Leanna sat on the edge of a rocky outcrop overlooking the sprawling forest below. The night air was crisp, the scent of pine and damp earth filling her lungs. She wrapped her arms around her knees, resting her chin atop them, her mind swirling with thoughts she couldn’t quite grasp.

  The world around her was deceptively peaceful, a sharp contrast to the chaos she knew was simmering just beyond the horizon. Battles fought, sacrifices made, decisions weighed—it all felt like a puzzle she was struggling to fit together.

  She had grown up surrounded by greatness: her mother’s indomitable strength, her father’s unwavering calm, and now, the larger-than-life stories of Minka and even the Ravager. Their legacies loomed large, casting long shadows that she sometimes feared she would never escape.

  But tonight, it wasn’t comparison that weighed on her—it was something deeper, something she couldn’t articulate.

  Her communicator buzzed softly, but she ignored it. For once, she wanted to be alone with her thoughts, to sit with the doubts and fears she usually buried beneath a facade of confidence.

  “Running away from the noise again?” A familiar voice cut through the silence.

  Leanna turned her head, startled, but then relaxed as she saw Viola standing a few feet away, leaning casually against a tree. The green-haired woman’s mischievous grin was dimmed by an unusual softness in her purple eyes.

  “You have a habit of sneaking up on people,” Leanna said dryly, turning her gaze back to the forest.

  “And you have a habit of brooding in the middle of nowhere,” Viola countered, walking over to sit beside her. She didn’t say anything else, letting the silence stretch between them.

  Leanna appreciated the lack of pressure. After a few moments, she spoke. “Do you ever feel like… no matter what you do, it’s never enough?”

  Viola raised an eyebrow, her usual teasing expression replaced with curiosity. “Depends. Are you talking about expectations, or your own mind beating you up?”

  Leanna hesitated, then sighed. “Both, I guess. It feels like I’m supposed to know what to do all the time. Like I’m supposed to be strong, decisive, capable… but I don’t always feel that way. Especially now, with everything happening.”

  Viola tilted her head thoughtfully. “You’re carrying a lot on your shoulders. But you know, the world doesn’t need you to be perfect. Just present.”

  Leanna glanced at her, a small, grateful smile tugging at her lips. “Thanks. That’s… actually helpful.”

  “Don’t get used to it,” Viola said with a wink. “But seriously, Leanna—whatever storm you’re facing, you’re not alone. And you don’t have to prove yourself to anyone except yourself.”

  Leanna nodded, her grip on her knees relaxing slightly. The weight hadn’t disappeared, but it felt a little less suffocating.

  “Come on,” Viola said. “Let’s get back before someone decides to send a search party for their beloved ‘responsible one.’”

  Leanna laughed softly, the sound easing some of the tension in her chest. “Alright. But next time, maybe let me brood in peace?”

  “No promises,” Viola said, her grin returning.

  As they walked, Viola suddenly tilted her head, her tone casual yet probing. "So, Leanna, how does it feel? You know… being without your armor for so long?"

  Leanna’s steps faltered for a brief moment, the question catching her off guard. She glanced at Viola, who was looking straight ahead, her expression deceptively neutral.

  "It’s… strange," Leanna admitted after a pause, her voice quieter than before. "Like I’ve lost a part of myself. Not just the protection it gave me, but… everything it stood for."

  Viola hummed thoughtfully, hands still tucked into her pockets. "And what did it stand for, exactly?"

  Leanna hesitated, her gaze fixed on the ground ahead. "Strength. Purpose. Confidence. When I wore it, I felt unstoppable. Like I could face anything. Without it..." She trailed off, exhaling deeply.

  "Without it, you feel exposed," Viola finished, glancing sideways at her.

  Leanna nodded, a bitter smile tugging at her lips. "Yeah. Something like that. And it’s not just about the physical protection. It’s the symbolism, you know? Like… what do I stand for now, without it?"

  Viola stopped walking and turned to face her, a rare seriousness in her gaze. "You know, armor doesn’t make the person, Leanna. It’s the other way around. You didn’t earn your place because of that armor—you earned it because of who you are."

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  Leanna blinked, the weight of Viola’s words settling over her. "That’s easy to say, but—"

  "But nothing," Viola interrupted, her voice firm but not unkind. "You think the armor gave you purpose? Fine. But you were the one who gave it meaning. You’re still you, Leanna. Strong, stubborn, and way too hard on yourself. Armor or not, that hasn’t changed."

  Leanna looked away, her jaw tightening. "It’s just… hard. Watching everyone rely on me when I don’t feel like I’m enough anymore."

  Viola stepped closer, her tone softening. "Leanna, you’re more than enough. And you don’t need a shiny suit to prove it. Hell, you’ve got more heart and guts than half the people I know."

  Leanna let out a short laugh, the sound tinged with both gratitude and self-deprecation. "You have a way with words, you know that?"

  Viola grinned, the tension easing slightly. "What can I say? It’s a gift. Now, stop moping and let’s get back before someone decides to start a search party for their favorite perfectionist."

  Leanna shook her head, a small smile tugging at her lips as they resumed their walk. But Viola’s words stayed with her, a faint ember of reassurance amid the lingering doubt.

  As they entered the camp, the warm glow of the fire and the scent of food filled the air. Minka and Sannet were by the fire, preparing a modest meal from the limited supplies. Minka turned as she heard the approaching footsteps, her face lighting up when she saw Viola.

  “Viola!” Minka exclaimed, dropping the utensil she’d been holding and bounding toward her. Before Viola could react, Minka wrapped her in a tight hug, nearly lifting her off the ground.

  Viola chuckled, her usual composure momentarily shaken. “Whoa there, kid. Miss me that much?”

  “Of course!” Minka said, pulling back but keeping her hands on Viola’s shoulders. Her eyes sparkled with joy. “Where have you been? You just disappeared! I thought…” Her voice faltered, and she looked down. “I thought something might’ve happened to you.”

  Viola’s expression softened, a rare moment of sincerity flashing across her face. “I’m tougher than I look, Minka. Nothing’s taking me down that easily.” She glanced toward Sannet, who was watching the reunion with a quiet, unreadable expression.

  “Good to see you back, Viola,” Sannet said, her tone polite but distant.

  Viola smirked, waving a hand dismissively. “Missed me too, didn’t you, Sannet? It’s okay, you don’t have to say it out loud.”

  Sannet rolled her eyes but didn’t respond, returning her attention to stirring the pot over the fire.

  Leanna stepped forward, her earlier conversation with Viola still lingering in her mind. “Minka, Viola was just—”

  “I was just reminding Leanna that she’s more than capable of leading without that shiny armor of hers,” Viola interrupted, giving Leanna a sly grin. “She doesn’t need it to kick ass.”

  Minka tilted her head, looking between the two of them. “Leanna doesn’t need armor. She’s the strongest person I know.”

  Leanna blinked, caught off guard by Minka’s casual but heartfelt statement. “Thanks, Minka,” she said quietly, her cheeks tinged with color.

  “Now, what’s cooking?” Viola asked, rubbing her hands together and sniffing the air. “Hope it’s better than the last batch of whatever you called soup, Sannet.”

  “It’s stew,” Sannet replied flatly, but there was a faint twitch at the corner of her lips.

  “You say stew, I say mystery sludge,” Viola teased, settling down by the fire.

  Minka joined her, sitting cross-legged and leaning slightly against her side. “I’m just glad you’re back,” she said softly.

  Viola reached up and ruffled Minka’s hair, a rare moment of affection. “Yeah, yeah. Don’t get all mushy on me.”

  Leanna sat across from them, her gaze fixed on the fire. The warmth of the camp felt a little brighter now, the weight on her shoulders a little lighter. Viola’s words still echoed in her mind, and for the first time in a long while, she began to believe them.

  As the cleaning wrapped up, Minka handed the last bowl to Viola, who dried it with a clean cloth. The rhythmic movements helped settle Minka’s restless thoughts, but her earlier words lingered. She looked at Viola, who had fallen uncharacteristically quiet.

  “Hey,” Minka said, breaking the silence, “you really think I’ll figure it out? All of this?”

  Viola stopped mid-motion, the bowl still in her hands. For a moment, her usual playful demeanor flickered, replaced by something softer, more serious. She set the bowl down and leaned against the nearby table, crossing her arms.

  “I do,” she said, her voice calm but steady. “You’ve got something most people don’t—something even the Ravager doesn’t have.”

  Minka tilted her head, curiosity sparking in her eyes. “And what’s that?”

  “Hope,” Viola said simply. “You’re not just fighting to survive or to win. You’re fighting because you believe things can get better. You believe people can change.”

  Minka’s brow furrowed as she processed Viola’s words. “Is that… a good thing? Sometimes it feels like hope just gets in the way. It makes me hesitate when I should act.”

  Viola’s lips twitched into a faint smile. “It’s not a weakness, Minka. It’s a strength. You see the good in people, even when they don’t see it in themselves. That’s rare.”

  Minka looked down at her hands, her fingers brushing against the edge of the basin. “It doesn’t feel like enough. The Ravager doesn’t hesitate. She knows what she wants and goes after it. Sometimes I wonder if I should be more like her.”

  Viola stepped closer, placing a hand on Minka’s shoulder. “You’re not the Ravager, and thank the stars for that. She’s all power and no heart. You’ve got both, and that’s what makes you stronger than you realize.”

  Minka’s shoulders relaxed slightly under Viola’s touch. She glanced up, a tentative smile forming. “You’re a lot better at this pep talk thing than you let on.”

  Viola shrugged, her smirk returning. “Don’t tell anyone. I’ve got a reputation to maintain.”

  They both laughed softly, the tension between them easing further. Viola picked up the cloth again, resuming her drying as Minka started stacking the clean dishes.

  As they worked in silence, Minka’s thoughts lingered on Viola’s words. She didn’t feel strong, not yet. But maybe, just maybe, there was something in her that could carry her through the storm ahead.