A shiver colder than the room ran down my spine.
“No,” I said quietly. “I felt guilty. I wanted to disappear.”
He smirked humorlessly. “Then you know how I feel when I seeyou.”
My head swirled. I finally understood. I was a constant reminder of Viol’s past sins.
The clan. The fire. The shadow of his dark wings across the white landscape.
A thought came to me.That day’s etched in his memory too, but from a very different angle.
I realized suddenly that Viol was the only dragon brother that didn’t confront me after I attacked Aurum. Did he understand why I did it—and how much I regretted it? Maybe he figured I felt shitty enough, and had no desire to pile on.
We stood in uncomfortable silence as I processed this.
Finally, I sighed. “I’m bad at words. But I already said I don’t hate you. I don’t want to be a ghost haunting you. I just want to be Rorik.”
That struck a nerve. Viol’s gaze flitted up, met mine. Tension evaporated from his posture. The tight edges of his face softened.
I kept talking. “No matter what happened in the past, I’m part ofthisfamily now. So, please don’t avoid me. I want my kids to know their Uncle Viol.”
His eyes flashed in surprise, gleaming with moisture. He quickly blinked it away and stared down at his black leather boots.
“You mean that?” he asked in a quiet rasp.
“I wouldn’t say it unless I did.” I smiled. “How about we start over?”
Viol didn’t smile back—instead he held back a grimace, like he didn’t deserve my offer—but he chuckled and nodded stiffly. “Yeah. Sure. Let’s start with this shitty fucking cellar. Wait here.”
Viol trudged off just as Mylo returned. The omega readjusted his glasses and asked, “Was that Viol?”
“Yeah.”
Mylo grinned warmly. “He’s so funny, isn’t he?”
Funny was not the term I’d use to describe the mysterious alpha, but I understood where Mylo was coming from.
“He’s interesting,” I conceded. “What’s that you’re carrying?”
“Blankets and pillows! Lots of ‘em—whoa!”
Since they were stacked so high he couldn’t see, Mylo lost his footing. I leapt and caught him before he tripped down the stairs.
“Oof, thanks,” he said as I led him to solid ground. “Here. We can build a fort with these.”
My brow furrowed at the pillows and blankets. If Mylohadfallen, I would’ve assumed he had a concussion.
“You can’t build a fort with these,” I said. “You need bricks, or packed snow, or wood.”
Mylo laughed. “You’re funny, too, Rorik. This is a blanket fort, obviously! It’s cozier than a real battle fort. Or whatever you do with forts. I’ve only built them in video games. Actually, there’s this popular game about building forts, but most people play on the non-build mode, which kinda defeats the purpose of—oh geez, sorry, I’m rambling. Let’s stack the pillows.”
Mylo dropped to his knees and stacked the pillows. I followed his lead and did the same. It didn’t take long to understand the appeal. They were soft, squishy, and fun to handle. I quickly acknowledged Mylo’s vision. Soon there was a basic structure on which to hang the blankets.
“You’re tall, so you throw it on top,” Mylo suggested, handing me the longest blanket.
I tossed it across the two separate pillow stacks, bridging the gap between them. I couldn’t help but smile at my handiwork.
“This is fun,” I said, a bit shyly.
