Kelvin glanced at the small, leather-bound book in Wallace’s hands, the worn edges catching the orange glow of the campfire reflecting off the cavern walls. Shadows danced across the uneven rock as the flames flickered low.
“I didn’t know you kept a journal,” Kelvin said, his voice quiet in the vast silence of the cavern.
Wallace sat on a stone ledge near the firepit, legs drawn in slightly. He turned a page, his eyes lingering on it before he shut the book with a quiet thud. “It’s something I started doing after I became clairvoyant,” he said softly, like the memory still unsettled him. “It’s hard to keep track of what happened or didn’t happen when you see so many futures… or pasts. They start bleeding into each other.”
Kelvin folded his arms, glancing at the book with a mix of curiosity and caution. “That sounds exhausting.”
“It is,” Wallace admitted with a tired smile, rubbing the back of his head. “But it’s better than the alternative—walking around with my head full of echoes. Sometimes I can’t tell which memories are mine and which haven’t even happened yet.”
Kelvin hesitated before taking a seat beside him on the warm stone floor. The fire’s heat still radiated outward, pushing back the cave’s natural chill. “Do you ever write about us? About this journey?”
Wallace let out a quiet chuckle, barely more than a breath. “Of course I do. It’s not just for the visions. Writing helps me process things. The things I’ve done… the things we’ve all been through.”
The space between them fell into a deep quiet, broken only by the occasional pop of wood and the distant sound of dripping water echoing through the chamber.
After a moment, Kelvin exhaled and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “So… I’ve been talking to Mat and Fiona.”
Wallace’s head lifted slightly, eyes narrowing with cautious curiosity. “Yeah? Is everything okay?”
Kelvin nodded, though the gesture was hesitant. “Yeah. Mat made a mistake, and I get what you guys have been going through.”
Wallace went still. His fingers curled around the journal’s edge, knuckles whitening. “Oh.”
Kelvin didn’t let the silence stretch too long. “I’m not gonna hound you about what you did to Kai anymore.”
Wallace flinched at the word “did,” but Kelvin pressed on, steady and measured.
“I understand you grew up on a planet where predators and prey don’t exactly ask for permission. And Mat’s been living in a world that’s practically medieval. So I get how that twisted your understanding. I’m not saying what you did was okay—because it wasn’t—but I see where it came from now.”
Wallace’s lips parted, but no words came. His fingers tapped lightly against the cover of his journal.
“I wasn’t trying to hurt him,” Wallace said finally, his voice tight and low. “I thought… that’s just how things were. Like, there was this unspoken rule. Prey didn’t get to say no. And when someone you love… when they say no… it’s like your brain doesn’t know what to do with it.”
He rubbed his face, the exhaustion in him finally showing. “It sounds so stupid now.”
Kelvin let out a long breath. “It’s not stupid. It’s messed up. But it’s not just about what happened—it’s about how you carry it now.”
Wallace stared into the firelight reflecting off the rock, his voice going even softer. “Kai still stays close… but sometimes I catch him looking at me like he’s remembering it all over again.”
“He’s allowed to,” Kelvin said. “Healing isn’t a straight line. Some days will be worse. For both of you.”
“I know,” Wallace murmured. “I know that.”
Kelvin turned to him, his tone sharpening slightly. “Then don’t screw it up. You’re lucky you got a second chance.”
Wallace tilted his head, lips twitching in something like a smirk. “Luck, huh? Maybe I should write that down.”
He fell quiet again, staring at the fire. The journal sat unmoving in his lap.
“I know that in the past, I told you I didn’t trust you,” he said, voice steady but laced with something harder to place. “I guess I expected you to act up.”
Kelvin’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”
Wallace turned toward him, eyes sharp and unflinching. “I mean… you can reset time.”
Kelvin blinked. “Yeah. And?”
“You, me, and the dragons are the only ones who would ever know,” Wallace said. “So back during Rabbit Day… what stopped you from raping everyone there? Female or male. You could’ve reset time. Over and over. And if you ever did… who would stop you?”
Kelvin’s entire body tensed. “What the hell, Wallace?”
“I’m serious,” Wallace said, not breaking eye contact. “What, I tell them not to trust you? My evidence is that a magic dragon rewound the day and no one else remembers what happened?” He let the question hang in the cold, firelit cavern air.
Kelvin clenched his fists. “That’s not who I am.”
Wallace nodded slowly. “I know. Now.”
Kelvin’s voice was tight. “So you thought I was capable of that?”
“No,” Wallace said, shaking his head. “But I wondered. What if someone else had your power? What if someone with my history got it?”
He looked down, fingers tightening around the book.
“There was a time when I stopped caring what was right. Because no one cared when it happened to me.”
Kelvin stayed silent, letting him speak.
“There was a liger,” Wallace continued. “Back when Kai and I were in high school. He forced himself on me. I was small, and he was huge. And no one cared. No one helped. I convinced myself I wanted it because that was easier than admitting I was powerless.”
His voice cracked slightly, but he pushed through. “After that… something changed in me. When you live in a world where predators rape prey like me all the time, and no one sees it as wrong… you start thinking maybe it’s just how things are. Maybe it’s okay.”
He looked up at Kelvin, eyes hollow. “And somewhere deep inside, I started thinking… if it’s okay for them to do it to me, then it must be okay if I do it to someone else. If they could take from me whenever they wanted… why couldn’t I take back?”
He swallowed hard. “So when Kai begged me to stop… I didn’t. Because my brain said it was payback. Not for him—but for the world. And my body… it just kept going.”
Kelvin’s throat tightened. He stared at Wallace like he was seeing a wound that couldn’t heal.
“That’s not balance,” Kelvin said finally, voice cold and sharp. “That’s becoming what hurt you.”
Wallace nodded, shame burning in his cheeks. “I know that now.”
“You’re not just responsible for healing,” Kelvin said, voice steady. “You’re responsible for not turning that pain into a weapon.”
Wallace let out a long breath. “I carry it every day.”
Kelvin studied him for a long moment. “Have you been in therapy?”
Wallace chuckled, hollow and humorless. “In a way. I’ve seen possibilities where I talked to the best therapists in the world. Learned from them. Listened. But it’s all up here,” he said, tapping his temple. “None of them ever spoke to me. Not really.”
Kelvin shook his head. “That’s not therapy, Wallace. That’s just talking to yourself in smarter voices.”
Wallace gave a small smile. “Yeah. Maybe. But when no one’s really listening, that’s all you’ve got.”
Kelvin didn’t answer right away. He just stared into the fire, watching the way the embers pulsed like a heartbeat against the cave walls. Finally, he spoke, his voice quieter but no less firm.
“You don’t have to keep doing this alone.”
Wallace’s ears twitched, but he didn’t look up. “I’m not alone. I’ve got Kai… kind of.”
“That’s not what I mean,” Kelvin said. “You keep locking yourself inside your own head. Journals, visions, alternate futures, fake therapy. You talk to ghosts of people who never existed, hoping they’ll give you the answer. But that’s not connection. That’s just survival.”
Wallace closed his eyes, as if the words stung.
“I don’t know how else to survive,” he admitted. “The moment I try to be still, the silence reminds me of everything I did. The moment I try to be present, I feel like someone’s watching me. Judging. And sometimes I think—maybe they should be.”
Kelvin turned to face him fully, his expression somewhere between stern and soft. “You’re not wrong to feel guilt. But you don’t get to stay there forever. Not if you want to get better. Not if you want to actually earn Kai’s forgiveness.”
Wallace finally looked at him, his eyes glassy but dry. “You think he’ll ever forgive me?”
Kelvin didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he looked up at the cave ceiling. “I think that’s not your question to ask right now. The question is—are you living like someone who deserves forgiveness?”
That landed. Wallace’s jaw clenched, but he nodded faintly. “I’m trying.”
Kelvin gave a small nod in return. “Then keep trying.”
There was a pause before Wallace smirked faintly, the expression barely there. “You know… I always thought you were the dangerous one.”
Kelvin raised an eyebrow. “Me?”
“Yeah. The guy who can reset time. Who can take back any mistake, any slip. That’s the kind of power people would kill for.” He gestured at the fire. “And here I am, the one with no power over anything… except my words. And I still ruined someone.”
Kelvin’s gaze darkened. “Don’t minimize what you did. It doesn’t take power to hurt people. Just choices.”
Wallace nodded slowly, the fire reflecting in his eyes. “And sometimes the smallest choice… leaves the deepest scar.”
He leaned back, eyes drifting toward the curved ceiling above them. “I wish I could go back. Not to erase what I did… just to stop myself before it happened. To tell that version of me that he’s wrong. That taking control doesn’t mean taking someone else.”
Kelvin watched him for a moment before saying, “You can’t go back. But you can move forward. That’s all any of us can do.”
Wallace let the words sit in the quiet, and for once, he didn’t try to fill the silence with humor or deflection. He just breathed.
After a long pause, he said, “You think Kai’s still awake?”
Kelvin shrugged. “Probably.”
Wallace looked toward the back of the cavern where the tent stood against the wall, half in shadow. “Sometimes I want to go to him. Just sit near him. Not say anything. Just… be near.”
“Then do that,” Kelvin said.
Wallace hesitated. “What if it makes him uncomfortable?”
“Then walk away when he shows it,” Kelvin replied. “And respect it. You don’t get to make that decision for him anymore.”
A beat passed.
Then Wallace stood slowly, brushing the dust from his legs. He turned back toward Kelvin, his voice soft. “Thanks. For not giving up on me.”
Kelvin didn’t smile. But his tone was warm. “I didn’t say I trust you completely.”
“I wouldn’t, either,” Wallace said, and paused, looking off toward the darkness, as if searching for a thought. “But I’ll earn it. If I can.”
He took a step, then stopped.
“One reason I kept close to you,” Wallace added suddenly, glancing over his shoulder, “might sound selfish. And it was years ago. But…” He swallowed. “You’re strong enough to beat Loyd.”
Kelvin blinked at him, not expecting that. “Loyd?”
Wallace nodded once. “The liger who raped me. I used to imagine… if I ever saw him again, you’d be able to stop him. Not with time magic. Just… with strength. With who you are.”
There was a silence between them that felt like it carried the weight of years.
Kelvin didn’t say anything right away. He didn’t need to.
Wallace nodded again and quietly walked off toward the tent at the edge of the firelight, leaving Kelvin by the embers, alone with the crackle of flames and the cool, stone hush of the cavern.
Kelvin watched him go, his eyes thoughtful. Then, under his breath, he said—
“Good.”
