The room was silent but for the faint hum of the hospital monitors. Afternoon light slanted through the window, turning everything to muted gold, but Eve barely noticed. Her hands rested in her lap, trembling slightly despite herself.
Today was the day.
The bandages were gone now. The healers had done all they could. The wounds were closed, the worst of the swelling faded. There would be no more coverings to hide behind.
Swallowing thickly, Eve rose from the edge of the bed and padded barefoot across the room. Her reflection waited for her like a spectre in the mirror mounted on the far wall — blurry at first, half-glimpsed — but she couldn't avoid it forever.
Step by step, she crossed the floor.
When she finally stood before the mirror, she lifted her head... and recoiled at once.
A sharp, involuntary gasp tore from her throat as she turned away, pressing the heel of her palm against her forehead. The sight was like a blow to the gut — a hollow socket where her left eye had once shone, now a healed wound, ugly in its raw honesty. Her silver hair fell around it like a veil, but it did nothing to soften the truth of it.
Biting her lip to keep the tears at bay, Eve reached up hesitantly with trembling fingers. She brushed the edge of the hollow, feather-light — and immediately recoiled again, the touch a jarring confirmation of absence. There was simply... nothing.
Her stomach twisted.
For a long moment, she just stood there, breathing shakily, her heart pounding against the inside of her ribs. Part of her wanted to curl away, to never look again. But another part — quieter, stronger — refused.
This was her now.
Reaching for the folded black cloth left by the healers, Eve carefully slipped the eyepatch over her head, adjusting it until it rested comfortably. It was simple, unadorned. Practical. But it covered what needed covering.
Only then, steeling herself, did she look again.
Her reflection stared back — changed, yes, but somehow still recognisably her. The eyepatch cut a bold line across her face, a dark slash against pale skin and silver hair. Her mouth was set, her single visible eye steady and clear. Vulnerable. Weathered. But alive.
Alive.
She took a slow, deep breath and let it out.
Tigris. Colette. Reina. Valery. Isari. Azzie...
The people she loved. The people who were still there, still going.
She lifted one hand, touching the edge of the eyepatch lightly, and felt something like acceptance beginning to stir inside her.
"If this is the price for keeping them safe," she whispered to her reflection, voice steadying with each word. "So be it."
The girl who stared back at her didn't look fragile anymore.
She looked like someone who had survived the storm — and would face the next one with her head held high.
