"I swore I'd never do it again," he said, his hands clenching at his sides. "Never use my voice as a weapon. But then Thane got caught in a fisherman's net, and I—" he stopped and swallowed thickly. "I sang an entire ship to the bottom of the ocean that day. Didn't feel guilty at all."
"You saved me," Thane said softly, reaching out to touch Vale's shoulder. His golden-brown eyes were luminous with gratitude. "I was drowning in that net, and you saved me."
"I murdered seventeen men," Vale said, his voice hollow, his silver eyes haunted.
"They would have killed you," Riven said flatly, his voice like a blade. "They would have sold Thane to some collector, cut him apart for curiosity, mounted his tail on a wall. They deserved what they got."
"That's not—" Vale started, but I reached out and took his hand, cutting him off.
"You protected your family," I said, squeezing his fingers. "There's no guilt in that." He stared at me for a long moment, something shifting behind his silver eyes. Then he raised my hand to his lips and kissed my palm, lingering there like he was breathing me in.
"You make it sound simple," he murmured against my skin, his breath warm.
"It is simple," I said, looking at each of them in turn. "You protect the people you love. That's all. That's everything."
Thane made a small, wounded sound, his shoulders hunching. "I'm not—I used to be violent,too. Before. When I was young." That surprised me. Gentle Thane, who cried at the sight of injured creatures, who touched me like I was made of glass, who radiated warmth and softness...
"What happened?" I asked, turning to face him fully.
"I killed someone who didn't deserve it," he whispered, his voice cracking. His golden-brown eyes were wet, anguished. "A human. A young woman. She was just... swimming. In the shallows. I thought she was a threat, and I—" He couldn't finish.
"You were a pup," Kaelan said, his voice rough with old sorrow. His arms tightened around me. "Barely a century old. You didn't know better."
"I should have," Thane insisted, tears tracking down his face now, lost in the salt water around us. "She was just swimming. She wasn't hurting anyone. And I killed her because I was scared."
"Oh, Thane," I breathed, pulling away from Kaelan and swimming to where Thane floated, his shoulders hunched with old shame. I wrapped my arms around him, letting him bury his face in my neck. "I'm so sorry."
"I swore I'd never hurt anyone again," he mumbled against my skin, his voice muffled and wet. "Not unless they were truly evil. Not unless they deserved it. That's why I—that's why I'm?—"
"Gentle," I finished for him, stroking his hair. "That's why you're gentle. Because you chose to be."
"Because I have to be," he said, pulling back slightly. His golden-brown eyes were swimming with tears, raw and vulnerable. "If I let myself be anything else, I might?—"
"You won't," I said firmly, cupping his face in my hands. "You're not that person anymore. You haven't been for centuries."
He kissed me then—soft and desperate and grateful, tasting of salt and sorrow and hope. When he pulled away, he was still crying, but something in his expression had eased.
I turned to Kaelan, still feeling Thane pressed against my side. "What about you? What's your story?" He was quiet fora long moment, his dark eyes unreadable. Long enough that I thought he wouldn't answer.
"I've been leading them for over a thousand years," he finally said, his voice measured and careful. "Since before Riven joined us. Since before Vale found his voice. Since before Thane was even born."
"That's a long time," I said softly.
"Yes," he agreed, his dark eyes finding mine in the dim light. Something weary flickered in their depths. "It's exhausting. Being the one who makes decisions. Being the one who keeps them safe. Being the one who has to stay calm when everything is falling apart."
"Do you ever regret it?" I asked, swimming closer to him. "Being the leader?"
Something flickered across his face—old pain, old loneliness. "I used to. There were centuries when I wanted nothing more than to swim away. To let someone else carry the weight. To just... exist, without responsibility."
"What changed?" I asked, my heart aching for him.
"You," he said, the word simple and devastating. His hands found my waist, drawing me back against him. "You changed everything, Lily. For the first time in a thousand years, I don't feel tired. I feel... alive. Like there's actually a reason to keep going."
I didn't know what to say to that. How did you respond when someone told you that you'd given their centuries-long existence meaning? I just let him hold me, let him wrap his arms around me like I was the only thing keeping him anchored to the world.
"You should rest," he murmured against my hair, his chest rumbling with the beginnings of a purr. "You've been awake for too long."
"I'm not tired," I protested, even as a yawn betrayed me.
