Kael
The fire has burned low, but I haven't moved.
I sit with my back against the wall by my bed, knees pulled to my chest, arms wrapped tight around them.
My body is stiff, my fingers curled so hard against my sleeves that they ache. But I don't let go. If I let go, I might shake.
Elias sleeps near the fire.
Or at least, he looks like he does.
His breathing is even, his face slack, the firelight casting flickering shadows over his sharp features.
He looks calm. At peace. Like the weight of what he's done—what he's told me—doesn't press on him the way it does on me.
"You are a Veyrn. The very last one."
I can still hear his voice. Quiet. Steady. Unshaken.
The words coil tight in my skull, pressing, suffocating. I squeeze my eyes shut, but it doesn't help. The memories are there, waiting.
The bodies. The blood in the snow.
My stomach churns.
I press my forehead against my knees, my breaths coming shallow and uneven. This whole time, I thought that maybe I was just some lost kid that fell into that grave. That all those nightmares are nothing, meant nothing. But now—
I don't even know what I am anymore.
A slow shift in the silence.
My head snaps up just as Elias' eyes open.
For a moment, neither of us move. He studies me, gaze sharp, unreadable, like he already knows the storm in my chest is about to break.
His voice is rough with sleep. "Kael—"
"Would you kill me?" The words spill out before I can stop them. My own voice sounds strange—tight, uncertain.
Elias blinks.
I swallow hard, trying to keep my breathing even. "If I really am Veyrn. If I'm the last one. Shouldn't you kill me?"
His expression doesn't change. "No."
I shake my head. "Why not?"
"Because you haven't been given a chance to live yet." His voice is calm, firm. "Because you deserve that chance. But if you want to survive, Kael, you need to be stronger."
Something in my chest twists, sharp and painful.
Stronger.
He says it like it's that simple. Like strength is a choice.
I force out a breath. "Then why did you help me?"
Elias exhales slowly, rubbing a hand over his face. "I told you already."
"No," I snap. The anger comes sudden, sharp, pushing past the fear. I shove to my feet, pacing, my pulse hammering in my throat.
Anger claws its way up my ribs, pushing past the fear. I shove to my feet, pacing, my pulse hammering in my throat. "You knew what I was, and you still pulled me out of that grave. You knew what could happen, and you still kept me alive. Why?"
Elias watches me, his gaze steady.
I shake my head, my throat tightening. "Back in the village, they hated the Veyrn. They laughed while the effigy burned, danced around it like it was some kind of festival. They threw trash, spat on it—like even the idea of them wasn't worth the dirt under their boots. And you—"
My voice wavers, but I force it steady. "You saw all of that. You knew. And instead of telling me the truth, you fed me those pills, said they'd make me feel better—when I don't even know what they are."
My hands clench at my sides. "If everyone wanted someone like me dead… then what makes you any different?"
Elias sits up slowly, running a hand through his hair, watching me with unreadable eyes.
I keep going, my voice rising. "Why didn't you just leave me there? Why didn't you kill me then, if you knew what I was? Wouldn't it have been easier?"
Elias exhales through his nose. "Would you rather I had?"
I hesitate. My breath is ragged, my hands trembling.
He studies me, then shakes his head. "I told you. You deserved a chance to live."
I let out a sharp, bitter laugh. "A chance? At what? At running for the rest of my life? At hiding?" My chest is too tight, too full, every thought crashing into the next. My voice drops, raw and shaking. "Why am I any different? Why should I get to live when they wanted me dead?"
Elias's expression hardens. "Because you're not a monster."
The words hit something deep inside me, something I don't know how to name.
I squeeze my eyes shut. My body feels wrong, like my skin doesn't fit, like the weight of my own presence is unbearable.
The air crackles around me, and I feel it before I see it—the unnatural glow, curling off my fingertips, seeping into the strands of my white hair.
A blackish-purple light, flickering at the edges of my vision.
Elias is on his feet in an instant. Before I can do anything, his hands clamp down on my shoulders, firm and grounding.
"Breathe," he says, his voice steady. "Kael, breathe."
I drag in a shaky breath.
And another.
Slowly, the light dims.
I feel sick. Weak. My knees threaten to give out, but Elias doesn't let me fall.
For a long time, neither of us speak. The only sound is my breathing, too fast, too uneven.
Finally, my voice comes out small. "If you kept me alive to help me live, then teach me to fight."
A beat of silence.
Elias exhales, slow and measured. "I don't know how to stop that power in you," he says. "I don't know how to make it go away." His voice is careful, deliberate. "But I do know how to make you stronger. Strong enough to survive."
The words settle between us. My pulse is still hammering, my body taut with too much feeling, but now that the anger has burned itself out, all that's left is exhaustion—and guilt.
I drop my gaze, swallowing hard. "I'm sorry," I murmur. "For yelling. For—" I gesture vaguely at the space between us, at the sharp words I'd thrown like weapons. "I don't want to get mad anymore. I just… I just want to know the truth. About everything."
Elias watches me for a long moment. Then, without a word, he steps forward and places a hand on my head. A firm, grounding weight. Not forcing me to meet his gaze. Just… steadying.
"You're allowed to be angry," he says simply. "But don't let it decide who you are."
His hand lingers for a second longer before he steps back.
Then, without breaking eye contact, Elias reaches into his pocket and pulls out the last of the pills. He turns toward the fire and, without hesitation, tosses them in.
They hit the flames with a sharp crackle, burning for a brief moment in an eerie flash of purple before disappearing into the embers.
When he speaks again, his voice is firm. "I'm not going to hide you anymore."
There's something final in those words, something that makes my chest feel too tight, my breath too shallow. Before I can process what that means—what any of this means—Elias turns, rummaging through his things, and pulls out a simple woolen cap. Dark brown, rough-spun.
I blink at it.
He steps closer, pressing it into my hands. "But until we know what we're up against, you still need to be careful. Keep your hair covered when we're training outside in the morning."
For a moment, I just stare down at the cap. A stupid thing, really. It shouldn't mean anything. But somehow, it does.
When I look up again, I manage the smallest, hesitant smile.
Elias nods, almost like he'd been waiting for it. Then, quietly, he says, "Get some rest. I won't go easy on you, kid."