I blink hard, a strange heat stinging my eyes. Awe, followed by a kind of ache. I slowly, quietly drop to my knees. Like anything louder might break the moment.
Their words replay in my mind, softer now, like river stones worn smooth:
You are not alone in your grief.The path of light does not bloom without cost. Sacrifice is its seed.
Tears slip down my cheeks because I feel seen—truly seen—by something older than time.
“Amara?”
For the second time that morning, I jolt—yelping—and scramble to my feet. I whirl around, heart still racing, and find Thane standing just a few feet away. Concern shadows his expression.
Of course it’s Thane.
How is it always him? Always the one who sees me like this—cracked open, caught in the softness I’ve been working so hardto bury.
I swipe at my cheeks with the back of my hand, quick and clumsy, as if I can erase the evidence, then force a smile. It barely settles on my face.
“I’m fine,” I say, because it’s easier than the truth.
And the moment the words leave my mouth, I realize—he didn’t ask how I was.
Great.
“Sorry I scared you . . . I saw you out here. It’s early.” He pauses, scanning my face. “Are you okay?”
I nod too fast, like that alone could convince him. But it only makes it obvious that I’m absolutely not okay.
My throat tightens. My pulse won’t settle.
The Elemental Gods just spoke to me. Not in symbols or dreams, but actual voices.
How could I possibly be okay?
But I hold the nod. Let the silence do the lying for me because saying it out loud would make it real.
I clasp my hands behind my back, hiding the tremble in my fingers, trying to stitch myself back together. Trying to reconcile the impossible—that the Elemental Gods justspoketo me—with the very human fact that I’m now standing in front of Thane. A person. Flesh and breath and wary eyes.
“Yes, yes,” I say quickly, the words too clipped, the smile too practiced. “I am. Really.” I force a shrug, as if that will sell it. “Just taking a walk in the quiet of early morning.”
Then, desperate to change the subject, I redirect—my voice a little too bright.
“What are you doing up this early?”
He smiles. Not the usual half-tilt or guarded smirk I’ve seen during training, but something real and warm.
And for a moment, I’m taken by it. That warmth is rare—precious, even—in the weeks I’ve been here. Like sunlightbreaking through overcast skies.
“I’m always up before everyone,” he says softly. “It’s the only time of day I can get some peace.”
THANE
She doesn’t fool me.
The too-quick smile. The too-bright voice. The way she clasps her hands behind her back like she’s holding something in.
I don’t press. Instead, I offer a smile.
Something flickers across her face when she sees it—surprise, maybe. She has clearly noticed that I don’t smile like that often.
