Shæz was still dragging Shean through the icy wastelands of Steza, her hands numb, her breath coming out in shaky clouds. Grief clung to her like the frost on her cloak, and exhaustion was starting to win.
She clutched the star pendant in her hand like it could give her strength. Maybe it had been glowing once. It wasn't glowing now.
Hours had passed—maybe days, it all blurred together—and her legs finally gave out. She fell to her knees in the snow, the wind howling around her like the ghosts of Zela.
And behind her… that sound again. Wings. Something fast. Something angry.
She didn't even flinch.
Maybe it was time.
She turned, teeth chattering, and saw it through the haze. That Ozelean mount, an Oxed. Huge bird body. Bat head. All teeth, claws, and rage. The Ozeleans' favorite ride into war. It was circling lower, aiming straight for her.
She whispered, "Shean…"
Nothing.
Jim didn't move. Still unconscious, wrapped like a weird gift from another dimension.
"Shea…" she tried again, voice cracking, barely above the wind.
The Oxed screeched and dove.
Shæz braced herself, eyes wide—but then—
Thwack!
An axe slammed into the side of the beast's skull. It staggered midair but didn't go down. Oxeds don't go down easy.
Shæz's eyes fluttered, vision fading, mind slipping—but before the world turned black, she caught one last image:
Gulutel. Swinging that massive blade like he'd trained his whole life for this exact moment.
She smiled weakly.
Maybe fate had a sense of humor after all.
And then she passed out.
__
Jim came back, awake, but not fully present. Lying in bed, his eyes wide open, he whispered up into the ceiling, to someone—or something—he could only feel.
"Please, not now, Dias," he pleaded softly. "I can't leave Senedro. Not when they need me the most."
Matt stirred from the other bed. He thought Jim was sleep-talking. But then he saw it—Jim was sitting up, fully awake, eyes wet, mind far away.
"Jim? You good, man?" Matt asked, still half-asleep, voice thick with grogginess.
Jim didn't hesitate. "Bro, not really."
Matt nodded… and promptly rolled over. "Mmm… alright."
Typical Matt.
Jim wiped his face. He'd never expected to care so much about Zela. But now? It felt like home. Like something sacred.
Before dawn, he left the house quietly and made his way to the hospital. Jenna was waiting for him, they had planned to visit Max Donman, the boy the world now knew as "the psycho who murdered his sister."
The world outside was buzzing—but not in celebration. Every TV, every news anchor, every article now mentioned the same thing:
Rain. Or rather, the lack of it.
A whole year. No rain.
Conspiracies were blooming like mold. Wild, bizarre explanations. Some hilarious. Some frighteningly detailed. But no answers.
Sitting on the metal bench in the waiting room, Jim looked over at Jenna. She was pale, fragile, the outline of her bones visible even through her coat. Her illness had taken so much from her—and still, she smiled.
He leaned in.
"Jenna… I know why it's not raining."
She turned to him, weak but curious. "Okay," she smiled faintly. "Let's hear it."
"There are Miteons," Jim said softly. "They're not from Earth. They live outside it… and they're the ones who make the rain. But now, they're pulling back. Maybe trying to send a message. Maybe to scare the Setrums."
She blinked slowly. Then smiled wider.
"You know what? I believe you," she said, and then laughed, soft and beautiful. "You're funny."
Before Jim could answer, a nurse called out. "You can see Max now."
They both stood. Jenna's parents nodded gratefully at Jim as he helped her through the hall.
Behind the glass, Max Donman sat calmly. He looked up—and his eyes lit up when he saw them.
"Jenna," he said warmly. "Thank you for coming. You look… sick."
There was no malice, no awkwardness. Just honesty. Jenna gave a small nod. Jim said nothing.
Max's gaze shifted to him.
And for a moment, just a second—their eyes locked.
Jim felt something shift.
Like a curtain pulled back.
He saw flashes, flickers—half-formed visions. Max in another place. Meeting something that wasn't human. A spirit? An entity? It was hard to tell. The vision was hazy, the connection thin.
Max broke eye contact. Looked away quickly.
"I think we're done here," he muttered.
But Jim had already seen enough to know—
Max wasn't crazy.
He wasn't alone, either.
It was already night, and Jim hadn't returned home. He was at Jenna's place. Her parents were away, and everyone agreed it would be safer if Jim stayed the night.
He sat beside her on the bed. Jenna was coughing, her breaths shallow. Jim watched her with a kind of reverent ache. He felt it was time—time to tell her something real. Something heavy.
"Do you believe in miracles?" he asked quietly.
She nodded without hesitation. "Yes, I do. I've always believed in miracles." She paused to catch her breath, then smiled faintly. "And seeing you... I really believe."
Jim took a breath and opened up. Told her everything—about the voice that saved him, the crossing between worlds, the city of Zela, meeting with the Setrums, Dias... all of it. He didn't hold back.
Jenna listened. And she believed.
"I'm happy for you, Jim," she whispered. "Maybe... maybe you were chosen. Maybe you needed to live. And that's why you were saved. Me?" She smiled again, softer this time. "I've lived. I really have. My life's been full of miracles. And you're one of them."
Silence wrapped around them gently. Jim sat closer. Their breath synced. Their hearts, slow and steady. Then something, soft, silent—passed between them. A moment too real to deny.
"Go on," she whispered.
And Jim did.
He reached out, gently removed her shirt, careful with every touch. He held her, lifted her gently onto the bed. Her body was fragile, but radiant. Like something made of light and breath. Their kiss was slow—new but sure. Jim had never done this before, but he let instinct guide him. He was tender, always remembering how weak she'd become.
She sighed, eyes fluttering closed. This, too, was a kind of miracle.
But as their bodies came together, Jim heard it—
A voice.
Not Dias.
Faint, echoing like a memory: "Shean..."
He tried to block it out. Focused on Jenna, on the moment, on love.
Then again—fainter still: "Shea..."
Somewhere between worlds, Jim had crossed time again. He was meant to be in Senedro. But this time… something was different. He was still here. Still present. Still in control. It was something the Setrums wouldn't understand. Couldn't.
Later, Jenna lay resting against Jim's chest, peaceful, warm. And then she heard it—
A voice. Clear. Gentle. Divine.
"Jenna."
She wasn't afraid. She recognized it. Dias.
"Jim has locked his ears and heart. Tell him—Senedro needs him."
Jenna stirred. Pushed herself up despite the fatigue.
"Jim," she whispered. "I heard the voice. It was Dias. Please... go."
Jim looked at her, eyes full of conflict. He didn't want to leave her. Not now.
But she nodded. "You have to. I'll be okay."
He closed his eyes.
Took one last breath in this world.
And released his soul.