Arcane-Shattering time(Timebomb)

A/N: Change this universe's jinx name to "Powder," as it makes more sense story-wise, 

That was it. This was the end. This was how it would all go.

Could I accept such a thing? No, I couldn't. Nor could I embrace it.

The mute girl—quiet but strong, soft yet always strong-hearted—she had always been like that. She made no sound, but her actions spoke for her. And right now, her actions spoke louder than ever.

I didn't faint or fade into darkness after the blow to my head. Instead, I felt paralyzed from the neck down. It was only temporary, I hoped, but my heart hurt more than any wound could. I had only known the young girl for a short time, yet why… why did it hurt so much? It stung, a sharp ache in my chest.

"Isha, thank you," Powder said, standing on her feet. She rubbed the blood from her face and patted the young girl's head, ruffling her hair.

I should have known it from the beginning, but I didn't. This mute girl wasn't under Silco—no, she was under Powder all along. Maybe as a spy, or an infiltrator. A smart tactic, but brutal.

Isha—that was the young girl's name—her eyes showed so many emotions, but the strongest was guilt.

Powder knelt down, her voice softening. "Isha, my final lesson: in this world, there are those who side with good and those who side with evil. This Ekko guy… I know you thought he was your friend, but he chose the wrong side. No matter your hesitation or guilt, you've done the nation a favor. You've saved Zaun. You're a hero."

Powder wrapped her arms around Isha, but the girl didn't respond. She didn't reciprocate the embrace. The iron pipe in her hands dropped to the ground with a clang.

Then, for the first time, Isha spoke—or rather, she tried to. Her eyes were tearing up, her voice muffled and broken. She had made the tough choice: to save a friend from a friend. And though she had made her decision, she was filled with an unbearable sadness swelling from her heart. Isha was never good at expressing her feelings—she didn't know how.

She buried her face into Powder's shoulder, but her eyes stayed locked on me. I could tell she was biting down on Powder's shoulder, her tears streaming silently. Powder didn't mind the bite mark.

Isha made muffled sounds, hard to understand but impossible to ignore. I didn't want to understand them, but I couldn't help it.

"S-sorry… S-sorry…" The sound of a young girl, no different from a child trying to apologize with all her heart, was heartbreaking to watch. I would've felt pity if not for what she had done to me.

"Shh, shh," Powder whispered, calming Isha down. "It's alright. I know Silco forced you to come down here, but it's over now. He won't separate us again. We'll be together forever. I won't let Silco use you for his twisted mind games anymore. We're going home."

But Isha was too busy staring at me. The young girl hated that she had to choose. She hated seeing the two people she had a connection with trying to hurt each other.

Powder finally picked up the pistol from the ground, holding Isha in one arm and the gun in the other. Silco had planned for Isha to keep tabs on the strange spy from Vander's pack—me, Ekko—who was working in the mines. He needed someone who could easily infiltrate the circle, and who better than a child? No one would suspect her.

So, he gave Isha the task: go down to the mines, gather information, and report back. In return, she would no longer be given tasks and could stay by Powder's side for as long as she wanted. At first, Isha had agreed.

But over the days, as she got to know me, Isha began to feel conflicted and hurt. She wanted to help, but she also wanted her mother figure in her life. She wanted her freedom, but at the cost of others. How could she forgive herself? How could she express these indescribable feelings? Was it sadness? Sorrow? Guilt?

No. It was simpler than that. It was fear.

But when she saw Powder on the ground, about to be hurt, Isha moved without thinking. She ran—not away, but toward her friend who was hurting her other friend. She picked up a pipe and struck the back of my neck.

She had finally made her decision, and she hated that there had been a choice to make in the first place.

The ash and smoke from the previous explosion filled the workstation and spread throughout the entire mining factory. The sound of footsteps echoed as a unit of armed guards marched in formation through the door Powder had opened. They were reinforcements Silco had sent to the mines in response to the recent chaos. They came heavily armed and dangerous, their presence suffocating.

The workers froze in fear. The recent chaos had left them all alert and terrified. It was too much—they could barely grasp the situation.

I lay frozen, betrayed and hurt. I knew I was alone in that moment.

"I'd say it was fun, but it wasn't. You're a big pain," Powder said, pointing the gun at me, ready to shoot.

But a small hand reached for the gun, trying to lower it. It was Isha.

Powder was annoyed but didn't shoot. She would never truly traumatize Isha—the girl held an important place in her heart. Powder knew the damage trauma could do to a mind, and she didn't want that for Isha. So, she held her gun away from me. Though she didn't want to, though she wanted to get rid of me, Isha was far more important.

"You're lucky, scrappy boy," Powder said, her voice cold. "Once we're done here, you'll be locked up in Silco's homemade version of Stillwater. Can't have a revolutionary like you running around these mines, can we?"

The battle was over. We fought, and we lost.

The back of my head rested against the cold concrete ground. I had tried—I truly had. The effort and spirit were there, but not the luck.

The entire underground mining factory would soon be littered with Silco's personal troops, ensuring no more mishaps would occur. It was pure chaos.

Just thinking of Scar and the leftover miners made me lose hope. It had been a losing battle from the very start. That much was undeniable.

Even with all the havoc surrounding me, and the guards flooding the workstation with rifles pointed at the workers, I noticed something—a subtle but familiar sound beneath the chaos. It wasn't the footsteps of the guards. It was a sound only the miners and tinkers would recognize.

It was the sound of drills.