I swallow, nodding. “I trust Lyra.”
His gaze lifts to me—quiet, direct. “Then we tell them.”
My brows knit together. “But why now?”
“Because they are part of it now. Here, in this chamber. Whatever we might discover in these texts. They deserve to know all of the pieces at play. They deserve to know the truth of what’s in my blood. I’ve spent years hiding this part of myself—even from them. But if this chamber is what I think it is . . . hiding it now would be a choice. A lie.”
I glance back toward the others.
They’re still gathered around the books, speaking in low tones, sifting through the records. Garrick gestures to a map, brow furrowed. Rian flips through another book, lips pressed into a thin line. Lyra is still pale but focused, her usual sharp edges dulled but not gone. Garrick stays close, his eyes flicking to her every few moments like he’s still making sure she’s here, breathing. Valen is quiet, turning to another page of Sylas’ journal.
There’s too much here, too much to process, too much left unspoken.
And we don’t have time to waste.
Thane’s hand tightens around mine before he moves. Like he needs to feel something real before he steps forward to do what he can’t take back. His palm is warm, strong, but beneath it, I can feel the tension in his grip—the weight pressing down on him.
This isn’t just a conversation. It’s a reckoning.
Yesterday, he told only Valen and me. For the first time inhis life, he let someone outside his family know who he truly is. And now he’s about to do it again. To Garrick, Jarek, Rian—his brothers in everything but blood. To Lyra, who I trust more than anyone. To the people who have stood beside him, fought beside him, bled beside him. To the people who, after today, may never see him the same way again.
He knows the weight of this. We step toward the others.
Thane doesn’t let go of my hand. Not when we stop at the edge of the group. Not when he lifts his chin and speaks the words that will change everything.
“I need to tell you something.”
The conversation around us dies instantly. Books are lowered. Maps forgotten. One by one, they turn to face him.
Jarek. Garrick. Rian. His brothers, in every way that matters. Lyra, standing beside Garrick, still pale, but alert. Valen, his fingers resting against the edge of Sylas Veyne’s journal.
Thane’s grip around mine tightens, just slightly. He looks at Valen. A brief moment. A silent exchange. A flicker of understanding. A choice already made.
Valen gives a single nod.
I don’t watch Thane as he speaks. I watch them.
The glow wavers. Shadows slip across their faces, shifting with the movement of the air, making them look almost unreal—carved from shadow and flame, caught between past and present.
Lyra is the most expressive. Her brows knit together, her lips parting slightly as if to interrupt, but she doesn’t. She listens. I can see her fighting between shock and understanding, between disbelief and loyalty. Her fingers curl into the fabric of her tunic, gripping tight, like she’s trying to anchor herself in something real.
Rian is silent. Steady. Taking it all in. His jaw is tense, his arms crossed, but he doesn’t speak. Doesn’t react immediately.He’s a soldier. A strategist. He waits until he has all the information before he moves.
Jarek is grim. His usual confidence muted. He drags a hand over his jaw. I can tell he’s already thinking ahead. Not just about what this means, but about the weight of it, the danger.
Garrick, who always has a joke. Always has something easy to say, something sharp to deflect the moment. He says nothing. His face is unreadable, his usual smirk long gone. He stares at Thane, eyes flicking briefly to me, then back again, like he’s waiting for the punchline to some joke that isn’t coming.
The firelight flickers, the glow shifting, making their expressions seem to change with every second.
What he’s said—they can’t unhear. And I don’t know yet if that will make them stand closer or step away.
No one speaks. The moment holds.
Then, finally—Lyra is the first to speak. She exhales sharply, running a hand through her copper hair, her blue eyes wide with something between shock and fierce protectiveness.
“You’re telling me that you’ve been walking around with the biggest secret in the world like it’s just another godsdamned burden on your back?” Her voice cuts. Not angry. Just stunned.
She lets out a short, humorless laugh. “Holy hell, Thane.” She glances at me, and there’s something unspoken in her gaze.
