs and healing salves she understood—but these sterile packets and synthetic bandages were foreign to her.

Seeing her confusion, Ronan sighed and knelt beside her, pulling out a bottle of disinfectant. “Hold still.”

She flinched at the sharp sting as he cleaned a gash on her arm, but she refused to show weakness. His hands were steady, practiced—a soldier’s hands. She wondered what battles he’d fought before their paths crossed.

“Why did you help me?” she asked quietly.

Ronan’s jaw tightened. “You were useful.”

Selene bristled at his bluntness but bit back a retort. Whatever his reasons, she was alive—though she suspected there was more to his answer than he let on.

When he finished, he rose without another word and disappeared into an adjacent room. Left alone, Selene leaned back, exhaustion finally overtaking her. She closed her eyes, letting the sounds of the strange, humming machines lull her into a restless sleep.

But even in sleep, she couldn’t escape. The memory of the rift haunted her—the searing cold, the monstrous figure, and the promise of something darker still lurking beyond the Veil.

Whatever fate had in store, she wasn’t ready to give up—not yet. She’d survived poison, betrayal, and a world that wasn’t hers. She could survive this too.

Because survival was only the beginning.

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