Her voice trembled with rage. “You just didn’t care enough to save me.”
That was when our father’s mask cracked.
“I fought myself every day to stay away from you!” he roared, louder than I’d ever heard him. “But you and your sister are part of something bigger than this family. I had to do what was best for the safety of our world! I had to keep you two apart before Tyria got their hands on you!”
Scarlet’s fists clenched at her sides. “I was already in Tyria’s hands! You chose the easy way out,” she spat. “You chose everyone else over me. Your daughter.”
And for the first time in my life, I watched my father break.
His shoulders sagged, the weight of everything finally pulling him down. His mouth parted, words stumbling, as if he couldn’t get them out fast enough. He reached a tentative hand toward Scarlet, as if to pull her into his arms.
“You don’t understand,” his voice cracked. “I can barely live with myself, knowing what you were left to endure. It broke me to leave you there.”
Suddenly, themarekemexploded.
A surge of raw emotion crashed over me like a tidal wave. My knees buckled, but Rhodes caught me, steadying me with firm hands as I sagged against him.
My chest burned; breathing became a desperate struggle.
Then the visions flooded in—flashes of Scarlet’s memories. The cold. The hunger. The crushing loneliness. The silence. The moment she slashed her own skin with that rusty nail. But it wasn’t physical pain. It ran deeper, rooted somewhere unreachable—a sorrow beating like a second heartbeat in her chest, slow and aching.
It wasn’t just pain.
It was heartbreak.
It was the moment she gave up.
My hands flew to my temples, desperate to hold it all back. Too much. Too fast. Too raw.
When I finally cracked my eyes open, Scarlet had stepped back, her face unreadable.
“It broke you?” Her voice was raspy, eyes glassing over—not with sadness, but something darker, more volatile. She held the silence a beat too long. The room seemed suspended between heartbeats. Arrow’s swallow sounded loud in the stillness. I could almost hear the thunder of his heart.
“Broke,” she repeated, flat and sharp. “You.”
“Yes, my daughter,” he said quietly. “You were one of the few things in this world to break me.”
Raindrops began to patter on the ceiling. Soft at first, then faster, heavier. My water element stirred in response, but it wasn’t mine. It was being drawn through me, channeled without thought.
Scarlet was doing it again—pulling at my water, just like the time she collapsed at the sight of Delaney Salvitto’s lifeless body.
“I may have broken you,” she said with eerie calm, “but you don’t get to hurt.” A tremor rippled through her limbs. “You don’t get to hurt—because you broke me first.”
The sky gave way, and rain crashed down like grief.
No one moved or spoke. We stood frozen in the storm, watching father and daughter face the ruins of their past. Rhodes’s hand found my shoulder in a silent question. I nodded. He stepped forward to stand just behind Scarlet.
My heart ached to join them—to stand at her other side, three against one—but my feet remained rooted, legs locked.
“I will not risk the lives of my friends,” Scarlet said, voice cutting sharp as flint. “But if you send Fallon to Tyria alone, I will show you—through every element—exactly how I’ve felt my entire life because of you.” She took a deliberate step forward, her voice dropping to a low, dangerous growl. “Send at least one other soldier with her… or I will tear you, and anyone who stands in my way, to shreds.”
Arrow said nothing. The rain outside softened, as if holding its breath for his answer.
“I’ll go with her,” came a sudden voice from the doorway.
All eyes snapped to Shayde Wylder, shirtless and soot-streaked, freshly pulled from the forge. His breeches were smeared with ash, rainwater dripping from dark waves clinging to his forehead. The obsidian collar gleamed stark against his skin.
Rhodes moved forward, voice tense. “Shayde? No.”
