Page 399 of Eternal
She should be done. Should look like she won.
But she looked... sad, angry, tired. Like everything she believed in, slipped through her fingers.
I moved closer, voice low. “What did he say?”
She didn’t answer right away, she looked around like nothing made sense anymore.
Then she said, “Damir... I think… I think I was wrong.”
I blinked, trying to follow her. “What do you mean?”
She shook her head, voice shaking too. “The journal... the one they gave me… I think it wasn't hers. Not entirely."
I didn’t know what to say. I didn't want to say the wrong thing. So I stayed with her silence for a moment.
Then I took her hand, rough and warm. “Hey. Look at me.” She met my eyes, confused and broken. “We get the kids out of here first,” I said. “Then I’m taking you back home. We’ll deal with that journal later, okay? We’ll figure it out.”
Her eyes didn’t focus. They were empty, like she was drowning in something deeper than the blood on her skin. Then she fell to her knees harder. I crouched down beside her, reached out, and took her face in my hands. “Hey, baby,” I said, low and firm. “Eyes on me. Focus onme.”
She blinked slowly, like waking from a bad dream.
“I promise, we’ll find out everything. But right now, we save those kids. They need us.”
She nodded, barely.
We moved fast. I led her past the dark side rooms. I watched her as we crossed the threshold into that hallway, a line of doors hiding who knows how many lives.
She was strong, too strong for what she’d been through, but even now, her hands shook slightly.
Blood still stained her skin, but it wasn’t just exhaustion, it was something deeper.
Anger. Rage. And beneath that, something fragile, like she was breaking all over again.
Kids. Children, innocent, locked behind those doors, dressed in white like they were waiting to be sold. And she knew. She knew what it meant, and it tore her apart. I could see it in her eyes, madness tangled with confusion, like she wanted to rip everything down but didn’t know where to start.
She stopped at the first door, opened it slowly. The room was cold, but the fear inside burned hotter than any flame. A dozen kids sat there, silent, eyes large and dark and terrified.
White clothes, clean faces, but empty. Broken.
One little girl caught Azra's eye, a tiny thing with tangled blond hair and trembling hands. She whispered softly, “You have pretty eyes. Are you a princess?”
Azra’s face softened, she knelt down, brushing a stray lock of hair behind the girl’s ear. “No I’m not,” she said quietly, “But I’m here to make sure you get out of here. You’re going to be free.”
The girl blinked, unsure. “Free?”
Azra smiled, a small, painful thing. “Yeah. Free.”
I watched her, this woman who’d bathed in blood, who’d broken so many, and yet with this child, she was something else entirely. Tender.Human. And it made my chest ache.
She turned to me, eyes empty, devastated. “They don’t deserve this,” she said. “None of them.”
I nodded. “They don’t.”
We moved from room to room, opening doors, pairing kids up, older ones helping the younger, whispering reassurances in voices too soft for this place. I had to cover the eyes of one boy as we passed a pile of bodies in the hallway.
The stench was unbearable, but the boy’s eyes were sharper than mine, he knew what it meant. I whispered, “Keep your eyes closed. We’re getting you out.”
His small hand found mine, gripping tight.
