The Five Realms

Chapter 30: Chyna VII

Chapter 30: Fractured Bonds

Chyna walked ahead of him, but she might as well have been miles away. The corridor curved like a serpent, glowing faintly with residual firelight—but in her chest, only cold simmered.

She should have been relieved. Grateful.

He survived.

He was alive.

But instead, her stomach churned with something sharp and dark—like disappointment sharpened into a dagger. Her thoughts swirled in a loop she couldn't break:

He didn't tell me.

Not just the others. Not Arya. Not Murtagh. Not even Mom.

Me.

The one who shared his heartbeat before he even had a name. The one who always knew what he was thinking—until now.

Her boots crunched softly on the scorched stone. Every footstep echoed, rhythmic, empty. Behind her, she could feel his gaze flick toward her. Hesitant. Hoping.

She didn't return it.

Chyna blinked and the image changed—she was four again. Joey was sitting on the kitchen floor, holding a cracked flashlight, face smudged with soot, both of them giggling under the table like the world couldn't touch them.

"Together," he'd said that day, whispering solemn like it was a spell.

"Always," she'd answered.

They'd said it a thousand times since.

And today, it shattered.

She inhaled sharply, and the sulfur-tinged air burned her lungs. She didn't cry.

But something inside her cracked loud enough to echo.

"So," Chyna said, her voice slicing the tunnel's stillness like a blade, "was this going to be a secret forever?"

The group paused. Even the low rumble of the caverns seemed to hush.

Joey stopped a few paces behind her. "Chyna—"

"No," she said, turning on her heel. "Don't 'Chyna' me. Don't do that. I'm asking a question."

His face twisted with guilt. "It wasn't like that."

"Then how was it?"

He looked at her, then away. "Dad made me promise."

Her laugh was short and sharp. "Of course. Dad. The eternal excuse. He's dead, Joey."

"I know—"

"Do you? Because he's dead and you still didn't tell me."

Maria stepped forward. "Joey." Her voice was tight as thread. "If you'd told me, we could've—"

"Could've what?" Joey snapped. "Locked me in a lab? Studied me? I was four when it started. I didn't even understand it—only that I wasn't supposed to talk about it."

Arya's tone cut in, calm but cold. "No part of that bridge was unstable. It was secured magically, centuries ago."

Murtagh, arms crossed, nodded grimly. "Magic has intentions. It felt something in you."

Joey's shoulders stiffened. "So it... knew?"

"It knew you were lying," Arya said.

Steven shifted beside the wall, eyes fixed on the stone floor.

Beanca, behind him, didn't say a word.

And Chyna—Chyna stepped forward, voice lowering to a whisper that stung sharper than a scream: