Through The Ashes

26

The world came back to Jorn in pieces—first the sound, indistinct and far, like voices underwater. Then the pain, sharp and throbbing, pulsing through her skull in relentless waves. Her body was heavy like it had been pinned down by a wall.

She groaned, trying to move, but a firm hand on her shoulder held her in place.

"Jorn, stay still," a voice said, soft but insistent. Mara. Her voice cut through the fog, pulling Jorn back to consciousness, but it also came with a stream of disorientation.

Her eyelids fluttered open, and for a moment, all she saw was a blur of dim light and shadow. She blinked several times, trying to focus, but the pain in her head made it hard to see clearly. She was propped up against the metal gate, still at the front of the camp.

"Easy," Mara's voice came again, closer now. "You hit your head pretty hard. You need to rest."

Jorn's throat was dry as sandpaper as she tried to speak. "W-what...?" The word came out hoarse, almost slurred.

"You fainted," Mara explained, her hand still resting gently on Jorn's shoulder. "You've been out cold for a few minutes."

The others were there, too. She could hear the low murmur of voices around her, but her vision was still too blurry to make out their faces. A wave of nausea rolled through her as she tried to move again, but Mara's hand tightened, keeping her still.

"Don't try to move yet," Mara said, her voice calm but filled with worry. "You're in rough shape."

Jorn winced, the throbbing in her head intensifying as memories of the last few hours started to trickle back in—the fight with the Rot, the explosions, the mad dash through the alley. The horde had been right on their heels. They had made it back to camp, but...

Yosef's voice cut through from somewhere nearby. "You scared the hell out of us. Thought you were a goner for a second there."

Jorn turned her head slightly toward the sound, her vision starting to clear. Yosef stood by, arms crossed over his chest, his usual calm demeanor shaken. Brady was sitting on the ground, still holding his side, and Harrem was sitting cross-legged next to him, nervously tapping his fingers against his knee.

"You're not allowed to die," Brady said, half-joking but with a tightness in his voice. "Not after all that."

Mara's hand shifted, moving from her shoulder to her forehead, checking her temperature. "You're burning up," she said softly. "We need to get some painkillers and meds for you. The wound on your head isn't too deep, but it's swollen pretty bad and you're bleeding."

Jorn blinked, trying to process her words. She hadn't even realized she'd been injured that badly.

"Here," Harrem said, standing up and handing Mara a damp cloth. "This might help."

Mara pressed the cloth gently against Jorn's forehead, the coolness soothing the fire beneath her skin. Then she gently tapped around the throbbing gash. "Just rest for now, okay? You did more than enough out there."

Jorn's gaze shifted to Mara's face. There was worry etched into every feature—the furrow in her brow, the tight line of her lips. It made Jorn's chest compress in a way she couldn't explain, something beyond the pain and the confusion.

She was beautiful, even when she was so clearly stressed.

"I'm fine," Jorn tried to say, but even she didn't believe it. Her body had been through war, and every movement sent fresh jolts of pain through her head.

"You're not fine," Mara said firmly, her eyes softening but her tone leaving no room for argument. "You need to stop trying to be a superhero."

Jorn wanted to protest, to say she was used to pushing through pain, but the exhaustion was winning. The faces around her blurred again, the edges of her vision dimming as her body betrayed her need for rest.