The air was cold that night.
Harvie sat alone on the stone bench behind the infirmary. His clothes were still dirty from the fight with the Red Dagger agent. His eyes stared at the ground, unmoving. The dagger he used—[Memory Pierce]—was now hidden in his jacket, but its effect still echoed in his mind.
He couldn't forget what he saw.
Little Edna. Crying. Her skin burned, again and again. Screaming alone in that dark room. Her own fire, hurting her every time she trained.
And her voice, a whisper from the past:
"If you stop crying, you get stronger. If you burn, you learn."
Harvie clenched his fists.
Why would anyone make her go through that?
Footsteps came from behind. He already knew who it was.
"Harvie?" Edna said gently.
He didn't move. Just stayed quiet. But she sat beside him anyway.
They didn't speak for a while. The wind moved her soft red hair, and Harvie could hear her breathing—slow and careful.
"You found something today," she said. "Didn't you?"
Harvie nodded once. But still didn't look at her.
"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I saw something I shouldn't have."
There was a pause. Then Edna gave a small, sad smile. "You saw my past… didn't you?"
Harvie's head turned slightly. "...Yes."
"I thought I buried that part of me," she said, her voice shaking. "But maybe it was always there. I still feel it, sometimes. The fire. The pain."
She closed her eyes, and her next words came out like a quiet storm.
"There were times I wanted it to end. I thought... maybe if I stopped breathing, it would stop burning too."
Harvie's heart broke.
The strong Edna, the flame user who saved lives, who stood proud—he now saw her scars. Not the ones on her body, but the ones deep inside.
He wanted to speak, but the words felt too small.
"But," she said, turning to him now, eyes wet but steady, "you changed something, Harvie. You… you remind me it's okay to burn a little. That not all fire is pain."
Harvie looked at her fully now. Her expression was soft, but her eyes were fierce—honest.
"You're the first person," she whispered, "who looked at me and didn't flinch."
He swallowed hard. "Edna… I—"
She moved closer and put a hand over his. "It's okay. You don't have to say anything."
Harvie felt the warmth from her touch. It wasn't magic. Just her.
And for the first time in a long while, he didn't feel like a monster. Not a copy, not a killer, not a glitch.
Just… Harvie.
"I've seen a lot of pain," he said. "But yours… it hurt more than anything."
Edna smiled gently. "Then maybe that means you still feel things, Harvie. That you're still human."
He looked down. The fear of what he was becoming—the resets, the deaths, the cold logic in every fight—it never left him.
But right now, with Edna, he didn't feel so lost.
"Promise me," she said, "when the time comes… you'll let someone help you."
He didn't answer right away. Then he gave the smallest nod.
"I'll try," he whispered.
They sat there in silence again. Just holding hands.
No flames, no blood, no system.
Just a quiet night. Two people. Two broken hearts slowly healing.
Even if only for a moment.