Loveless/ a POWERLESS fanfiction story

Chapter 28: Brian

I'm afraid she'll lose her mind.
Right here, in the middle of the forest, in my arms. In this impenetrable darkness that feels thick as tar. Her sobs are like shards of glass, splintering the silence. With every ragged breath, her pain seems to expand, filling the space around us, threatening to consume us both.

I scoop her up in my arms, feeling how light and pliable she is. Her body shakes violently. I hope she won't have the strength to resist again as I carry her away from here.
Away from Sadie.
Away from what's left of her.

Each step feels heavier than the last. The moss beneath my feet compresses softly, and I tread carefully, ensuring I don't stumble, don't drop her. Her face presses into my chest, her sobs quieter now, though that only makes the ache in my chest worse. Occasionally, she gasps, like someone drowning, who's long since stopped trying to fight the water.

She's no longer screaming. Only crying. Endless tears that seem like they'll never run dry.

In the distance, a faint light flickers. It must be Sight. I move toward her, slow and deliberate, as if navigating by a beacon.

When I skirt the edge of the clearing where we'd fought the wolves earlier, I find myself stepping into the glow of a small fire. Sight has already set it up. The light flickers over her face, and I see now she's barely older than Blair. She turns to look at me, then at Blair in my arms. I say nothing, and she only nods toward a small mat.

I lower Blair onto it, shrug off my shirt, and drape it over her jacket for added warmth. Then I sit beside her, adjusting so she can rest on my lap. Her arms fall limply onto the mat. Her breathing—uneven and jagged—echoes against my chest.

"She won't recover from the shock by morning," Sight says quietly.

I nod, pulling the shirt tighter around Blair's shoulders.

"Tomorrow, all participants are to meet at the edge of the forest," Sight continues.

I tense, feeling those words resonate in my temples like a dull ache. Blair will have to fight. After everything that has happened, after losing the person closest to her, she will be forced to become part of this bloody game. To step onto the arena and entertain the crowd.

"I have a potion," the Sight says softly. "It helps me sleep in this forest."

She reaches into her bag and pulls out a small vial. I take it, uncorking it and sniffing cautiously. Finding nothing suspicious, I offer it to Blair. To my surprise, she raises her head and drinks the liquid without protest.

I watch her. Her face, now half-hidden in shadow, looks even more fragile. She's stopped crying, but her body still shudders with intermittent gasps. I can't leave her alone. And I can't let her lose.

"Rest," I whisper, my words blending with the crackle of the fire. "I won't sleep tonight."

Sight nods and settles onto another mat on the opposite side of the fire. I lower my gaze to my lap, where Blair's head rests. Her body trembles faintly. Her hair is disheveled, her face drawn with exhaustion, but even in the firelight, there's something fiercely beautiful about her. She embodies everything I want: her family's name, her connection to power that has broken so many like me for generations. But now, as she lies here, her face isn't that of an heir to an Elite. It's the face of someone lost. Tears still trail silently down her cheeks, and that terrifies me more than anything.

I stare into the fire, watching the flames lick at the wood, consuming it with an indifferent greed. Fire, like these Trials, devours everyone who comes too close—even the strongest. And Blair is far from strong right now.

She won't survive like this. Yes, she has power, the kind I've always lacked, but she's an empty shell. I can't imagine her stepping into the arena tomorrow, facing the others. If she can't... If she falls...

If she dies, I'll be destroyed alongside her. The General doesn't leave witnesses. Especially not ones who fail him.

I exhale sharply, tension coiling through my shoulders. My hand moves involuntarily, brushing a tangled strand of hair from her face. For a moment, I freeze, realizing I've allowed myself too much. But before I can pull away, her fingers clutch the edge of my shirt, trembling.

Plague. An hour ago, she clung to me like a drowning person desperate for one last breath. And I hate myself for the fact that, in that moment, I was willing to be that breath.

"You have to survive," I murmur, knowing she probably can't hear me.

You have no choice — I mean.

I tell her, but really, I'm convincing myself. Blair has to rise. She has to fight. If she falls, I lose everything.

And yet... I pity her. The feeling clouds my mind. It's my enemy. It has no place here.

The Sight murmurs something in her sleep, shifting on her mat, but I don't look her way. All my thoughts are tethered to the girl whose tear-streaked face remains etched into my mind even as she drifts into an uneasy slumber.

I swore I wouldn't let myself grow attached. Not ever.

But now, with her head heavy on my lap, her fragile breathing syncing with mine, I think I might be lying to myself.