Aspen tilts his head, studying Darian thoughtfully.
Kieran’s jaw tightens, but he doesn’t object.
Darian looks like I just shattered his entire worldview.
“No.” He shakes his head. “She shouldn’t— I don’t deserve—”
He can’t finish the sentence.
I keep my voice calm. Logical. “Deserving has nothing to do with it.”
“Your bond with her, whatever it is…” I pause. “It’s real. Youbothfeel it. You’re as much a part of her as she is of you. That means something—whether you think it should or not.”
Walter bobs through the doorway—unbothered, curious, pulsing softly with faint purple light. He drifts toward Darian, hovers near his shoulder for a moment, then floats away like he’s satisfied.
Finn repositions in his chair, chaos magic settling slightly. “Sorry, man. It’s a package deal. Welcome to the madness.”
Torric mutters, “I am not babysitting his guilt spiral—”
Aspen smacks him lightly on the arm. “You’re being dramatic.”
Torric whirls on him. “I AM DRAMATIC.”
Finn cracks up.
I don’t bother hiding my amusement. He is—painfully so.
Kieran’s voice cuts through the noise. Quiet. Steady. Absolute.
“He stays.”
The room goes still.
Darian stares at Kieran like he doesn’t understand what just happened.
Kieran doesn’t elaborate. Just holds Darian’s gaze until Darian looks away first.
Torric mutters something under his breath but doesn’t argue further.
Aspen nods once—small, certain.
Finn grins. “See? Democracy.”
Idiotic. But apparently it works for them.
Darian’s hands loosen around the cup. Slowly. Like he’s afraid to believe it.
“…Thank you.” Barely a sound. Like he’s afraid saying it out loud will undo it.
He means it. That’s the part Torric hates the most.
The table softens.
It’s not forgiveness, but acceptance. For now.
I watch them all carefully.
This isn’t coincidence.
