Chapter 20
Kieran
I wake before dawn.
Not because I’m rested. Because I can’t sleep.
The house is quiet around me, the others lost in whatever dreams they’ve earned. I lie still for a long moment, staring at the ceiling, letting the silence press against my chest.
My thoughts won’t settle.
Kaia’s steadiness last night. The way she spoke to Elda like an equal. The way she didn’t flinch when Seren’s name came up.
Torric’s hand on her back. His kiss to her temple before he let her walk away with Darian.
Darian’s nervous energy. The garden I helped him prepare. The lights blooming as they rounded the corner together.
…Not my finest habit.
Finn’s silence at dinner. The grief he’s burying so deep I’m not sure even he knows it’s there anymore.
Malrik’s eyes tracking everything, already ten steps ahead.
And Sorrow’s Keep, waiting at the end of this road like a door I’m not sure any of us are ready to open.
I push myself upright and swing my legs over the edge of the bed.
The weight of it settles across my shoulders like armor I never asked to wear.
I don’t bother trying to sleep again. I get dressed and go looking for her instead.
I look for her. Not with Torric. Not with Aspen or Finn or Malrik.
Not with Darian, either—huh.
…Efficient. I meant efficient.
I find her in the garden.
Kaia stands near the garden wall, shadows curled around her ankles, staring at the fading lights Darian left behind. They’re almost gone now — just a few stubborn sparks drifting lazily through the air.
Does she have any idea how beautiful she is?
Bob is at her shoulder, posture rigid. Linda hovers nearby, radiating quiet energy. Steve is upside down in a bush, apparently stuck.
I don’t approach.
Not because she’s distant. Because I am.
I watch her from the doorway, and something in my chest aches in a way I don’t have words for.
She’s stronger than she was when I found her again. Steadier. More certain of who she is and what she’s capable of.
I don’t know where I fit into who she’s becoming.
I don’t know if I’m leading her toward something, or just following behind.
“You’re too quiet.”
Aspen’s voice is soft, but it still makes me flinch. I didn’t hear him approach.
He leans against the doorframe beside me, arms crossed, watching Kaia with the same quiet intensity I was.
“I’m always quiet,” I say.
“Not like this.” He tilts his head, studying me. “You’re carrying something.”
“I’m carrying a lot of things.”
“Mm.” He doesn’t push. Just stands there, steady and patient, waiting for me to break first.
I don’t.
After a long moment, he laughs softly — the kind of laugh that says he sees right through me and isn’t surprised by what he finds.
“She’s stronger than you think,” Aspen says. “So are you.”
I don’t respond.
But something settles, just slightly.
We stand in silence, watching her. The lights Darian made have mostly faded, just a few stubborn sparks drifting through the morning air. Kaia stands at the garden wall, shadows wrapped around her ankles like they’re keeping her company.
She doesn’t know we’re here.
A soft footstep behind us.
Malrik appears first — quiet, inevitable, like he stepped out of shadow itself. He doesn’t say anything. Just watches her alongside us, eyes sharp and thoughtful.
Another set of footsteps.
Finn stumbles up beside Aspen, hair a disaster, blanket still half-wrapped around his shoulders.
He takes one look at the three of us lined up like idiots staring dreamily at Kaia and snorts.
“Let me guess,” Finn mutters. “Kieran was here first.”
Malrik actually laughs — low, quiet, and too amused for my pride.
“Some things never change,” he says.
Aspen hides a smile. Finn smirks. Malrik just lifts a brow.
I don’t dignify any of them with a response.
But my jaw tightens.
The sun breaks over the horizon as we turn, heading for the front of the house.
Torric is checking gear, adjusting straps when we get there. Finn rubbing sleep from his eyes, dark circles bruising the skin beneath. At least his humor is still there.
Jerk.
Malrik counts heads. Darian stands apart as Kaia makes her way from the garden. She gives him a small smile that looks warmer than yesterday as she steps up beside me.
Her shadows act first. Bob snaps into a crisp salute.
Mouse flicks his tail once, a low acknowledgment.
Finnick dangles upside down from the eaves, chewing on a stolen pastry.
Patricia’s notebook flickers to life, already documenting.
Linda drifts close, radiating approval. Steve extracts himself from another bush and attempts a salute, wobbling dangerously.
“Ready?” she asks.
One word. Simple. Direct.
But it carries everything.
She’s not afraid. She’s centered. She trusts me. She sees me.
My chest aches.
“Yes,” I say.
It feels like a lie.
Elda steps forward as we approach the gate.
She doesn’t offer speeches or blessings. Just looks at each of us in turn, and finally settles on me.
“You’ll know when you’ve done what must be done,” she says quietly.
I nod once.
She steps aside.
I turn to the group. My group. My responsibility.
“Let’s move.”
We cross the threshold of the village, and the world shifts.
The air changes first — heavier, colder, carrying the faint tang of corruption. The wards fade behind us, their protection dissolving into memory.
Ahead, the road stretches toward the mountains. Toward Sorrow’s Keep.
I’ve been there once before. A long time ago, when it was just a relic. A monument to something ancient and forgotten.
It didn’t feel like this then.
It didn’t feel like it was waiting.
I glance over my shoulder.
Kaia walks in the center of the group, shadows swirling around her like a living cloak. Torric flanks her left, Aspen takes her right, as Finn trails behind, quiet but present. Malrik brings up the rear, eyes scanning the treeline.
Darian walks apart from the others, close enough to matter, far enough to give her space.
They’re all watching her.
They’re all following her.
Even if they don’t realize it yet.
I turn back to the road ahead.
I won’t lose you again.
The Keep waits.