Dyna moved to sit beside him. “She left you behind, didn’t she?”
The matter of his existence was the only proof his mother was ever real. And yet, sometimes, she didn’t seem to be. He knew nothing of her family, of her past, or where she came from. As if she had been the fairy tale from a book and slipped into the pages of a world he couldn’t reach. He had nothing left of her but fragmented memories, a sapphire ring, and a broken promise.
“Yes,” he agreed. “She left me behind.”
She abandoned him for an impossible dream that had surely cost her life. He was left to continue hiding from the scorn of his bothers and scrouge for scraps when the servants forgot to bring him meals.
“But your father…”
Cassiel scoffed. “I was a walking reminder of what he lost. He couldn’t stand the sight of me, so I was sent to live Hermon Ridge.”
If it wasn’t for his uncle, he may not have survived much longer on his own.
Dyna’s expression saddened and she laid a hand on his arm. Cassiel stiffened, instinctively wanting to pull away from any form of affection or comfort, but receiving it from her left him weightless. The bond hummed between them, carrying away his strain like a stream. If she wasn’t touching him, he thought he would drift too far away from his reality—one he couldn’t ever let himself forget.
“Perhaps I fooled myself,” he said, shifting slightly away. “My mother may have left under the guise of travel to spare me. Her life was a miserable one. She must have wanted to forget the revile of Hilos, and the creature she’d given birth to.”
“That’s Prince Malakel speaking on your tongue.”
The sternness in her glare and the statement stunned him for a moment. “That does not diminish the truth. I’m a half-breed, Dyna.”
Queen Mirah never let him forget it.The crown on your head is a pretense. You will never compare to my children. They are purebloods. Heirs to the Realms. You are nothing.
So simple a thing to exist and yet not. To breathe, and walk, and see, and feel, with no purpose, no path or place. Aimlessly wandering and fitting nowhere, for he was an abomination againstElyon’snatural creation. To be a Nephilim meant to be a mistake. A nothing.
“No, that’s not true.” Dyna shook her head, and he realized he must have said that aloud. “For you to be, you had to come from something.”
“And what would that be, as you see it?”
“The union of your mother and father.”
He smirked. “Well, clearly.”
Dyna smiled and swatted his arm. “I’m not referring to that, though it’s certainly part of it. For you to be, your father and mother had to exist. There’s a story in their meeting, and they created your story from a single page of theirs. You came from their love, and it’s written right here, waiting to be read.” She placed a hand over his heart, where his pulse spiked under her fingertips.
He lowered her hand, holding on a second longer before letting go. “Are you not listening? Nephilim are an error of nature. Creatures incapable of normal sentiments like compassion and empathy.”
“You saved me several times. What was that if not compassion and empathy?”
Did she always have an answer to his every verity? Whether Dyna was wrong or right, in time, he would be gone and forgotten. No mention of him would ever be written in Celestial history. At the end of it all, it didn’t matter. Though he couldn’t help but wish for her to be the one witness of his existence.
Her expression tightened, as if speaking about the state of his being hurt her. “Sometimes the world is cruel,” she said. “It can be lonely, and dark, and convince you that you’re worthless. The reality is, it takes courage to find worth within yourself. Each life is valuable, each given a purpose, regardless of whether you believe it or not. I know your worth, Cassiel. So should you.”
He sighed, giving up on arguing over the matter.
“It is enough if you believe that for the both of us,” he murmured. “It is enough.”
Dyna laid her head on his shoulder, and a single, beautiful tear trailed down her cheek in a stream of starlight.
“Why do you cry?” he asked, genuinely surprised.
Her sadness flooded through him. “You must have felt so alone.”
More tears fell like glass pearls, little treasures of lament on his behalf. Tears that could no longer be extracted from his own well that had long gone dry. He hadn’t wept since he was a child, and he would never do so again.
“Do not cry, stupid human. Not for me.” Cassiel gently wiped beneath her lashes, gathering each droplet on his fingers, wishing to preserve them somehow. Like rare relics, he could bring out later to remind himself that someone had cared enough to shed them for him. “I have long become used to having nothing.”
Dyna took his hand. “You have me.”
