eclipse [j.grace 1]

iv. i was never meant to hurt no one

The next morning came all too quickly for Eira. The nightmares had clawed at her throughout the night, leaving her in a restless state. Each time she drifted off, the same scenes replayed in her mind—the devastation she had caused, the fear in her fellow campers' eyes. 

When she finally dragged herself out of bed, the sky outside was still touched with the delicate pinks of dawn, casting a muted glow over the camp. She felt heavy, her limbs sluggish and her mind clouded with exhaustion, as though the weight of her actions was physically pressing down on her.

Eira moved through her morning routine mechanically, the motions of dressing and preparing herself as automatic as they were unfeeling. Her steps took her to the small window in her room, where she gazed out at the camp below. The sight of the other campers beginning their day stirred a deep sense of isolation within her. 

The camp that had once seemed vibrant and full of life now felt alien, a place where she was both a spectator and an outcast. The thought of facing them after the chaos of the previous day churned her stomach with anxiety. She could almost hear their whispers, the speculation about the girl who had lost control and injured her own comrades.

The knock on her door was a jolt, startling Eira and causing her heart to skip a beat. She hesitated, the dread making her movements slow and deliberate. Gathering her courage, she opened the door to find Lyra standing there. The praetor's expression was serious, yet it held a faint trace of sympathy.

"Good morning, Eira," Lyra said softly, her voice carrying a warmth that contrasted with the sternness of her face. "How are you feeling?"

Eira's response was a shrug, her throat tight with unshed tears. She didn't trust herself to speak without breaking down, and Lyra seemed to understand, opting not to press her further.

"Come with me," Lyra said instead, her tone gentle but firm. "We need to talk."

The walk through the quiet camp felt endless to Eira, each step weighed down by the heaviness in her chest. The praetors' quarters, when they finally reached them, seemed to loom ahead like a portal to her worst fears. Marcus awaited them, his face a mask of grave concern that only intensified Eira's trepidation.

"Sit down, Eira," Marcus instructed, his voice brooking no argument. Eira sank into the chair, her hands nervously fidgeting in her lap, her heart pounding in her chest.

"We need to discuss what happened yesterday," Lyra began, her tone steady but imbued with a softness that hinted at a deeper concern. "We understand that you were not prepared for what we asked of you. That was our mistake, and we take responsibility for it."

The unexpected admission caught Eira off guard. She had braced herself for condemnation, for a torrent of reprimands, but instead was met with an acknowledgment of their own oversight. It was a small comfort, though it did little to ease the storm of anxiety within her.

"But what happened cannot be ignored," Marcus continued, his voice taking on a sterner edge. "You possess powers that exceed our expectations, and they are inherently dangerous. We cannot afford a repeat of yesterday's incident."

The lump in Eira's throat grew, making it hard to swallow. "I didn't mean to hurt them," she whispered, her voice trembling as she struggled to hold back tears. "I was just... I was scared."

"We know," Lyra said, her gaze softening as she leaned forward slightly. "But fear can be as perilous as anger. That's why we need to implement precautions."

Eira's heart sank as she realized the implications. "What do you mean?" she asked, her voice barely audible, though a sinking feeling told her she already knew.