CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE #2
I blinked.
Wait. Aran was the sensible one?
I stared down at my hands, flexing my fingers against the cold like that would help.
“Maybe I don’t want it to happen again.”
“You’re scared,” he said.
I huffed, not even bothering to look at him. He was putting words in my mouth. Didn’t make them less true.
“Of course I’m scared.”
The river next to us was too still. I kept my eyes on it because I couldn’t look at him. Not with everything bubbling up inside me. I didn’t want to see pity in his face. Or worse, fear.
“I can’t control it when I need to,” I said. “And when I don’t want it to happen, it comes rushing out of me, tenfold. I don’t even know how you’re sitting so close to me. It isn’t safe.”
“I’m not scared of you,” he said, a little too casually. But there was something in the way he said it. “I mean… I was. But I’m not anymore. I don’t think.”
I turned to him, my eyes narrowing.
“You should be.” The words just came out. Sharp and bitter. “I couldn’t save my brother, I couldn’t save Novil. I couldn’t even protect myself from those monsters.”
Aran’s face shifted. Just slightly. But I saw it.
“If only I could’ve done to them what I did to you,” I muttered. “If I’d had the fire then. If I knew how to use it.”
“You can’t keep dwelling on the past, Kera,” he snapped. “It’ll destroy you.”
“Don’t tell me what’s good for me.”
Then he reached for me, like an idiot. Like that would help. Like I hadn’t scorched him the last time he did.
Boys never learn, but I hope you do.
My brother’s words came back to me. It should have comforted me, to remember him. To hear his words in my mind again. But it only poured gasoline on the fire inside me. And that’s not what I wanted. I wanted to take control, not lose it again.
I shoved Aran’s hand off my shoulder, harder than I needed to.
“You’re not good for me!” I yelled. “When I saw you—I wanted you dead.”
His face went pale.
“You… wanted me dead?” he asked.
“How could you do it?” My throat burned.
Aran’s face twisted, guilt carved into every line. But his eyes gave him away, there was that flicker, that quiet here we go again, like he thought I should’ve let it go by then.
“They gave me no choice!” he snapped, arms flaring at his sides.
I shot to my feet, breath sharp, chest tight.
“Your word means nothing to me,” I spat. “I lost my brother because of you.”
“And I lost Selma because of them!” he threw back. “I ran the second I found out what they were planning.”
“You knew?” My voice rose. “And you didn’t warn us?”
My hands were already glowing, but I barely noticed. The heat crawled across my skin like it was trying to get out. Behind me, a tree split open with a sharp crack as flames burst from its trunk, racing up into the sky. The clearing turned gold, shadows twisting at the edges.
“Kera!” Aran’s voice cracked.
“YOU’RE AS GUILTY AS THEY ARE!” I bellowed.
The ground slipped away beneath me. Aran shrunk as he scrambled backward on his hands, staring up at me like he didn’t even know what he was looking at anymore.
“You didn’t shoot him,” I roared, my voice shaking with fury, “but you might as well have. You let him die. You let them do what they did.”
”You don’t mean that!” he said.
The flames screamed higher, wild and alive, and my chest felt like it would split open. The power tore through me, fast and unstoppable.
“Kera!” Aran’s voice broke, but I barely heard it.
I looked down, my feet weren’t touching the ground anymore. I wasn’t standing, I was hovering.
My chest tightened and I tensed, every muscle locking up at once.
And then the power slipped.
I dropped, my knees hit the ground hard and I broke.
“I— I see him,” I sobbed. “His face, his lifeless eyes, him reaching for Isak— it won’t go away— it just won’t—”
Aran approached slowly, and pointed toward the tree.
“Kera… look.”
I blinked through the tears and turned my head. The tree behind me was blackened, scorched from root to branch, smoke curling toward the sky.
“I… I did that?”
“Yeah. You did.” he said, eyes still wide.
I don’t know how he wasn’t running. I hadn’t burned him, I’d burned a tree, but he didn’t even look afraid.
He looked proud.
I shook my head. “I didn’t mean to.”
“But you did,” he said. “You found your focus. It’s there, Kera. You just needed the right motivation.”
I let out a bitter breath.
“The right motivation? What—anger?”
He shrugged.
“Anger. Fear. Pain. Whatever you’re feeling. It’s like that woman said, it’s all in you. You just need to stop running from it.”
“But why couldn’t I protect myself before?” My voice broke. “If anger is all I need… then I should’ve burned the world down that night. I was angry. I was furious.”
He looked at me with something that almost felt like compassion.
“I don’t know what you felt,” he said. “But if it had been me... I don’t think I would’ve been angry.”
I frowned. “You wouldn’t?”
“No. I think I would’ve been confused. Scared. If everything around me was burning—if people I loved were dying—I wouldn’t be thinking about fighting back. I’d just be trying to survive.”
I bent down and gently lifted the bluebell from the ground. The only thing I’d been meaning to burn… and it didn’t even have a singe.
“I could’ve run,” I whispered. My fingers curled tighter around the flower. “But I couldn’t leave my family.”
He didn’t look at me.
“I ran, Kera. And I still hate myself for it.” His voice cracked. “No one wins in a situation like that. Stay, and you die. Run, and you never forgive yourself. Either way… you’re just fucked.”
“I should’ve killed them.” The words tore out of me. “I could’ve saved—”
“You couldn’t have saved them, Kera.” His voice cut through mine. “Maybe you could’ve hurt a few of them, but they would’ve killed you.”
“Might’ve been better.” The words were spilled out before I could stop them.
“Don’t say that.” He snapped. “Don’t say shit like that!”
His words landed like a blow. Not because of sheer force of his voice, but the rage. The way his face changed. The way he looked at me like I’d just said something unforgivable.
Did Aran care?
“You don’t know what they did to me,” I spat, the words breaking on the way out. “If you knew... you’d think it would’ve been better too.”
He didn’t answer.
Just stared at me like the words had knocked the air out of him.
He looked lost for a second, like he was trying to find the right words and knew they didn’t exist. He also knew that even reaching for me, trying to comfort me, would’ve made things worse.
He’d never dare lay a hand on me again. He could say he wasn’t scared of me all day long. , it didn’t matter. Because I was.
I was scared senseless that I’d hurt someone I cared about. Scared that the thing inside me—the power, the curse, whatever the Hel it was—would tear itself free and do something irreversible.
My voice came out low, shaking. “I just want them all dead.”
Gods, I sounded like a child.
”Me too.” he said.“But, maybe your ambitions are too big.”
My eyes snapped to his. “Too big?”
He gave a small nod. “Instead of burning a whole army… maybe start smaller.”
I let out a dry laugh. “A flower isn’t small enough?”
“It should be,” he said, almost smiling. “But you skipped the flower and torched a tree instead. What does that tell you?”
I turned, staring at the scorched bark. Smoke still curled into the air like a spirit trying to find its way out. Something twisted in my chest. Grief, yes, but something else too.
Pride.
“I guess I did.”
Aran’s voice hardened.
“Maybe it’s better you don’t forget. Think about Einar. About your family. About what they did to you.” His eyes burned. “Picture it. Feel it. Let it stay with you.”
He stepped closer, fists clenched.
“And the next time you see one of them… one of the Eredians… imagine roasting them alive in their armor.” He smiled, like he could feel the heat rising in me.
”I know you’re scared of hurting the wrong people, of burning everything to the ground.
But honestly? Fuck that, Kera. Fuck them. Fuck this world. Let. It. Burn.”
My fingers closed tight around the flower and I felt the heat bloom beneath my skin, rising like a second heartbeat.
And then Will’s voice cut through the trees.
“Kera? What’s happening?”
He jogged toward us, eyes bouncing between me, Aran, and the still-smoking tree behind me. I held out the remains of the flower, cupping it carefully in both hands.
“Look,” I whispered.
The petals were gone, burned away completely, but the ashes still held their shape in my palm. I don’t know what I expected him to say. I just needed him to see it.
He slowed, his steps faltering as his gaze dropped to my hands. Then his eyes lifted, up, past me, to the charred trunk just behind my shoulder.
His jaw dropped.
“You did that?” he asked.
“That’s not what I was trying to do. I don’t know how I—”
"Yeah," he cut in, eyes still wide. "How did you do that?”
"The woman told me to let it all out, face my fears, my emotions." I swallowed, still staring at the ashes in my palm. "And then Aran kept pushing me and it just... happened.”
Will’s whole body stiffened.
"He what?” he head snapped toward Aran. "You pushed her?”
"Not like that—” he explained.
Will wasn’t buying it. Not for a second. His eyes narrowed like he was waiting for Aran to slip and give him a reason to pounce. Aran stepped forward anyway, grin widening like he couldn’t help himself.
“You’re not getting it,” he said. “She soared. I’m serious. She lifted off the damn ground. It was horrifying. And incredible.”
Will stared at him like he’d lost his mind. “What are you talking about?”
“Kera. Fucking. Soared.”
Will glanced back at me.
”How?”
“It just... happened.” I said. ”I think I finally just let it all out and faced it. Like that woman said. All the things I’ve been trying not to feel, to bury..”
“So… going to her actually worked?” he asked. “It’s helping?”
I nodded slowly. “I think so.”
“I think I did a great job too,” Aran said, clearly proud of himself.
“Yeah,” I muttered, eyeing him. “At pissing me off.”
He flashed that smug grin of his. “You’re welcome.”
I rolled my eyes, but then something caught my attention. Will was gripping something, his fingers curled into a fist, but a glint of metal peeked out between them. A chain.
“What’s that?” I asked, nodding toward it.
He opened his palm. Nestled there was the blue crystal, wrapped tightly in steel wire, like a tiny cage. It hung on a thin chain, catching the light.
“I figured… if you wanted to keep it close to your heart,” he said, eyes flicking to mine, “this might make it easier.”
“You made that?” I asked, the words curling into a smile.
He gave the smallest nod, almost like he was embarrassed.
And then a slow clap erupted behind us.
“You made her a necklace?” Aran said, dragging the words out like they physically disgusted him. “What happened to 'they’re just overpriced rocks’?” He mocked.
Will glared at him, but he didn’t take the bait. Aran raised his hands in mock surrender, but the grin didn’t leave his face.
”I love it. Thank you.” I said, trying to ease the tension, taking it from his hand. I stepped between them, holding the necklace gently, then turned around and swept my hair aside.
“Will… would you?”
He froze for a second, like he hadn’t dared to hope I’d ask. Then his fingers brushed the back of my neck, warm and careful as he clasped the chain. I closed my eyes.
”Should I…leave?” Aran murmured in the background of my heartbeat thundering. ”Yeah. I’ll leave you to it.” he said as I heard him backing away.
“You actually soared?” Will asked, as soon as we were alone. “Gods, I can’t believe I missed it.”
His fingers were still at the back of my neck, lingering for a moment longer than necessary.
“I’m sorry if I’ve been a bit distant lately. It’s not you. It’s just, it’s been a lot.”
“You don’t need to apologize,” I said. “It’s been a lot for all of us. And I’m here for you, okay? Always.”
His expression broke, and I saw the cracks he’d been holding together all day.
“Gods,” he breathed. “I don’t fucking deserve you.”
I reached for his hand, wrapping my fingers around it and running my thumb gently across his knuckles.
“Stop,” I whispered, stepping closer. My other hand rose to his cheek. “Please. I’m sorry for what I said too. It wasn’t fair for me to be angry with you for leaving. And if you’re still blaming yourself for it... please stop. For me.”
He leaned into my touch like he needed it.
“I’ll stop if you do.” He said. It almost sounded like a dare.
“If I do?”
“I didn’t hear everything,” he said. “But I heard Aran say that you couldn’t have saved them. And he’s right. The asshole’s actually right for once, and you need to know that. I need you to hear that. What the Vultures did, that’s on them. Not you. Never you.”
He opened his arms, just a little, like an invitation he didn’t expect me to take.
And I caved. I stepped into him and folded myself into the space I’d missed more than I could admit.
His arms wrapped around me, warm and steady, and I melted into the safety of them like I’d never left.
And I wasn’t scared either, not of the fire, not of hurting him, not of whatever the hel I was becoming.
Because right then, in his arms, none of it mattered.
His embrace felt like home.