The roof leaked again.
Rain fell in slow, steady drops through a crack above Leia's corner of the room, landing in a metal basin with dull, wet taps. She counted them like time — like a clock too tired to chime.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
It was their third storm in a week, and the shelter was beginning to rot. The walls were damp. Their sleeping mat had started to smell. Leia tried folding her blanket to stay dry, but no matter how many layers she added, the cold always found her.
Outside, thunder rumbled faintly. A distant growl. She imagined the Crows estate far beyond the wall — warm, golden, glowing.
Were they even thinking about her?
Probably not.
---
Selene stirred beside her and sat up. Her hair, once thick and radiant, now clung to her neck in dull strands. But her eyes were alert. Always.
"The basin's full," she said, pointing at the dripping corner.
Leia stood wordlessly, picked it up, and poured the water out the back door into the mud. When she returned, Selene was already tending to the roof with a patch of cloth and candle wax — their desperate fix for everything broken.
The silence between them had grown more frequent. Not angry silence. Just… weary.
Sometimes there were no words left.
---
They ventured out once the rain lightened. The street was half-empty, most vendors still waiting out the storm. Mud squelched underfoot as Leia and Selene made their way toward the healer's tent near the central lane — a faded gray canvas shack run by a moody old man with more experience than manners.
Inside, it smelled of dried herbs and copper.
"Still breathing, I see," the healer muttered as they entered.
Selene smiled politely. "We're not here for charity."
Leia offered a folded cloth. "Cleaned from the laundry tent."
The healer took it, grumbled under his breath, and handed over a small pouch of powdered leaf and a roll of bandage.
"Still no aura?" he asked, looking Leia over.
She didn't answer. She didn't have to.
He clicked his tongue. "Pity."
He didn't mean it cruelly, but it stung anyway.
---
They left in silence, walking beneath dripping eaves. A few boys passed by, sparring with sticks and laughing about how their cousin's aura had cracked a rock in two.
Leia tried not to listen.
Selene paused near a closed fruit stall and leaned against the wall. She looked tired — more than usual.
"Sit," Leia said quickly.
"I'm fine."
"You're not."
Selene smiled gently and sat. "You sound like your father when you're serious."
Leia froze.
It was the first time in weeks that he had been mentioned.
Selene seemed to realize it too and looked away.
"I used to think he loved us," Leia whispered. "Even if he never said it."
Selene reached for her hand. "He loved his legacy more."
Leia squeezed back. "Then maybe it's good I wasn't born with power. Maybe that saved me from becoming like him."
Selene looked at her — really looked at her — and for the first time in days, Leia saw tears.
Not from weakness.
But from pride.
"You were always the strongest one in that house," her mother said. "Even when they couldn't see it."
Leia didn't speak.
There was nothing to say.
Not yet.
But in her chest, beneath the ache and hunger, a small ember stirred.
---
That night, as the storm faded and the basin filled again, Leia lay awake staring at the ceiling.
She didn't know what tomorrow would bring.
But she was still here.
Still breathing.
Still fighting.
Even if no one remembered her name.