Mat’s gaze lingered on Fiona’s stomach, his expression soft yet distant. “You’re not quite showing yet,” he said quietly.
Fiona raised an eyebrow, brushing her fingers over her midsection. “It’s only been a little over a month.”
“Yeah,” Mat murmured, nodding. “I know.”
She tilted her head, watching him carefully. “So, what’s the problem?”
He hesitated, his fingers digging into the fabric of his pants. “Remember when I told you I… hung myself?”
Fiona’s heart sank, her breath catching in her throat. “I do,” she said cautiously, her voice softening. “Why?”
Mat looked away, his gaze fixed on the glowing embers of the campfire. “It’s May 15th,” he said flatly. “The anniversary. Eleven years for Kelvin, but… twenty for me.”
She blinked, confused. “Wait. What? You’re twenty years old, Mat.”
His lips curled into a faint, bitter smile. “Exactly.”
The weight of his words hung in the air between them, and Fiona felt her stomach churn. “Does this have something to do with the dragon?” she asked carefully. “I mean… I’m eighteen. I was a senior in high school. But I was born somewhere else. Right?”
Mat sighed, finally meeting her eyes. “Yeah. I think you were reborn in Ketill, raised by your rabbit dad. Or maybe the dragon altered your memories. Honestly, Fiona, it’s impossible to know for sure.”
Fiona crossed her arms, her frustration bubbling to the surface. “That’s the point, Mat. At least you know. You remember dying, being reborn as a slave… and the love we shared that led to this.” Her hand moved to her stomach, her voice softening for a moment. “But me? I barely know if the alpha predator who murdered a hundred rabbits at a party even existed—or if it was just me all along.”
Mat’s face darkened, his expression filled with a mix of empathy and sorrow. “It was you,” he said softly.
Fiona’s breath hitched, her hand trembling. “What?”
“It was you,” Mat repeated. “You told me yourself. That night happened. You killed them, Fiona. And this life? This is your punishment.”
Her knees buckled, and she sank to the ground, staring blankly at the fire. “My punishment,” she murmured. The memories she had tried so hard to suppress surged to the surface—screams, chaos, blood. The righteous fury she had felt in the moment seemed alien to her now, like a dark shadow of someone she could barely recognize.
"Wait" Fiona said. "Didn't Kelvin stop me?"
"Yes" Mat said. "I guess in a way you did and you didn't. You murdered them, raped Lucas. And at the same time, Kelvin stood up for them and stopped you."
Fiona’s eyes darted to his, confusion and anger flickering in their vivid blue depths. “What does that even mean, Mat? Either I did those things, or I didn’t. There’s no in-between.”
Mat shook his head, his gaze steady. “There is, though. It’s like… a paradox. Like Schrödinger’s cat—both alive and dead until the box is opened. You remember doing those things, don’t you? The blood, the screams, the way it felt?”
Fiona’s breath hitched, her body trembling as the memories clawed their way to the surface. “I do,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “It’s like they’re burned into me.”
“But that’s just it,” Mat continued, leaning closer. “Those memories—they’re real. But so is the fact that Kelvin stopped you. You were on the verge, Fiona. You were ready to destroy everything and everyone in that moment. But Kelvin pulled you back.”
Her tears fell freely now, streaking her cheeks as she shook her head. “So what does that make me, Mat? A monster that was stopped just before the end? How do I live with that?”
Mat hesitated, his gaze softening as he studied her. “Do you remember your birthday?” he asked gently.
Fiona blinked, caught off guard by the sudden change in topic. “Yeah,” she replied cautiously. “It’s April 5th, right?”
Mat shook his head slowly, his tone measured. “I don’t think that’s right.”
Fiona frowned, her blue eyes narrowing. “How are you going to question my birthday, Mat?”
“You turned 18 before that rabbit party,” Mat said, his voice steady but quiet.
Her confusion deepened, frustration flickering in her expression. “What’s your point?”
Mat leaned back slightly, his fingers tapping his knee as if organizing his thoughts. “You asked that ferret out on February 14th—the day of the rabbit party.”
Fiona’s eyes widened, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Wait… a date was nagging me.” She paused, her gaze flicking downward as if piecing something together. “February 2nd. Is my real birthday February 2nd?”
Mat tilted his head, his expression gentle but serious. “It might be. Or maybe this is another thing the dragon changed—another paradox to figure out.” He reached for her hand, his grip firm and grounding. “But that doesn’t define you. It makes you someone who’s been given a second chance. Fiona, the person you were then—the one consumed by anger and hate—she’s not the person you are now. That’s what this life is about. To figure out who you really are, not who you might’ve been.”
She stared at the fire, her chest rising and falling with uneven breaths. “But what if that’s all I ever was? What if that monster is still inside me, waiting to come out?”
Mat’s voice softened, but it carried a quiet strength. “Then this is your chance to prove otherwise. To show that the monster doesn’t define you. Fiona, you’re both. The you that did those things, and the you that stopped. But you’re also more than that. You’re the you who chose to love me, the you who’s carrying our twins. You’re someone new.”
Fiona’s hand moved instinctively to her stomach, her tears slowing as she processed his words. “I don’t know if I can forgive myself for what I remember. For what I might’ve done.”
“You don’t have to forgive yourself right away,” Mat said. “But you have to live. For them.” His hand joined hers on her stomach. “For us. For what we can still build together.”
She looked up at him, her expression raw but determined. “And if I fail? If I let them down, or let you down?”
Mat smiled faintly, brushing a tear from her cheek. “Then we’ll figure it out. Together. Just like we always have.”
The next day, the cavern was pitch black, save for the small torch resting on a jagged rock. Shadows danced eerily on the damp walls, and the steady drip of water echoed in the silence. The air was cold and thick, carrying the scent of earth and stone. Fiona stood near Kelvin, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. Her voice trembled as she finally broke the stillness, her words cutting through the oppressive darkness. “Kelvin, am I… am I Edwin’s daughter?”
Kelvin hesitated, his reddish eyes reflecting the faint glow of the torch sitting nearby. The question seemed to weigh heavily on him, and he took a slow breath before answering. “When Mica and I went to the mansion…” His voice trailed off as he paused, searching for the right words. “You did seem like you were Edwin’s daughter.”
Fiona’s brow furrowed, her arms wrapping tightly around herself as though shielding against the weight of his words. “What do you mean, ‘seemed’? Either I was, or I wasn’t.”
Kelvin sighed, leaning forward, his hands resting on his knees. “It’s complicated, Fiona. Back then, you acted like you believed you were his daughter. “
“Mica was afraid of you,” Kelvin admitted, his voice low. “Even then, he couldn’t shake the feeling of what you were capable of. But it wasn’t just fear—it was uncertainty. It was like… you were both Fiona and someone else entirely. Like you believed it, but deep down, you didn’t.”
Fiona’s shoulders slumped as she sank onto the nearest rock, her hands trembling in her lap. “So, what am I supposed to believe? That I was Edwin’s daughter in one life but not in another? That this is just some cruel trick of the dragon’s magic?”
Kelvin’s expression softened, and he reached out, resting a hand on her shoulder. “I can’t tell you who you are, Fiona. That’s something only you can figure out. But what I do know is this: who you were then doesn’t have to define who you are now. Whether you were Edwin’s daughter or not, it doesn’t change the choices you make today.”
Fiona looked up at him, her blue eyes shimmering with uncertainty and something deeper—hope, perhaps. “But what if I can’t figure it out? What if I’m just… lost?”
Kelvin’s grip on her shoulder tightened gently. “Then you lean on the people who care about you. On Mat, on your twins, on us. We’re here for you, Fiona. You don’t have to face this alone.”
Wallace leaned back against the wall, twirling his magic wand idly between his fingers. The firelight flickered across his face as he spoke, a hint of amusement in his voice. “The dragons are weird. For me, I got magic and clairvoyance. Kelvin? He can’t be killed. And Mat—well, he got reincarnated and went from a fox to a rabbit.”
Mat, sitting on a rock nearby, glanced up from the fire, his ears twitching slightly. “Yeah, because being a rabbit is such a step up,” he said dryly. “I traded sharp teeth and claws for a fluffy tail and a reputation as prey.”
Fiona raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Rabbits don’t exactly scream ‘alpha predator,’ Mat. No offense.”
Mat shrugged, his tone even. “None taken. But at least I don’t have to be constantly judged as a predator anymore. Not that being a rabbit means anyone takes me seriously.”
Wallace chuckled, shaking his head. “Touché. But seriously, isn’t it strange how the dragons decide who gets what? Like, clairvoyance and portals? Sure, I’ll take it. But Kelvin being unkillable? That feels a bit over the top.”
Kelvin, leaning against his sword, smirked. “Overpowered, huh? You should try living with it. Knowing you can’t die doesn’t make it any less painful when someone tries.”
The group fell quiet for a moment, the weight of Kelvin’s words lingering in the air.
Wallace broke the silence, his tone more thoughtful now. “Still, it’s like the dragons knew exactly what we’d need to survive, even if it doesn’t make sense to us. Mat’s reincarnation? It gave him a new perspective. Kelvin’s immortality? Someone’s got to hold the line when things go bad. And me?” He shrugged. “I see things others can’t. Open doors that aren’t there.”
Fiona’s expression softened as she looked at Wallace. “Do you think it’s all random? Or is there some kind of plan behind it?”
Wallace sighed, his ears drooping slightly. “Who knows? The dragons don’t exactly leave instruction manuals. But maybe that’s the point. Maybe we’re supposed to figure it out ourselves.”
Fiona frowned, her arms crossed as she leaned against the wall, the flickering firelight casting shadows across her face. “So the dragon gave me fragmented memories… for what purpose?” she asked, her voice edged with frustration. “To torture me? To keep me guessing who I am?”
Wallace twirled his magic wand between his fingers, his gaze distant. “Maybe it’s not about torture,” he said thoughtfully. “Maybe it’s about making you question everything. About forcing you to confront yourself.”
Fiona’s ears twitched as she scowled. “Confront myself? What does that even mean? I’m stuck between a past I can’t fully remember and a present that feels like a punishment. How does that help anything?”
Mat, sitting on a rock by the fire, looked up at her with calm eyes. “It’s not about helping you feel better, Fiona,” he said gently. “It’s about forcing you to grow. Maybe the dragon saw something in you that needed breaking… and rebuilding.”
“Rebuilding into what?” Fiona snapped, her blue eyes glinting with anger. “A puppet for its amusement? A ‘better person’? What if I don’t want to be what it wants me to be?”
Kelvin, standing with his arms crossed, spoke up, his voice steady and measured. “Maybe it’s not about what the dragon wants, but what you want. The memories might be fragmented to remind you that you’re not just one thing, Fiona. You’re not just your past, or your punishment. You’re the choices you make now.”
Fiona’s shoulders tensed, her frustration bubbling to the surface. “And what if the choices I make now are just as bad as the ones I made then?”
“Then you learn from them,” Wallace said, his voice uncharacteristically serious. “That’s the point, isn’t it? The dragon gave us all something we didn’t ask for. It forced us to deal with it, to adapt. To survive.”
Fiona stared at the fire, her arms dropping to her sides. “I don’t even know if I’m strong enough to figure this out. What if I can’t piece together who I am? What if I fail?”
Mat stood, stepping closer to her. “You don’t have to figure it out all at once,” he said softly. “And you’re not doing it alone. Whatever the dragon’s reasons, whatever its purpose, you’ve got us. And that means something.”
Fiona’s gaze softened, her anger giving way to a flicker of hope. “I guess it’s better than trying to face it alone.”
Wallace smirked, leaning back against the wall. “Now you’re getting it. Dragons might be weird, but they don’t seem to pick people without a reason. Maybe you’ll figure it out someday. Or maybe you won’t. Either way, you’re still here, Fiona. That’s got to count for something.”
