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Nora opened her eyes to dirt and blood.
Same dirt. Same blood. Same screaming soldier ten feet ahead.
She pushed herself up, pulse hammering. Her chest didn't hurt. No wound. No spear. Just the phantom burn where the blade had punched through her lungs a second ago.
She sucked in air. Real air. Cold and sharp and full of smoke.
The battlefield roared around her. Explosions cracked the sky. Magic flared in streaks of green and gold. Someone was shouting orders in a language that shouldn't make sense but did.
And there—right there—the soldier.
Young. Maybe twenty. Leg torn open, femoral artery spraying red across the rocks.
She knew this. She'd seen it. She'd tried to save him and failed.
Then Kael had cut her tourniquet.
Then the spear.
Nora's hands shook. She clenched them into fists.
Okay. Okay. Think.
She looked down. Her jacket was intact. No hole. No blood. The med kit was still strapped to her side.
She wasn't dead.
She was back.
"Move!" someone screamed.
Nora didn't move. She stared at the soldier. He was clutching his leg, face white, breath coming in gasps. Thirty seconds, maybe less, before he bled out.
She'd done this once. She could do it again.
She could do it right.
Nora ran.
She hit the ground beside him, kit already open. Tourniquet in hand. She didn't waste time talking. She jammed the strap above the wound and cranked it tight.
The soldier screamed.
"Shut up," Nora snapped. "You want to die?"
He didn't answer. His eyes rolled back.
"Hey. Hey!" She slapped his face. "Stay with me."
His eyes focused. Barely.
Nora packed the wound. Fast. Clean. She'd done this a hundred times in the field. Muscle memory took over. Gauze. Pressure. Her hands didn't shake now.
The bleeding slowed.
She exhaled.
Then steel kissed her throat.
"Don't move."
The voice was low. Cold. Right behind her.
Nora froze.
"Hands up," the voice said. "Slow."
She raised her hands. The blade pressed harder. She felt the edge bite skin.
"Who are you?"
Kael.
She knew that voice. Knew the weight of it. The command.
"I'm a medic," Nora said.
"Wrong answer." The blade shifted. "Medics don't drop out of rune circles. Medics don't know our formations. Medics don't speak Aecheld like they were born here."
Nora's mind raced. He'd said the same thing last time. Almost word for word.
Because it was last time.
She was in the loop.
"I said, who are you?" Kael's voice dropped. Dangerous.
"Nora Chen," she said. "Combat medic. I don't know what a rune circle is. I don't know where the hell I am. But that soldier's gonna die if you don't let me finish."
"He's stable."
"For now."
"Then you've done your job." The blade lifted. A hand grabbed her shoulder and yanked her around.
Nora stumbled. She looked up.
Kael.
Tall. Broad. Armor streaked with blood and ash. Dark eyes that cut through her like the sword in his other hand.
He looked exactly the same.
Because he was.
"You're coming with me," Kael said.
"Like hell I am."
His jaw tightened. "That wasn't a request."
"And I'm not your prisoner."
"You are now."
He moved fast. One hand locked around her wrist. He dragged her up, turned, started walking.
Nora dug her heels in. "Let go."
"No."
"I saved your soldier."
"And I'll thank you after I find out who sent you."
"Nobody sent me!"
Kael stopped. He turned. His face was inches from hers.
"Then how," he said, voice deadly calm, "did you know where he'd fall?"
Nora's breath caught.
He'd noticed.
"You ran straight to him," Kael continued. "No hesitation. No scanning the field. You knew."
"I saw him—"
"From where?" Kael's eyes burned. "You appeared thirty feet east. He was behind cover. You couldn't have seen him."
Shit.
Nora's mind scrambled. She couldn't tell him the truth. He wouldn't believe her.
Hell, she barely believed it.
"I heard him," she said.
Kael stared at her. Silent. Measuring.
Then he smiled.
It wasn't a kind smile.
"Liar," he said softly.
He turned again. Pulled her forward.
Nora twisted. Tried to yank free. His grip didn't budge.
"I'm not lying," she said.
"Then you're a very bad spy."
"I'm not a spy!"
"Prove it."
"How?!"
Kael stopped at a supply tent. He shoved her inside. Two soldiers looked up, hands on weapons.
"Watch her," Kael said. "She moves, you restrain her. She runs, you stop her. Don't kill her. Yet."
He walked out.
Nora lunged after him. One of the soldiers caught her arm.
"Easy," the soldier said. Young. Maybe nineteen. His grip was firm but not brutal.
Nora stopped. She looked at him. At the other soldier. Both were watching her like she might explode.
"I'm not a spy," she said.
The young soldier shrugged. "Commander thinks you are. That's enough for me."
Nora wanted to scream.
Instead, she sat down. Hard. On a crate that smelled like oil and leather.
She pressed her palms to her face.
Okay. Okay. Think.
She'd died. She'd woken up at the same moment. Same place. Same fight.
A loop.
She'd reset.
But why?
And how?
Her wrist burned.
Nora pulled her hand away from her face. Looked down.
A mark.
Black lines, sharp and angular, etched across the inside of her left wrist. They glowed faint red at the edges, pulsing in time with her heartbeat.
She touched it. The lines were hot. Not painful, but wrong. Like they didn't belong.
"What the hell..."
The young soldier leaned in. His eyes widened.
"Commander!" he shouted.
Footsteps. Fast. Heavy.
Kael pushed through the tent flap. His eyes locked on Nora's wrist.
His expression went cold.
"Where did you get that?"
Nora looked up. "I don't know."
"That's a Fate Binding." Kael's voice was flat. Hard. "You don't just get one. You're either born with it or someone burns it into you."
"I didn't have it five minutes ago," Nora said.
Kael stepped closer. He grabbed her wrist. Turned it. Studied the mark.
His thumb brushed the edge of the rune.
The mark flared.
Pain shot up Nora's arm. She gasped.
Kael let go. He stepped back.
The mark pulsed. Once. Twice.
Then numbers appeared.
Red. Glowing. Burned into the black lines.
71:58:42.
Nora stared.
The numbers ticked down.
71:58:41.
71:58:40.
"What is that?" she whispered.
Kael's jaw tightened. "A countdown."
"To what?"
He didn't answer.
The mark burned hotter. Nora hissed. She tried to pull her sleeve down. The fabric wouldn't cover it. The light bled through.
"Commander," the older soldier said quietly. "If that's a Fate Binding, she's either an anchor or a trigger."
"I know," Kael said.
Nora looked between them. "What the hell does that mean?"
Kael's eyes met hers.
"It means," he said slowly, "you're tied to something. A loop. A gate. A death cycle." He paused. "And if that clock hits zero, whatever you're tied to breaks."
Nora's stomach dropped.
"Or," Kael continued, voice colder, "you do."
The mark flared again.
Nora bit back a scream.
The numbers burned brighter.
71:58:12.
And below the countdown, new lines etched themselves into her skin.
Words.
Two words.
Reset anchor.
Nora's breath stopped.
Kael's hand shot out. He grabbed her wrist again. Pulled it into the light.
He read the words.
His face went white.
"No," he said.
"What?" Nora tried to pull free. "What does it say?"
Kael didn't let go. He looked at her. Really looked. Like he was seeing her for the first time.
"You're the anchor," he said quietly.
"Anchor for what?"
Kael's grip tightened.
"The war," he said.
The mark pulsed.
The countdown ticked.
71:57:48.
And somewhere in the distance, a horn blared.
Kael's head snapped up.
"They're coming," the older soldier said.
Kael didn't move. He was still staring at Nora's wrist.
"Commander," the soldier said again. Urgent.
Kael released her. Stepped back.
"Bind her," he said.
"What?!" Nora stood. "You can't—"
"You're not leaving my sight." Kael's voice was steel. "Not until I know what you are."
"I told you what I am!"
"And I don't believe you." He turned to the soldiers. "Bind her wrists. Not the marked one. Bring her to the keep. If she resists, gag her. If she runs, break her legs."
Nora's blood went cold.
"You can't do this," she said.
Kael looked at her.
"I just did," he said.
He walked out.
The soldiers moved in.
Nora backed up. Her spine hit the tent pole.
"Don't," she said.
The young soldier looked almost sorry.
"Orders," he said.
He pulled a length of cord from his belt.
Nora's wrist burned.
The countdown ticked.
71:57:01.
And the mark pulsed once more, hot and angry, like it knew exactly what was coming.