God help me, I reel.
I storm the corridor. Rain lashes at the rooftop above. Cold wind floods the open airlock. I punch the wall towel-rack. Foam ribbon tears off. I shout into the hollow metal: “You owe me honesty!”
My voice thunders. Students and staff freeze behind glass.
She catches up. Quiet. Cold rain on her coat, droplets glinting. She folds arms. “Give me one minute,” she says.
I don’t wait.
“You think I won’t see it?” I snap. “You think I don’tfeelit when I watch him—Garma—walk into a room and the air shifts?”
Her eyes flutter. “He is a partof you.”
“More than that,” I breathe. “His strength—his spark. His laugh. When he kicks the ball in the yard and his eyes flash gold like that first lightning strike on Rhavadaz?—”
“He’s a child,” she interrupts quietly.
“So what? So what if he is?” I retort, voice low.
“But you can’t?—”
“Ican,” I say cold. “If you tell me the truth.”
She looks away. The street lights glint on the cobbles, rain shimmering, reflections dancing. She traces the rim of her mug. Coffee cold.
“Why are you doing this?” she asks. “Why now?”
My breath hitches. I step closer. The smell of her—tea, damp leather, conviction—fills me.
“Because I lost you once. I lost us. Imadeus lose us. But I didn’t losehim.Not yet.”
She flinches.
“I’m not trying to scare you,” I say softer. “I’m trying to include myself. In him. In you. I can guide him.”
Tears slip over her lashes. I don’t move. I wait.
She shakes her head. “I don’t know if I can.”
“Then tell me.” I urge.
She shivers. The wind roars outside, rain staccato on roof. She inhales, voice small.
“He’s… incredibly strong.”
I blink.
“He is.”
And I reach out, brush a strand of hair back from his forehead as he giggles in Aria’s lap—watching us. Seeing everything, knowing more than I like.
My chest floods with heat. Fear. Hope. Rage. Love. They swirl like storm clouds.
“I’m here,” I whisper. “Right now. I will guide him the same way my father did. His strength is not a problem, it's a power.”
She doesn’t speak. She doesn’t need to.
We stand there, soaked in rain, soaked in everything unspoken, and I finally allow myself to hope.
