A beat.
I look forward, slippers scuffing softly across the stone. “Lord Toren expects me to fight. They all do.”
Thane doesn’t answer right away. Then—“You will. But not yet.” No dismissal. Just certainty.
My eyes narrow, looking at the darkened edges of the courtyard where the torchlight doesn’t reach.
“Do you think the attacks are different?” I ask. “That something worse is coming?”
He doesn’t hesitate this time. “Yes.”
His certainty sends a slow ripple of unease through me. The Shadow Forces have always been ruthless—but scattered. Opportunistic. Not a coordinated army. Not like this.
I swallow, my arms tightening against my chest. “Are they looking for something?” A breath. “Or someone?” I stop. “Like in my village.”
He slows, then stops just ahead. Turns. The torchlight catches in his eyes, unreadable in the dim glow.
I press on. “They weren’t raiding just to raid. They were looking for me. We know that now.” My throat feels tight, but I force the words out. “What if they still are?”
Thane watches me, silent. Weighing. Then he says, “It’s possible.”
The breath I’ve been holding slowly escapes, but I’m not sure if his words make me feel better or worse.
“That means more people are getting hurt.” My voice is quieter now, but steady. “Losing what they value. Dying . . . because of me.”
“No.” His voice is steady, firm. “Because of them. Because of the Shadow Forces.”
I shake my head, my arms tightening around myself. “If they’re looking for me, if I’m the reason the attacks are growing worse—”
“Then that’s not on you.” His words cut through mine, soft but absolute. “You didn’t ask for this, Amara.” His eyes hold mine, unwavering. “But you can decide what to do with it.”
The wind shifts, carrying faint sounds from the courtyard behind us.
The weight of everything I’ve been holding presses hard against my ribs, but I keep my chin lifted. I shake my head, frustration tightening in my chest.
“Then I should fight. Now.” I pull my arms tighter around me. “Why wait? More people will get hurt.”
Thane exhales—slow. Measured. “Because you’re not ready.”
I bristle. “That didn’t stop them from coming for me before.”
His gaze sharpens. “And if you had fought then, would you have survived?”
I lift my chin. “I did fight. And I survived.”
Thane doesn’t blink. “That’s not the same thing, and you know it.” His voice is quiet, but firm. “Yes, your power erupted. Yes, you destroyed the Fellborn who attacked your village. But that wasn’t fighting.”
He takes a step closer, his words measured.
“That was survival. That was instinct. Luck.”
The wind shifts, rustling the banners along the stone walls. My pulse hammers against my ribs, but I steady my breath.
“You’re strong, Amara.” Thane holds my gaze. “But strength isn’t enough.”
“I don’t want to wait while more people die.” The words taste bitter—sharp with guilt.
Thane is silent for a long moment. Then—“Neither do I.”
