I didn’t choose this
1228 Words
The courtyard was still smoking.
Not from fire.
From heat meeting frost, lightning splitting stone, magic sealing earth.
Penny stood in the middle of it all, staring at her arm.
The marble had not retracted.
It gleamed softly in the settling dust.
“…You’re still out,” she muttered.
“I am not a blade to be sheathed.”
“You’re a rock.”
“I am architecture.”
She narrowed her eyes.
“You’re a paperweight.”
“I sealed a subterranean assault network.”
She turned slightly away from the others, lowering her voice.
“Don’t get cocky.”
“Too late.”
A snort sounded to her right.
Cassian.
He stepped closer, hands loosely clasped behind his back, pale eyes amused.
“Are you,” he asked lightly, “arguing with your arm?”
“I’m not arguing.”
“You’re absolutely arguing.”
“It started it.”
“I did not,” the gauntlet replied.
Cassian blinked.
“…It talks?”
“Yes,” Penny snapped.
“Only to me.”
“Tragic,” Cassian said solemnly. “I was hoping it might compliment my hair.”
The frost mage tilted his head, studying the marble veins curling up her forearm.
“Well,” he added, voice dipping just slightly, “if it fused to you, I can’t blame it.”
She stared at him.
“…What?”
He smiled lazily.
“You’re structurally impressive.”
She blinked.
“Did you just flirt with me using masonry terminology?”
“Possibly.”
“Do not encourage him,” the gauntlet warned.
“Oh, I’m absolutely encouraging him,” Cassian said cheerfully.
Torvek made a low sound that might have been a sigh.
Brynnor stepped forward, planting the base of his hammer into the stone between them.
The vibration quieted the air.
“This is not a joke,” he said.
Cassian straightened immediately.
Flirty frost prince gone.
Focused Vanguard.
“We know,” he replied.
That shift mattered.
Penny noticed.
Sylvaris moved closer, moonlight still faintly clinging to him.
“It did not retract,” he observed gently.
She glanced down again.
No.
It hadn’t.
The marble was no longer crawling up her skin.
It wasn’t spreading.
It was… settled.
Like it belonged.
Her stomach tightened.
“…Fix it,” she muttered under her breath.
“I am not broken.”
“Then un-fuse.”
“No.”
Her jaw clenched.
“No?”
“Permanent alignment has begun.”
Her breath hitched.
“Permanent?”
“Congratulations.”
She turned sharply, lowering her voice into a hiss.
“You said it was temporary!”
“I said it was transitional.”
“That is the same thing!”
“It is not.”
Cassian leaned slightly toward Brynnor.
“I like her,” he murmured. “She has range.”
Ronan, who had been silent until now, spoke quietly.
“It’s anchoring.”
All eyes shifted to him.
He stepped closer.
Close enough that his shadow touched the edge of hers.
“The relic isn’t reacting anymore,” he continued. “It’s integrating.”
The word hit her like cold water.
“No,” she said immediately.
The gauntlet hummed.
“Yes.”
“Shut up.”
“Ancient.”
She closed her eyes briefly.
Bryn’s voice softened, just slightly.
“You stabilized us,” he said again. “Relics respond to unity.”
“I didn’t do that on purpose.”
“Doesn’t matter.”
Torvek crossed his arms.
“The murals show six.”
Her eyes snapped to him.
“Stop saying that.”
“They show six.”
“I don’t care what they show!”
“They show a woman with stone climbing her arm.”
Silence.
Cassian exhaled slowly.
“Well,” he said lightly, “that’s inconvenient.”
Penny looked between them.
“You all knew about that?”
“Legends,” Sylvaris replied. “Nothing certain.”
“Ancient,” the gauntlet added smugly.
She actually growled.
Ronan’s mouth twitched.
“You hate it,” he observed.
“It’s a rock.”
“It’s a relic.”
“It’s a rock.”
“It sealed a war-tunnel.”
“It’s still a rock.”
“Say rock again,” the gauntlet warned.
“Rock.”
A pulse of warmth traveled up her arm.
She flinched.
“Stop that!”
“Stop antagonizing primordial architecture.”
Cassian burst out laughing.
“Oh, this is going to be delightful.”
Bryn rubbed his temple.
“This is not delightful.”
“It is a little,” Cassian said.
Torvek gave him a look.
Cassian lifted both hands innocently.
“What? If we’re doomed by ancient prophecy, I’d prefer it entertaining.”
“We are not doomed,” Sylvaris said calmly.
Ronan’s gaze never left Penny.
“Vaelor tested us,” he said.
That sobered them all.
The name sat heavy.
The ground beneath their feet felt thinner.
Penny swallowed.
“He knew,” she whispered.
“Yes,” Bryn said.
“And now he knows you.”
The courtyard felt smaller suddenly.
The gauntlet hummed low.
“He has always known.”
Her heart skipped.
“What?”
Silence.
“…Clarify.”
“No.”
She stared at her arm.
“You’re doing that on purpose.”
“Yes.”
Cassian leaned closer again, lowering his voice conspiratorially.
“If it helps, I’m also withholding information.”
She blinked.
“Why?”
“It’s more dramatic.”
She actually laughed.
Short. Sharp.
The others looked at her.
At the sound.
At the way the tension fractured just slightly.
And something shifted there.
Not prophecy.
Not destiny.
Something human.
Brynnor straightened.
“We will be summoned.”
“By who?” Penny asked.
“Everyone,” Cassian replied cheerfully.
“Storm Clans.”
“Fae Court.”
“Ironhorn elders.”
“The Conclave.”
Ronan finished quietly:
“The Council.”
Her stomach dropped.
“I have contracts to finish.”
Five of them stared at her.
“…What?” she said defensively.
Torvek tilted his head.
“You sealed an ancient war-network.”
“Yes.”
“You are marked in prophecy.”
Apparently.
“You may be permanently fused to a sentient relic.”
Unfortunately.
“And you are concerned about… contracts?”
“Yes.”
Silence.
Cassian’s grin widened slowly.
“I’m going to marry you.”
She choked.
“What?”
“Purely for logistical reasons,” he added. “I admire priorities.”
“Don’t,” the gauntlet warned.
“Too late,” Cassian replied.
Bryn stepped forward again, grounding the chaos.
“You don’t have to understand this yet,” he said to her.
“But you are part of it.”
She looked at each of them.
Storm.
Moonlight.
Iron.
Frost.
Shadow.
And her.
Dust-covered.
Annoyed.
Arguing with a rock.
“…I didn’t choose this,” she said quietly.
“No,” Ronan agreed.
“But you chose to stand.”
That landed.
Because it was true.
The gauntlet warmed slightly.
“Little Architect,” it murmured.
She didn’t argue that one.
Not this time.
And as the smoke thinned and the city began to gather at the edges of the courtyard—
The Vanguard stood around her.
Not as saviors.
Not yet as brothers.
But close.
Very, very close.
- Writer
