Chapter 11
Kaia
Two days.
Two days of rest, careful movements, and shadows hovering like overprotective nursemaids.
I’m almost healed now. The sharp pain in my ribs has faded to a dull twinge—barely there unless I move wrong. My body feels lighter. Stronger.
But I need out of this house.
I’m already dressed. Boots laced. Nowhere to go.
I’ve been staring at the same four walls, the same concerned faces with too many questions for too long.
I need air.
The shadows hover near the walls—watching, waiting, but not crowding me like they did before.
Calmer today.
A knock at the door.
“I know you’re pacing in there,” Revna calls through the wood. “Come walk with me before you wear a hole in the floor.”
The door opens before I can answer.
Revna leans against the frame, eyebrow raised, looking entirely too smug.
I move to step forward—and Mouse flops dramatically across my boot, pinning me in place.
“Mouse.”
He doesn’t budge.
“Mouse, I need my boot.”
He flops dramatically to the side, purring louder.
I roll my eyes and step over him. “You’re ridiculous.”
Bob salutes as I follow her out.
We pass Torric and Aspen in the hallway—Torric mid-argument with Finn about something, Aspen shaking his head. Torric clocks me, eyes narrowing like he’s assessing damage. I wave him off before he can say anything.
The village is small. Lived-in. Warm.
Smoke curls from chimneys. Kids run between houses, laughing. The smell of bread and something herbal drifts through the air.
And people notice me immediately.
Fantastic.
Respectful nods. Wide eyes. Some awe.
But not fear.
Because these are Kieran’s people. They trust his instincts.
A baker—older woman with flour on her apron—hands me a sweet bun with a shy smile. “For you, miss.”
I take it, surprised. “Thank you.”
She nods and disappears inside.
A mother pulls her child closer as we pass, but the kid whispers loudly, “She’s the wing lady, Mama.”
I freeze.
Revna smirks. “You’re already a legend.”
“I didn’t—”
“Doesn’t matter. You are.”
We’re halfway through the square when a little boy—maybe six or seven—walks straight up to me.
He’s got messy dark hair, dirt on his knees, and the kind of fearless curiosity only kids have.
“Is it true you have wings?” he asks.
I stare at him.
Revna raises an eyebrow, amused.
“I—” I glance at Revna.
She nods. “Go on.”
I swallow. Look back at the kid.
He’s waiting. Eyes wide. Hopeful.
Fuck it.
My shoulder blades warm as I let my wings flare—just a little. Light and shadow rippling softly behind me.
The kid’s face lights up like I just gave him the best gift in the world.
His mother gasps. A dozen people stop what they’re doing and stare.
And I let them sprawl out behind me.
It’s awkward as hell. But the look on the little boys face is what I focus on.
Because it feels a lot like belonging.
It hits me hard. I’ve never felt that before.
Mouse flops proudly at my feet. Bob stands like a sentinel. Linda’s notebook flickers—probably documenting “appropriate wing display protocol.”
The boy grins. “They’re so cool.”
I can’t help it. I smile back.
We wave goodbye and keep walking. I catch sight of movement across the square.
Darian.
Malrik’s explaining something to him—hands gesturing, voice low. Darian’s listening hard, posture smaller than usual.
Our eyes meet for half a second.
No guilt. Just acknowledgment.
Darian looks away quickly.
Malrik glances between us. Says nothing. He noticed. Of course he did.
Revna lifts one brow. “Interesting.”
“Don’t.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You were thinking it.”
She smirks. “Guilty.”
We end up at a bench near the edge of the village, overlooking small fields that seem impossible in this corrupted place.
Revna sits with the kind of ease that comes from centuries of existing. I sit carefully, ribs protesting slightly.
“You’re carrying too much for one person,” Revna says.
I deflect immediately. “I’m fine.”
“You’re not.”
I don’t answer.
She doesn’t push. Just waits.
Finally, I exhale. “I don’t know how to do this.”
“Do what?”
“Be what they need. Be what I’m supposed to be.”
Revna tilts her head. “Who says you’re supposed to be anything?”
“Everyone.”
“Everyone is an idiot.”
Despite everything, I almost laugh.
Revna’s expression softens—just slightly. “Kieran wasn’t always like this, you know.”
I glance at her. “Like what?”
“Quiet. Controlled. Brooding.” She waves a hand. “He used to laugh. Loudly. Dangerously.”
I try to picture it. Can’t.
“What happened?”
“He learned that caring too much burns the world down.” She pauses. “So he stopped letting himself care. Until you came back from the dead. When he felt you again.”
My chest tightens.
“He’s a complete disaster around you,” Revna continues. “Won’t admit it. Everyone sees it. Malrik’s keeping score.”
“Revna—”
“I’m just saying.” She grins. “It’s entertaining.”
I try not to react. Fail miserably.
Revna pauses, her eyes narrowing thoughtfully.
“Oh—reminds me. That little glowing menace—Walter, I think? He brought me to something yesterday. Wouldn’t leave me alone until I found it.”
She reaches into her pocket and pulls out—
The Heart of Eternity.
My breath stutters. I go still.
The shadows press closer—gentle, relieved.
Mouse purrs softly like he’s content.
Revna holds it out gently. “He seemed very sure you need this now.”
I take it carefully. The pendant is warm in my palm. Something in my ribs loosens.
“How did he—”
“He was… persistent,” Revna says. “To say the least.”
I close my fingers around it. The warmth settles something I didn’t realize was still fractured.
“Thank you,” I say quietly.
I hold the pendant for a moment, feeling its weight, then secure it around my neck.
The warmth settles against my chest.
Movement catches my eye—three shadows I don’t recognize drifting toward me from the edges of the square. Hesitant. Curious.
They settle near my feet alongside the others.
Revna watches with quiet amusement. “Cute. Your little shadow family is growing.”
I glance down. Bob’s already organizing them into formation. Linda’s hovering protectively. Mouse looks smug.
“I didn’t—”
“You did,” Revna says. “Whether you meant to or not.”
The village hums around me. Kids still watch from corners.
I’m not invisible here.
I’m not a weapon.
I’m not a mistake.
Mouse headbutts my ankle gently.
Like he’s saying, It’s time.