Serenna glanced between him and the prince, at a loss for how to manage them.
“I didn’t deliver it backhanded,” Fenn said at last, breaking the strained silence. “It was a straightforward acknowledgment of your skill.”
Vesryn’s eyes flicked to Fenn, but he offered no further reaction, his attention lingering on the last threads of mending. With a controlled breath, he extinguished his power, letting the crimson light fade. He released her carefully, his hands hovering a moment before retreating.
Fenn helped Serenna to her feet as they all rose, his fingers twining with hers.
Her attention immediately darted to the vines now coiled harmlessly around the edge of the chamber. The strange crystal embedded in the staff remained just as quiet—it seemed apparent that neither the gem nor the tree posed a threat if it didn’t perceive one.
Vesryn stared at Serenna’s hand, clasped with Fenn’s claw, pained acceptance clouding his eyes. His fingers twitched, but he didn’t reach out. Instead, he wandered to where the Heart lay discarded on the ground.
The relic flared to life as he lifted it, pooling shadows in the divot of his brow. Movements stiff, he turned back to Serenna and extended the artifact to her. “You should be its keeper.”
She shook her head. “You can be the one to give it to Lykor when he returns.”
Vesryn’s grip tightened around the Heart before he slipped it into a pocket. Steps measured and deliberate, he drifted across the chamber, gaze fixed on the staff—an intricately braided column that rose from the roots.
Serenna’s breath caught, his intent becoming as clear as the crystal perched at the peak. “I think we should leave it,” she quickly called after him.
Vesryn halted, turning just enough for her to catch the curiosity in his eyes. “It seems dormant now. I bet the tree was linked to the shard—or even controlling it—through these roots.”
His fingers drummed restlessly against his thigh before he gestured toward the gem. “Look at it—it’s the same material as the Heart, but its purpose is completely different. If it’s an Aelfyn relic too, then how the druids managed to harness it is a mystery to me. But if this shard can be used as a weapon… We can’t leave it behind.”
Fenn cocked his head as he shifted beside her, his silent interest echoing the prince’s. Vesryn’s reasoning was sound, yet doubt and a tremor of fear for what the crystal might unleash—what it hadalreadyunleashed—sent Serenna’s heart thumping in her throat.
“Just…” She hesitated, knowing there was no swaying him. “Be careful.”
Expression unreadable, the prince gave a curt nod. Without so much as a trace of emotion through the bond, he plucked the shard from the staff. In an instant, it disappeared, tucked away alongside the Heart in his leathers.
Vesryn’s hands fell to his sides, curling into fists so tight that the tendons in his forearms stood out. Slowly, his fingers unfurled, as if letting go of something heavier than air.
“I should return to the rangers,” he said, voice more rigid than the set of his stance. Without waiting for a reply, he pivoted sharply on his heel, angling toward the tunnel.
“So that’s it, Princeling?” Fenn called after him, his tone light but charged with provocation. “You’re walking away?”
Vesryn whirled around, emerald eyes blazing. “I’m well aware of when I’m not needed.”
Serenna frowned as she studied his face. What she sensed felt like a farewell. That thought sent her heart tumbling, striking every rib on its descent. She wouldn’t allow it.
“That’s not true,” she protested, taking a step closer to him.
“You’d abandon her?” Fenn added swiftly, dipping his chin toward Serenna, the rings in his ears swinging. “You would walk away the moment it gets too hard?”
Vesryn’s nostrils flared, each breath coming short before his composure shattered. “I’ve already done enough damage,” he growled, eyes pinned on Fenn. “That’s all I’m capable of.”
The bond twisted with the prince’s regret, the ache puncturing Serenna’s chest.
“I’m no leader,” he continued. “The rangers are broken. Centarya is under the king’s heel. I have no true power to enact any change.” His shoulders sagged as he glanced at the ground, toeing a root. “Lykor is right,” he said, scoffing bitterly. “I’m a prince of nothing.”
Fenn drew himself up in a way that carried an unspoken challenge. “You’d permit the past to define you instead of allowing your mistakes to refine you?” His gaze flared when Vesryn’s eyes snapped back to his. “Surely you feel like you’re meant for more than wallowing in defeat.”
Vesryn stiffened, his jaw tightening as he locked onto Fenn’s burning stare. Something sparked in his expression, kindled by the rebuke.
“We need you,” Serenna chimed in, reaching out to claim the prince’s hand, her magic surging at the contact.
Fenn didn’t relent. “Your brother needs you. And Lykor—even though he’d never admit it. He’s borne the burden of command alone for too long.”
“We have this chance to stand against the king,” Serenna said, squeezing his palm. “And we can’t do it without you.”
