CHAPTER 43: DISSONANCE
“YOU SAID I WAS GOING HOME!”
Suryel’s voice ripped through the infirmary, raw and fractured, sharp enough to make the air itself recoil.
The words scraped out of her chest like something torn loose rather than spoken.
Gold sparks of light streaked across the floor in violent arcs, skittering over the ivory tiles like thrown embers.
Where they struck, the air warped faintly, heat rippling outward as if reality itself had blistered under the force of her anger.
Several healers froze mid-motion.
A patient on the far bed flinched and pulled their blanket around them tighter.
The room burned with her.
“Suryel.” Raphael said sharply, his voice carrying the weight of command rather than comfort. “Lower your voice and try to calm down.”
He had anticipated this moment.
The trajectory was obvious.
Emotional whiplash after survival always manifested violently with her. He stepped forward, then stopped deliberately, recalibrating.
“And Helel.” Raphael added without turning his head, “You are still as agitating as I remember.”
“Do not tell me what to do!” Suryel spat, snapping her head toward him.
Her eyes burned bright, pupils blown wide, light and shadow chasing each other across her irises like dueling storms.
“Oh, Suryel, please.” Yael pleaded, already moving instinctively to stand between her and Raphael.
His hands lifted in a placating gesture even as he turned his head toward the healer, his expression apologetic and tight.
The look said everything his mouth didn’t: She’s still not herself. She’s normally cute, sweet, even cuddly. Please don’t escalate this.
Raphael scowled.
Then, instead of pressing the issue, he stepped back.
Fine. If this was how it would unfold, he would observe. Purely clinical.
He folded his arms, posture loosening by a fraction, eyes sharp and calculating as he tracked vitals that could not be measured by instruments.
Suryel swung her legs off the bed and stood.
The IV line tugged painfully at her arm, the glow flaring as it strained.
She ignored it.
She started across the room.
Her focus narrowed until there was only one thing in front of her.
One person.
And that person knew it.
Helel felt it before she reached him.
A crawling awareness slithered up his spine, ice-cold and unmistakable.
“What?” He spluttered, eyes darting from her face to Raphael and back again. “You’re just letting her walk toward me?!”
He flailed a hand helplessly toward the healer. “Raphael, do something! Suryel, wait! Let me explain—”
He tried to stand.
That was a mistake.
Pain exploded through his legs, stiff and uncooperative, muscles screaming in protest.
He staggered forward half a step before the restraint snapped taut, yanking him back with brutal finality.
The motion knocked the breath from his lungs.
One hand lifted instinctively, palm out in appeasement.
The other pressed hard against his bandaged side.
Suryel’s eyes flicked down.
Locked.
Her glare softened.
Just barely.
She saw the bandages wrapped fresh.
Her steps slowed, then faltered at the edge of her bed.
The room seemed to tilt.
A memory surged up uninvited, ugly and incomplete.
A lifeless cave.
The echo of dripping water.
A flash of shadow where light should have been.
Cold singularity carving into warmth.
A breath spilling into red.
He had called her name.
Suryel squeezed her eyes shut as her head throbbed violently, pressure building behind her eyes like something trying to force its way out.
She had stabbed him.
She knew she had.
The certainty sat heavy and sick in her stomach.
And yet the details slid away from her grasp, slipping through her mind like water through clenched fingers.
Guilt flared, hot and nauseating, tangling with her fury until the edges of the room blurred.
Her right hand curled into a fist.
Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.
She had planned to punch him.
Actually planned it.
A clean strike.
Fast.
Satisfying.
Consequences delivered directly to his stupid, smug face.
Instead, she spun on her heel with a sharp, frustrated sound and stomped back toward the head of her bed.
Her fingers closed around a pillow.
She yanked it free and hurled it across the room.
The pillow clipped the edge of a metal table mid-swing.
The impact jarred her arm painfully, sending a jolt up her shoulder.
“Dammit!” She cursed, shaking her hand.
The table, infuriatingly, did not move.
The universe remained rude and entirely unrepentant.
Everything within arm’s reach became a potential weapon.
Suryel grabbed blindly.
Her fingers closed around a porcelain jar from the side table.
It left her hand in a clean, vicious arc.
The jar struck Helel square on the head with a sharp crack and shattered against the restraint bar.
He went down with a startled grunt, hitting the floor with a solid thud.
Yael yelped and dove beside his bed, ducking instinctively and throwing his book up in front of his face as if paper could shield him from divine retribution.
Raphael stepped back another pace, deliberately giving her space to burn herself out.
He adjusted his stance just in time to catch a flying platter mid-air.
Two fingers.
Infuriatingly gentle.
It did not shatter.
The room froze around the chaos.
Other healers edged farther out of range.
Neighboring patients shifted uneasily, murmurs rippling through the infirmary like nervous static.
Suryel’s rage radiated outward without focus or center, a storm flinging debris into erratic orbits.
Her hand brushed briefly against her navel.
The miasma responded eagerly.
Happy to be noticed.
It rippled beneath her feet, a living contrast of shadow against sterile white, curling and pulsing like something pleased to be invited back into awareness.
It pooled beneath objects she hadn’t yet thrown, nudging them upward as if offering encouragement.
Cheering her on.
Suryel hurled everything she could reach until nothing nearby remained untouched.
Then she stopped.
Her chest heaved.
She dragged in a breath.
Then another.
Her hands trembled violently.
“I am not staying here.” She muttered, voice hoarse but absolute.
Her fingers found the glowing IV line attached to her arm.
She yanked.
Pain flared white-hot, sharp and immediate.
“Ugh! What even is this?!” She snapped.
“Aether.” Helel supplemented and answered flatly from the floor, his voice muffled and far too calm for someone who had just been assaulted by and recovering from a household object.
Suryel looped the line around her hand and pulled harder.
“DO NOT—” Raphael warned, already moving.
Too late.
The line ripped free from her arm.
Blood spilled instantly, red threaded with gold, splattering against the floor.
Suryel stared at it, wide-eyed. “Aliens.”
Raphael reached her, closed his eyes once, and exhaled. “Of course.”
He moved efficiently, tapering the IV up and reaching for fresh bandages.
Someone laughed.
It was Helel.
The sound cracked something open inside her.
Suryel’s throat tightened.
Her mouth trembled.
And then she broke, tears spilled down her face, furious and confused and exhausted, emotions collapsing in on themselves all at once.
Yael whipped his head toward Helel, eyes blazing.
“Why do you keep doing that?” He hissed. “I should gag you.”
Through her tears, Suryel’s attention snapped outward, searching for escape.
Her feet carried her toward Yael automatically.
Then she stopped.
Confusion flickered across her face.
Because Helel’s laughter had stopped.
Completely.
He had actually obeyed.
She saw him glance at Yael, sheepish, subdued, and Yael’s glare in return was immediate and sharp.
They were sitting too close.
Too familiar.
And Yael’s threat had felt… calm.
Too practiced.
For someone who had tried to keep Helel from her in the Dream Realm.
He had always been there.
Since she was a child.
He appeared. He stayed. He grew close.
He had time.
And yet he said nothing.
The realization hit her like a blade sliding between her ribs.
Betrayal surged hot and sudden.
She stumbled back a step.
The pain in her chest sharpened, twisting into something angrier, more dangerous.
Her mind reeled, slipping violently between past and present, like a ship dragged sideways by crashing waves.
The halls of Lapis Lazuli overlapped with Earth.
Both vivid.
Both wrong.
She felt suspended between two places, belonging to neither.
She did not want to look at either.
Not now.
“I have to get out.” Suryel muttered.
She forced her mind to focus, to retrace her steps.
Black lake.
Cold.
The Star Bearing Tree.
Falling.
Then waking.
She wasn’t choosing a destination.
Just movement.
Then she saw it.
A dark contrast blinking like arrows against the ivory walls.
The miasma waved cheerfully above the infirmary door.
Her eyes lit with dangerous recognition.
The room seemed to fall silent.
Helel saw the change instantly.
“Oh hell no.” He rasped, forcing himself upright despite the pain. “You are not going anywhere! Raphael, you need to tie your patient! Quick—”
Too late.
Suryel bolted.
Bare feet slapped hard against the floor as she sprinted, gold sparks flaring in her wake.
Helel groaned and let his back hit the floor. “I should have stayed underwater.”
“PATIENT!” Raphael shouted, already moving.
He surged into the corridor after her.
Yael was up in a blur, following without hesitation.
Helel snapped his head toward the nearest healer.
“You!” He barked. “Yes. The one who froze first. Cut me loose.”
Suryel burst into the corridor like a feral comet.
Author’s Note:
I just wanna say, I love this chapter. Haha. I get to write death and heal opposition twins.
