Seira didn’t give up easily, and over the next two days she appeared with what seed like calculated randomness, always friendly, always curious, always finding reasons to be wherever Dante happened to be.
At the water purification station. Near the dungeon entrance they were scouting. Even at the edge of their camp once, claiming she took a wrong turn in the confusing corridors of the sunken city.
"She’s persistent," Astrid observed, watching Seira retreat after yet another "accidental" encounter as she leaned against a pillar with her arms crossed. "I’ll give her that."
"She’s used to getting what she wants." He kept his eyes on the corridor where Seira disappeared, his voice flat and his expression carefully blank. "In the original tiline, people fell over themselves to help her. I was no different."
"And now?" Astrid pushed off the pillar and stepped closer, studying his face.
"Now I know what she becos, what she chooses." He turned away from the corridor and started walking back toward camp. "It doesn’t matter how charming she is in this mont."
Astrid was quiet for a beat before she caught up to him and stepped into his path, arms crossed and expression demanding. "Have you told Ravenna everything? About her?"
"Most of it." He tried to step around her but she moved to block him again.
"And what about ?" Her voice dropped, losing so of its usual aggression as she held her ground. "I’ve been patient, Dante. I’ve watched you struggle and I’ve given you space. But I’m not going to pretend I don’t see what this is doing to you."
"What do you want to say?" He stopped trying to move past her and t her eyes instead.
"I want you to talk to ." She uncrossed her arms and let them hang at her sides, looking almost vulnerable for a mont. "You told Ravenna about your ex. You’ve been leaning on her since we got to this floor. But I’m here too. I’m part of this team too. And I need to understand what we’re dealing with."
He t her eyes and saw the frustration there, the hurt underneath it that she was trying so hard to hide. Astrid presented herself as a berserker who only cared about fighting, but he knew better now after she opened up to him on Floor 7. She deserved the sa from him.
"Two years," he said finally, and the words felt heavy leaving his mouth. "We were together for two years in my original tiline. She was everything to . I would have died for her without hesitation."
"What changed?" Astrid’s hands curled into loose fists at her sides.
"She t soone she thought was stronger, soone who could offer her more protection, more status, more of whatever she really wanted." The words ca easier now with the wound already exposed to Ravenna and therefore less raw. "She told I wasn’t enough. That I’d never be enough. Then she walked away."
Astrid’s expression shifted as anger ignited in her eyes and her jaw tightened. "That’s bullshit."
"That’s what happened." He shrugged, trying to look more casual than he felt.
"No, I an..." She stepped closer and jabbed a finger at his chest, her voice rising with each word. "You. Not enough. That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. You killed an Archon fragnt. You navigate floors like you built them yourself. You’ve saved everyone on this team at least twice."
"That’s now, but then I was weaker, less experienced, just another climber struggling to survive." He caught her wrist gently before she could jab him again.
"So she left you because you weren’t already perfect?" Astrid’s voice rose even higher, loud enough that people at nearby camps probably heard. "What kind of person does that?"
"The kind who prioritizes her own safety above all else." He held her wrist gently, not restraining, just grounding. "I don’t bla her anymore. Not really. She did what she thought she had to do to survive."
"That’s very mature of you." Astrid didn’t pull her hand away, and so of the anger drained from her face as she looked at where he held her. "I’d want to punch her face in."
"The thought has crossed my mind." He released her wrist and stepped back, though a small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
"But you won’t." She rubbed her wrist absently, not because he hurt her but because she seed to miss the contact.
"No, because this version of her hasn’t done anything wrong." He shook his head and started walking again, slower this ti so she could keep pace. "She’s just a seer who finds interesting. In this tiline, we’re strangers."
Astrid processed that for a mont as she fell into step beside him, her expression cycling through several emotions before settling on sothing like grudging acceptance. "Fine. But if she tries anything, if she does anything that hurts you, I’m going to punch her face in. Seer abilities or not."
"I’ll keep that in mind." He bumped his shoulder against hers, a small gesture of appreciation that made her cheeks flush slightly.
---
Seira made her move that evening, right as the camp was settling into the approximation of night that the sunken city provided.
Light faded from the water above as so unknown chanism simulated a day-night cycle, and he was sitting at the edge of their alcove watching the distant glow of the floor boss’s lair when footsteps approached from behind. He knew who it was before she spoke, recognized the rhythm of her walk from mories he wished he could forget.
"Can we talk? Privately?" Her voice was softer than usual, almost hesitant.
He turned to find Seira standing at the threshold of their camp, her expression earnest and maybe a little nervous as she clasped her hands in front of her. Behind her, at a discreet distance, Ravenna and Astrid both stopped what they were doing to watch.
"We have nothing private to discuss." He stayed seated, refusing to give her the advantage of height.
"Please." The word ca out softer than her usual tone and she took a half-step forward, stopping at the edge of what might be considered his personal space. "I know you’re avoiding . I know sothing about bothers you. I just want to understand why."
’Because you broke once and I’m terrified you could do it again.’ The thought burned through his mind but he couldn’t say it, couldn’t explain mories of betrayal that never happened in this tiline, so he pushed it down and searched for words that would make sense.
"You remind of soone," he said instead, keeping his voice carefully neutral. "Soone who hurt in ways that are hard to explain."
"I’m not her, whoever she was." Seira’s brow furrowed and she spread her hands in a gesture of openness. "I’m not whoever hurt you."
"I know, and that’s what makes this complicated." He t her eyes and saw the genuine confusion there, the frustration of soone who wasn’t used to being rejected without a clear reason.
"Then let prove I’m different." She took a step closer and hope flickered in her expression, brightening her features in a way that once would have made his heart race. "Give a chance. I’m not asking for anything special. Just... don’t shut out completely."
The request was reasonable, and the old version of him, the one who fell for her the first ti, would have said yes imdiately, would have been grateful for her attention and eager to prove himself worthy of it. But that version died sowhere between Floor 25 and Floor 75, killed by the very woman standing in front of him.
"I can’t be what you want," he said quietly, and he watched her face carefully as the words landed. "Whatever you’re hoping to find in , I can’t give it to you."
"Why not?" Her voice cracked slightly on the question.
"Because I have people who matter to , people I trust, and I don’t have room for anyone else." He stood then, finally, and looked down at her from his full height. "I’m sorry."
Hurt flashed across her features, quickly hidden behind a mask of composure that he recognized all too well. "The demon girl. The berserker."
"Their nas are Ravenna and Astrid." His voice hardened slightly at the dismissive way she referred to them. "And yes."
Seira was quiet for a long mont, processing his rejection while her hands slowly dropped to her sides and curled into fists. Then she nodded, small and tight, her jaw set with wounded pride.
"I understand. I won’t bother you again." She turned to leave, then paused and looked back over her shoulder. "For what it’s worth, I think you’re making a mistake. Whatever that other woman did, I’m not her. You could have given a chance to prove it."
"Maybe." He held her gaze without flinching. "But I’ve learned the hard way that so chances aren’t worth taking."
She walked away without another word, her spine straight and her shoulders set with wounded pride, and he watched her go while waiting for the relief to co. It didn’t, just a hollow ache where stronger emotions should have been, and he wasn’t sure if that was progress or just another layer of numbness.
Ravenna appeared at his side a mont later, her hand sliding into his with the ease of established practice as she leaned against him. "Are you okay?"
"I don’t know." He squeezed her hand and let out a long breath that felt like it ca from sowhere deep in his chest. "Ask again tomorrow."
Astrid joined them on his other side, standing close enough to touch but not quite doing so, her arms crossed but her expression soft. "That was the right call. For what it’s worth."
"Was it?" He looked at her, genuinely uncertain.
"She would have hurt you." Astrid’s voice was certain, unwavering in a way that surprised him. "Maybe not the sa way as before, but people like her, they take whatever they can get and leave when sothing better cos along. You deserve better than that."
He looked between them, at Ravenna’s quiet concern and Astrid’s fierce protectiveness, and felt sothing loosen in his chest as the hollow ache began to fill with sothing warr.
"Maybe I do," he said quietly, and a genuine smile crossed his face for the first ti since Seira appeared on this floor. "Maybe I finally found it."
Ravenna smiled back, small and genuine, and Astrid rolled her eyes but didn’t deny the warmth that touched her features or the way she leaned slightly closer to him.
Sowhere in the sunken city, Seira Valen walked away from the first man who ever told her no, and she wouldn’t forget it. He wouldn’t either, but standing between two people who actually cared about him, the mory felt less like a wound and more like a scar, healed over and fading with ti.
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