Chapter Twenty-Three
ELYSSARA
I wake to the sound of the wind whispering through the trees, the cool night air brushing over my skin.
The fire has burned down to embers, the remnants of a shared dinner are strewn across the table, and the subtle aroma of cooked meats drifts from the hearth.
My body feels heavy, thick with a bone-deep exhaustion that comes after surviving something I probably shouldn’t have.
The others are curled up on the floor—Seren under Ronyn’s cloak, Therion on the floor using his own as a pillow.
I’m grateful they’re getting some respite after our arduous journey through the forest, not to mention duskprowlers and leaving everything they knew in the Virellin slums.
The ache in my leg is dull now, more of a throb from the stitches than the searing agony from before. I shift slightly, wincing at the stiffness, and that’s when I feel him.
He’s seated next to the cot, his broad shoulders hunched forward, elbows resting on his knees.
His face is turned toward the fire, the faint light catching the sharp lines of his jaw and the unruly waves of his hair.
The steady rise and fall of his chest is the only indication that he’s relaxed, though his posture is rigid. Vigilant.
A slight flicker of surprise chases up my spine at his presence. “You’re still here,” I murmur, my voice hoarse from disuse.
He turns immediately, his piercing blue eyes locking on to mine. There’s a softness there that catches me off guard—concern, relief, something unspoken.
“I am. Where else would I be?” he replies, his voice low, grounding.
I offer a weak smile, shifting slightly to sit up. “I thought you might’ve gotten bored. Sitting around, babysitting the slum girl.”
His lips twitch, but the smirk doesn’t quite form. “You’re not so boring, Lightborne. You’ve got a habit of keeping things... interesting.”
I huff a quiet laugh, though it takes more effort than I’d like to admit. My gaze drifts to the shelves lined with vials and trinkets, the faint scent of herbs lingering in the air. “Mavyrn. She’s... something else.”
Kael nods, his expression thoughtful. “She’s an Arcanist,” he says, watching the embers. “It’s... rare. Part inherited, part learned. Some sort of blend between magic and science.” He pauses, breath catching in his throat like he’s hesitating. “She was close to my father,” he says eventually.
There’s a weight to his words, something guarded, but I press gently. “Your father?”
His jaw tightens, just slightly, before he speaks. “He died. A long time ago.” His eyes flicker toward the fire, the light reflecting a storm of emotion he doesn’t voice.
“I’m sorry,” I say softly, my chest tightening at the heaviness in his tone.
He shrugs, but it’s not dismissive. “It’s part of life. Loss. Death. It shapes us.”
For a moment, I consider telling him about my parents, about their sacrifice for me, about the simmering vengeance that drives me forward. But the words lodge in my throat. Trust doesn’t come easily, not when survival has always hinged on keeping parts of myself hidden.
“They’re gone too,” I say instead, my voice barely above a whisper. “My parents.”
Kael’s gaze snaps back to mine, his expression softening. “I’m sorry.”
I nod, swallowing hard. “It was a long time ago, as well.” The words slip out before I can stop them, though I don’t give much away.
I can’t. Their names have vanished from the lips of everyone in Virellin—as if they never existed.
Ghosts of the past that live on crumpled parchment in my pocket. No. I won’t say more—this is safer.
His hand moves slightly, as if he’s about to reach for mine, my breath hitches, but he stops himself. Instead, he leans closer, his voice quieter now. “That's why I need to find my sister. She’s all I have left.”
His words settle over me like a weight, heavy and raw. For the first time, I see the cracks in the armor he wears so well—the pain, the determination, the desperation that drives him.
“You’ll find her,” I say, and for once, I mean it. “If anyone can, it’s you.”
Kael’s lips press into a thin line, but he nods, the faintest flicker of hope sparking in his eyes. “I have to.”
Silence stretches between us, but it’s not uncomfortable. It’s a shared understanding, a fragile connection forged in the quiet of the night.
I lean back against the cot, exhaustion tugging at the edges of my consciousness. “You should sleep. You can’t protect me if you’re dead on your feet.”
Kael smirks faintly, his expression softening. “I’ll rest when you’re strong enough to keep yourself out of trouble.”
I roll my eyes, the faintest smile tugging at my lips. “Bossy.”
“Always,” he replies, and there’s a warmth in his tone that makes my chest ache in a way that has nothing to do with pain.
As my eyes drift closed, I let myself believe, just for a moment, that maybe, just maybe, I can trust him. But the secrets I keep remain locked away, their weight a reminder that trust is a luxury I can’t afford—not yet.