"If fear had a taste, Seilorah was certain it would be bitter and just a little smug—like Zeyro’s favorite shade of sarcasm."
It began subtly. At first, Seilorah thought it was just her imagination—those faint echoes of emotions that weren’t hers, like a melody she couldn’t quite catch. But as the days passed, the sensations grew stronger, clawing at the edges of her mind. Sitting by the campfire, she flinched as a sharp wave of pain stabbed through her chest. It wasn’t physical, but it was real enough to leave her breathless.
“Are you okay?” Yelle asked, her tone light but her eyes narrowing with concern.
Seilorah nodded quickly, wiping sweat from her brow. “Yeah, just... tired.”
From across the fire, Zeyro let out a low chuckle.
“What’s so funny?” she snapped, glaring at him.
“Oh, nothing,” he said, leaning back lazily. “Just enjoying the show.”
Her glare deepened. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
He shrugged. “It means you’re finally getting a taste of what it’s like to live with this curse.”
Seilorah opened her mouth to retort, but another sensation—a cold, hollow ache—flooded her. It wasn’t hers. It was his.
She clutched her head, squeezing her eyes shut. “Stop it!”
“Stop what?” Zeyro asked, his voice a frustrating mix of amusement and confusion.
“Stop feeling things!” she snapped.
Yelle burst out laughing, nearly spilling the cup of tea she was holding. “That’s a new one. Seilorah, queen of emotional regulation, is demanding someone else turn off their feelings. I love it!”
“It’s not funny,” Seilorah growled, throwing a twig into the fire. “This curse is messing with my head.”
“Welcome to my world,” Zeyro said, his voice quieter now. “Try living with it for centuries.”
His words carried a weight that silenced the group, even Yelle. For a moment, Seilorah almost felt bad for him—until he smirked again.
“You’re handling it poorly, by the way,” he added.
“And you’re handling it so well?” she shot back.
“Obviously,” he said, gesturing to himself. “Look at me. Picture of composure.”
Yelle snorted. “Sure. If composure looks like a brooding, emotionally constipated antihero.”
Zeyro ignored her, his attention still fixed on Seilorah. “You’re scared,” he said, his tone softening slightly.
“No kidding,” she muttered, crossing her arms. But it wasn’t just fear. It was his fear, bleeding into her thoughts. She saw flashes—moments of isolation, regret, and something deeper she couldn’t quite name. It felt like standing on the edge of a chasm, staring into darkness and knowing it would swallow her whole.
“Is this what you’ve been dealing with?” she asked quietly, her voice barely above a whisper.
He met her gaze, his expression unreadable. “Every day.”
The weight of his words settled over her, heavy and unrelenting. She hated how it made her chest tighten, hated the way it chipped away at her resolve.
“So, what do we do?” she asked, her voice firmer now.
“We survive,” Zeyro said simply.
“Helpful,” she replied dryly.
“I aim to please,” he said with a smirk.
Yelle, sensing the tension, decided to lighten the mood. “Okay, let’s try something. How about we focus on happy thoughts? Rainbows, kittens, winning the lottery—anything that’s not doom and gloom.”
“Does that actually work?” Seilorah asked skeptically.
“No,” Zeyro said flatly.
“It could!” Yelle protested, pointing a finger at him. “You’re just too grumpy to try.”
As the evening wore on, the sensations intensified. Seilorah felt moments of Zeyro’s pain—sharp and bitter, like shards of glass cutting into her chest. She saw flashes of his memories: a lonely figure standing in the rain, a hand reaching out only to be left empty. And then there were her fears, bleeding into him. She could sense it—the way his smugness faltered, replaced by confusion and unease.
“You’re scared of being alone,” he said suddenly, his voice low.
Seilorah stiffened, glaring at him. “Excuse me?”
“It’s true, isn’t it?” he continued, ignoring her glare. “You’re terrified of pushing people away, of ending up with no one left to care.”
“Shut up,” she snapped, her voice trembling.
But he didn’t stop. “It’s ironic, really. For someone so determined to break this curse, you’re afraid of what it’ll cost you.”
Her hand twitched toward the nearest object—a stick—but she stopped herself, taking a deep breath instead.
“You don’t know anything about me,” she said, her voice cold.
“Don’t I?” he countered, his gaze piercing. The air between them crackled with tension, heavy and suffocating.
“Okay, time out!” Yelle interjected, stepping between them. “Let’s not turn this into a therapy session gone wrong.”
“She started it,” Zeyro muttered.
“Because you’re insufferable!” Seilorah shot back.
“And yet, you’re still here,” he said with a smirk.
Yelle threw her hands up in exasperation. “You two are impossible.”
Seilorah turned away, her fists clenched. She hated how easily he got under her skin, hated how he could read her so effortlessly. But more than anything, she hated how his words hit too close to home. Later that night, as the campfire burned low, Seilorah sat alone, staring into the flames. The echoes of Zeyro’s emotions still lingered in her mind, a constant reminder of the bond they couldn’t escape.
“I know you’re there,” she said without turning around.
Zeyro stepped out of the shadows, his expression guarded. “You’re getting better at that.”
“I'm quite fortunate,” she said dryly. For a while, neither of them spoke, the silence stretching between them like a fragile thread.
“Why did you say those things earlier?” she asked finally.
“Because they’re true,” he replied simply.
She sighed, running a hand through her hair. “You don’t have to be so blunt, you know.”
“Would you prefer I lie?”
“No,” she admitted. “But maybe try a little tact.”
Zeyro smirked. “I’ll add it to my list of things to work on.”
“Good,” she said, her tone softening. For a moment, they sat in silence, the crackling fire the only sound.
“This curse,” Seilorah said quietly. “It’s not just a punishment, is it?”
“No,” he said, his voice heavy. “It’s a test. One that no one’s passed.”
“Well,” she said, her jaw tightening. “Then we’ll just have to be the first.”
Zeyro looked at her, something unreadable flickering in his eyes. “Do you really think that’s possible?”
“I don’t know,” she admitted. “But I’m not giving up.”
“Stubborn,” he said, shaking his head.
“Takes one to know one,” she shot back.
As the fire burned low, Seilorah felt a strange sense of calm settle over her. The fear and pain were still there, lingering like shadows, but for the first time, she felt like she wasn’t facing them alone. And that, she realized, made all the difference.
"Sometimes, the hardest battles aren’t fought with swords or magic, but with the fears we carry and the truths we’d rather ignore."