The image catches. Pulls at memories I’ve been trying not to examine.
Not the same. Not even close.
But close enough to hurt.
“Kael?” Caleb’s voice. Concerned now. “Are you—?”
“I need air.”
I move toward the door. Not running. Not fleeing. Just moving. Before I do something I’ll regret. Before the fire answers the turmoil building in my chest.
“K—” Mara’s voice follows me.
But I’m already gone.
Chapter 27
Mara
The roof access door is heavier than it looks. I lean into it with my shoulder—still sore, still not quite right despite the bond keeping me functional—and it groans open onto a flat expanse of concrete and gravel.
The mountain range spreads out below, peaks catching the last light of day. We’re high enough that I can see other ridges, valleys thick with evergreens, the kind of wilderness that goes on forever. The Aurora outpost isn’t in the city—it’s built into the mountain itself, beyond the abandoned mining works. Vast and fortified and very much occupied.
The terrace wraps around this section of the building. Windows behind me glow with interior light, but out here it’s just mountain air and the endless view.
And Kael.
He stands at the far edge, hands braced against the low wall. His shoulders are rigid. Defensive posture that I recognize fromthe mountains when he was processing something he didn’t have words for.
I should leave. Give him space. Let him work through whatever seeing Elena and Lila stirred up.
Instead, I walk toward him.
My boots scrape on concrete. He doesn’t turn, but his shoulders shift slightly. Acknowledging my presence without looking.
“Hey,” I say when I’m close enough. Not touching. Just… near. “You okay?”
Stupid question. Obviously, he’s not okay.
“I needed air,” he says.
“Yeah. That checks out.” I lean against the wall beside him. Near enough to feel his heat. Far enough to give him an out if he needs it. “The whole ‘meeting your dead girlfriend’s descendants’ thing seems like it’d be rough.”
His jaw tightens. “They are not her.”
“I know. But they look like her, don’t they?”
Silence stretches. Long enough that I think maybe I’ve pushed too hard. Crossed a line I didn’t know existed.
Then: “Yes.”
The word comes out quiet. Flat. Like he’s admitting something that costs him.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “That must be… I don’t even know. Confusing? Painful?”
“Both.” He exhales slowly. Controlled. “When Elena speaks, she uses her hands the way Lyria did. Small gestures. Precise. Lila has her particular shade of dark hair. The way it catches light.”
I wait. Don’t push. Just let him work through it.
