“That’s depressing.”
“That’s leadership.”
We emerged onto a balcony I hadn’t noticed from below—a platform woven from branches that extended out over the entire Hollow. The view was breathtaking. The festival continued below, dots of light and color swirling in patterns that looked almost like writing from this height. The moon hung enormous overhead, tinting everything silver.
“This is my favorite place,” Kaelren said quietly. “When the responsibility gets too heavy, I come here.”
“It’s beautiful.”
“It’s dying.”
I turned to look at him. “What?”
He moved to the edge, hands gripping the railing. “This wasn’t always a hollow. When I first came here after my exile, it was corrupted. The realm’s sickness had spread so deep that nothing could grow. The rebels who’d made it their base were dying, one by one.”
“But now it’s thriving.”
“At a cost.” He turned to face me, and in the moonlight, I could see the exhaustion he’d been hiding. “I made a bargain, Elle. The corruption wanted to spread—it always wants to spread. So I gave it a path.”
I gasped, realization hitting me as I took in his pulsing black marks on his skin. “Through you.”
“Through me, yes. But more than that. I became a filter. Every dawn, I bleed shadows into the earth, feeding the barriers that protect this place. Every dusk, I pull them back into myself. The Hollow thrives because I’m… processing its poison.”
My heart clenched. “That’s killing you.”
“Everything’s killing me. The marks I carved, the corruption I channel, the bargain I made—it’s all just a matter of time.”
“How long?”
“Two weeks, maybe three. Long enough to see you through the convergence.”
“And after?”
“There is no after for me, Elle. There never was.”
“Bullshit.” The word came out sharp, angry. “You don’t get to sacrifice yourself for everyone else and call it noble.”
“It’s not noble. It’s necessary.”
“It’s both, and that’s what makes it infuriating.” I moved closer, and flowers bloomed at my feet—not the sad blue ones from earlier, but fierce red things with thorns. “You think you’re the only one who can carry darkness? The only one who can filter poison?”
“You have your own burden—”
“Then let me share yours.” I reached out, not quite touching him. “Our bond already connects us. When we touch, our powers amplify. What if we could use that? What if we could share the load?”
“It would corrupt you.”
“I’m already corrupted. Look.” I held up my arms, showing him where his darkness had started threading through my golden marks. “It’s already happening. The only question is whether we do it intentionally or let ithappen chaotically.”
He stared at the marks, and through our bond, I felt his conflict—hope warring with fear, desire fighting against protection.
“After the convergence,” he said finally. “If we survive. If we somehow break whatever cycle we’re trapped in… then we’ll try.”
“Promise?”
“I promise.”
The words hung between us, heavy with possibility. Below, the festival continued, but up here, it felt like we were the only two people in existence.
