That’swhat she thinks? That I don’t want her?
Her.
Our missing piece, our strength, more than our equal in every way.I’ll never compare to her. I’ll always remain inferior peering up at the light she may bestow.
She thinks I don’t wanther?
She shakes herself, frowning when I stay silent. Then her gaze locks on mine, and it’s like being seared by the sun. “I never thought someone so dangerous could be such a coward.”
That final word becomes a dagger that slices my chest, and with the pain, the room tilts into grey.
My fraying restraint shatters.
My hands press to the table on either side of her, caging her in as I lean closer—finally surrendering to her warmth, to the pull I’ve fought against for so long.
I feel like Icarus, daring the sun to burn me alive for being so bold.
“I am a coward,” I say hoarsely, my darkness echoing the words. “You were right when you said it the first time, in Ezekial’s office, and you’re right now.” She swallows, eyes darting over my face. “Because you terrify me.”
“Why?” she whispers.
I glance to the side, at the shadows, away from her warmth. It’s safer there, in the cold abyss I’ve always known.
“I am hundreds of years old. I have committed countless atrocities. When people recount the myth of the Dark Gods’ arrival to this realm, I am the villain in that tale; the monster in their nightmares. I will never be redeemed. I bring destruction everywhere I step because all I’ve ever sought is revenge.” The words taste bitter, but absolute.
They define me, they always have. Always will.
I look back into her blinding light, to the warmth I don’t deserve yet can’t resist.
“Until you.” I pause, her lips part. “I don’t know how to accept something I don’t deserve.”
For a moment, she says nothing, the silence stretching. But she never looks away.
“You don’t know how to accept me? I don’t know how to trust you, or them. Hell, even myself.” She throws her hands up. “Everything I thought I knew is gone. The people I should’ve trusted most lied to me, used me. I doubt everything.” Her voice is edged with frustration, but beneath it, there’s something else.
Not just anger, but fear. The same fear I feel.
She exhales sharply, fingers tightening around each other in her lap.
“I know it’s easier to pull away. I tried, I wanted to, wished I could.” Her gaze lifts, meeting mine, fire burning into shadow.“But not now. Not anymore,” she says, fierce, determined. “And neither will the others. You’re the only one fighting this.”
I shake my head, not in denial but in warning. “Because I’m the only one who doesn’t deserve it. I don’t deserve—”
You.
The word lingers unspoken, yet it echoes louder than anything I’ve admitted. Now, I expect her to shrink back, to realise she’s wasted her light on something broken beyond repair.
“Kane.” I can’t help but listen when she makes my name sound like that. Like a prayer and a song, a new language, one I didn’t yet know but was desperate to learn.
“This is my choice,” she states, gaze hard. “You all said you’d give me anything. You were there and you never denied it.” She holds the silence, waits for me to say otherwise, but I won’t. “This is what I want. I choose all of you.”
She’s so much braver than I am. But then she catches herself, as if remembering who she’s speaking to.
Her gaze softens, returning to a warmer, gentler hue as she clears her throat. “As friends. I want us all to befriends.”
I stare at her, my mind still trying to catch up and accept her words.
She chose me. She’s said it again. But with the caveat of friendship, a delicate game she’s trying to play…
