"What do you mean?" Amethyst leaped up, her rage—and confusion—cracking her voice.
Kael threw up his hand, his movements serene, inviting her to sit. But she didn't. She flung herself at him, eyes blazing like an uncontrollable tempest. The unbridled force of her tackle sent him toppling backwards, the back of his head hitting the wooden floor, the sound a dull, nauseating thud.
She didn't look like she did a moment before. Her face was contorted—unrecognizable. As if something had broken inside her. As if she was a killer with nothing to lose. Her fist shook suspended in the air, awaiting his next breath to justify it.
For an instant, I thought there was no chance she'd really hit the man who adopted her—saved her.
But I was wrong. Dead wrong.
Amethyst stood tense, chest heaving, fists balled at her sides trembling. Kael had not moved from where he'd fallen—his hand on the ground, blood running down his temple. I could see the shock in her face, the pain struggling its way up amid all that anger. The silence that followed her outburst was heavy, suffocating. Even I lacked the nerve to break it.
You lied to me, she breathed, her voice shaking. "All these years. and you lied.".
Kael did not flinch. "I did what I had to do.".
That isn't good enough!" she cried, advancing on him again. "You let them take her, didn't you? My sister—my family. You just stood there and did nothing.".
Kael's eyes met hers—haunted, empty, immeasurably older than the man we believed we knew. "I did not stand by. I made a choice."
A choice?" Her voice trembled on the edge of desperation. "You chose them over us?
"I decided to survive," he replied softly. "Yours. Mine. Everyone else in that village. I made the decision no one else had the guts to make."
She gasped for breath. She just stared at him, mouth agape as if she needed to scream again—but the scream just wouldn't come.
It was then that Kael stood up, slowly, as though the weight of all that he was bearing was at last crushing him. He looked at both of us, speaking in a voice little more than a whisper.
Sorry," he told her. "For everything. For the lying, for the silence, for the cost to you. But I swear to you, Amethyst. I had no choice.".
Her eyes smoldered with a fire, but never extinguished.
And in the silence, I knew forgiveness never would—but the truth had finally come out.
Amethyst didn't speak. Her fists loosened only slightly, but her glare didn't falter. The weight of Kael's words hovered between them, thick as smoke. I could feel it too—somewhere in my chest, clawing at the part of me that still wanted to believe he was someone unshakable, someone right. But watching him now, I saw something else: a man unraveling.
He wiped the blood from his brow, then let his arm fall to his side like it no longer had the strength to be useful. "You don't have to forgive me," he said, voice hoarse. "I stopped expecting that a long time ago."
"That's convenient," Amethyst muttered, stepping back. Her hands fell to her sides, but I could still see the storm brewing behind her eyes. "Say sorry, say you had no choice... then just walk away from it all, like we're supposed to carry it for you."
"I never wanted you to carry it," Kael replied, sharper this time. "I kept it from you because I thought I could bear it myself. I didn't want this rage to eat you the way it's eaten me."
"And yet here we are," she snapped.
I shifted uncomfortably, unsure if I should interrupt. My instinct screamed to jump in—to say something, anything to ease the tension—but part of me knew they needed this. Maybe they'd needed it for years.
Kael took a step forward, slow and steady. "When they came for her... for your sister... it wasn't a raid. It was a bargain. A sick, calculated bargain made by people who valued numbers more than lives. I fought it. I argued, threatened, begged—but in the end, it was her or everyone. And she... she volunteered."
Amethyst's breath caught in her throat.
"She chose?" she said, barely audible.
Kael nodded solemnly. "She made me promise never to tell you. Said you'd throw yourself into hell trying to get her back."
Silence again. This one felt different—emptier. As if the fire had burned too hot and left behind only ash.
"She was right," Amethyst murmured. "I would've."
My heart ached just hearing her say it.
Kael stepped back, the emotion on his face unreadable now. "I know I failed you. I know I failed her too. But every second you're alive, Amethyst, is because she loved you more than anything. Don't waste that."
Amethyst looked away, her jaw clenched tight, and I realized she wasn't just fighting her anymore—she was fighting herself. The grief, the betrayal, the guilt.
She turned toward me. "Auren... can we go?"
I nodded, silently. My voice didn't trust me.
Kael didn't stop us. He just stood there—shoulders slumped, gaze distant—as we walked past him and toward the fading afternoon light outside.
Whatever just broke inside that house… it wasn't going to be easily fixed.
But at least now we knew the shape of the fracture.
The door shut behind them with a dull thud, and Kael stood in the stillness, rubbing the back of his neck. The sting of Amethyst's words lingered more than the bruise on his head. He glanced at the sword leaning against the far wall—silent, as it always was. At least, until it wasn't.
A faint shimmer broke the quiet.
The sword pulsed once, and a soft sigh filled the room, like wind slipping through a forgotten crack. Then, without drama or warning, a figure emerged—gliding forth like she'd always belonged to the air. The woman was elegant in that impossible, ageless way, hair like liquid dusk, skin faintly glowing. A silver pattern snaked along her arms like living ink, shifting with each movement.
Kael didn't even flinch.
"Took you long enough," he muttered, arms crossed. "I was starting to think you'd gotten bored of me."
Her smile curled mischievously. "You? Never. I just prefer to make an entrance after the storm settles."
He rolled his eyes. "And you just happened to miss the part where I got knocked flat on my ass?"
"Oh no," she said with a light laugh. "I saw the whole thing. Honestly, Kael... she's a firecracker. You sure you didn't train her too well?"
He chuckled, limping over to the sword and tapping its hilt. "What can I say? The girl's got grit."
"And the boy?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. "That one's a slow burn. But I like his eyes. Naive. Hopeful. You've surrounded yourself with children."
Kael smirked. "They're not children. They're just... new. Raw. Still figuring out where their pain ends and their strength begins."
She stepped closer, a ghost of a smile still playing on her lips. "And yet you keep pushing them like seasoned soldiers."
"They will be seasoned," he replied. "One way or another."
A brief silence passed, soft and not uncomfortable.
"Maybe go a little easier on them," she said gently. "Just a touch. They're not like you."
Kael tilted his head. "That's the whole point."
She gave him a look—somewhere between fond and exasperated—then began to fade, her form dispersing like petals caught in a breeze.
"Don't break them before the world does," her voice whispered just before vanishing completely.
The sword dimmed. The air stilled.
Kael exhaled slowly, gaze lingering where she'd stood. Then he turned back toward the door, listening to the distance where Auren and Amethyst were already walking into whatever came next.
He shook his head, smirking faintly.
"Still kids."