Twelve #3
The Overseers float around in eerie silence, their featureless faces somehow more attentive than usual, like they’re cataloguing our emotional decline so that they can weaponise it in future trials.
The Airborn are here—Alaris and Fen, both haunted by the absence of the third. The Waterborn pair sit with Callen, speaking only to each other, their eyes never straying from their bowls.
Marissa sits stiffly at my side, hands in her lap, staring at her food like it might poison her.
Kael is not at our table. He sits across the hall with Nyxen and Vaelis, perched on the edge of his seat, watching. He’s not eating. He’s not even pretending. His focus is fixed on Atheron and Rask, who sit a few tables over, speaking in low voices that occasionally break into laughter.
Something ugly hangs in the air between them.
Alaris keeps glancing around the room. Marissa's hands shake so badly she can barely hold her fork. Even the Overseers seem restless.
I try to eat, but it’s like chewing rocks. Every few seconds I look up to see Kael’s eyes on Atheron, then, unexpectedly, on me. When I lock eyes with him, it’s like the room is tilting. My throat constricts and I look away fast.
I sense the break before it happens. The way Kael’s shoulders rise. The twitch of his lips.
A moment later he’s up, striding across the hall.
A collective hush falls over the room.
Nobody moves. Nobody speaks.
Everyone knows exactly where he's going.
Kael steps in front of Atheron and Rask. His fingers flex at his sides, slow and dangerous. “You think this is funny?” he asks, voice flat but biting.
Atheron leans back with casual confidence. “I think many things are funny, Prince. Care to specify?”
Kael ignores him, turning his attention to Rask. “You killed Sorin. You probably killed your own man too. And don’t for a second think I forgot what you did before the trial. I will end you in the next. You’re fucking dead.”
Rask grins, all teeth and gums. “I’d like to see you try.”
“You will,” Kael says. “You’re the first on my list.”
Atheron snorts. "Threats bore me, Prince. I hope you'll be able to hunt down Rask here whilst protecting your little pet. Who knows what might happen to him while you're... distracted."
I freeze, heat rising up my spine. Atheron’s gaze flicks to me, then back to Kael, his mouth curling in satisfaction.
Kael’s facial expression doesn't change, but the shadows around him do.
The light overhead warps, as if it’s being sucked into a void. For a moment, Kael is nothing but shadows and teeth.
Rask stands, a head taller than Kael.
Kael moves first, placing a hand on the table, and every shadow in the room ripples outwards, writhing and deadly, converging on Atheron and Rask. The room darkens and the table itself trembles.
“Sit down,” Kael says to Rask.
The words are softly spoken, but something in them is absolute, like they came from someone else entirely.
Rask falters, then, as if compelled, drops into his seat.
Atheron remains standing, mask never slipping, but I see the agitation in his clenched fists.
“Impressive show,” he drawls. “But theatrics won’t save you when the time comes.”
Kael leans in, close enough that Atheron has the good sense to look away.
“Perhaps not,” he says. “But I’ll take you down with me, whatever the cost.”
Nyxen and Vaelis stir but remain seated. Nyxen spares me a resigned look, sighing deeply before pushing his plate away. Is he blaming me for Kael’s outburst? What have I done?
Kael turns and leaves, crossing the dining hall with that same coiled energy, heading straight for the exit. His eyes are solid black as he passes me.
The Overseers resume their fitful meandering as if nothing happened. They begin to sing:
Bright Mother, see us. Bright Mother, claim us.
But everyone else is silent, even after Kael is gone.
I don’t know what makes me do it—maybe it’s the ghost of that hand on my chin—but I get up and follow him.
The hallway outside the dining hall is empty.
Kael’s footsteps echo ahead, brisk and angry. I run to catch up with him, reaching him just as he opens the door to his room.
“Wait,” I call, louder than I intend to.
He stops but doesn't look my way. His arms are crossed, head bowed like he’s arguing with himself.
He continues into his room and I follow, closing the door behind me.
I reach for him, but I hesitate. My fingers hover in the gap between us. It feels endless.
I place my hand on his shoulder.
The moment I make contact, I can feel the Mana swirling inside him—a furious storm, barely contained.
I should pull away.
Instead, I step closer.
I should be afraid, but I’m not. I wrap my arms around his middle, moulding myself to his back. The cold pouring off him seeps into my skin, but I am undeterred as I rest my head between his tense shoulder blades.
He goes rigid, and for a second, I think he’s going to turn around and throw me from his room. But a moment later, he exhales, deep and breaking.
I let the silence hang between us.
“Why aren’t you frightened of me?” he breathes, something between a scoff and a sob.
“Should I be?” I ask.
He shakes his head, the movement almost involuntary. “You should be. You really should be.”
I squeeze him a little tighter in my embrace.
My own Mana moves—golden and bright, glowing like the first rays after a storm.
I don’t try to control it. It just happens: the warmth seeps from my chest into his skin, a wave of peace running around his torso, settling over his heart.
He shudders, then relaxes, as if some weight inside him just dropped away.
He shifts, trying to turn towards me, and I release my arms to let him. His eyes are entirely black but shimmering with flecks of gold now. I place my hands on his chest and let my light flow.
He looks at me with something like awe. “What is that?”
“I don’t know,” I admit, and it’s the truth.
He places his hand atop mine and takes a slow, steady breath. “You make it all go quiet—”
We stand like that for a long moment, our hands resting over his heart, a quiet circuit humming between us. Kael’s eyes start to return to normal, the black receding.
His gaze drops to my mouth.
He goes very still.
Like he’s just realised something dangerous.
His fingers tighten slightly over mine, then loosen, like he’s about to step back.
But he doesn’t.
He mutters something I don't catch.
Then he leans in and kisses me.
It is not a gentle kiss. There is nothing gentle about Kael. It is urgent and confused and hungry, like a starving thing that has found food after famine.
For a second I forget how to breathe. Then I kiss him back.
When he pulls away, his face is flushed, his hair wild, his lips swollen and parted in surprise. He stares at me like he’s never seen me before.
“That was a mistake,” he says quietly.
He pauses, but his breathing is uneven. “You shouldn’t trust me like that.”
He looks like he wants to say something else, but he doesn’t.
Before I can speak, he leaves.
Fast.
Like he’s escaping the scene of a crime.
The air crackles with leftover shock. I stand there, alone in his room, stunned, fingers tracing the outline of my lips.
For a moment, his heartbeat still echoes beneath my palms.
My Mana flickers in response.
But I force it down.
It doesn't go quietly.