His jaw tightened, grief and relief colliding hard enough to hurt. “Alive doesn’t mean safe.” His hands flexed at his sides, like he was holding himself still by force alone. “But now I know. Now Iknow.” A rough exhale. “And that changes everything.”
“Why?” I asked, not letting him retreat. My hands stayed on his chest, feeling the frantic, undeniable proof of him beneath my palms. “You’ve been so resistant to me, Ryzen. Every time we get close, you pull away. You keep your distance like I’m something dangerous. Like I’mrepulsive.” I steadied my voice. “So why aren’t you pulling away now?”
“Because you found him,” he said immediately. Then, quieter, urgent. “And because we can never do that again.”
The words landed sharp.
He leaned in, forehead nearly touching mine, voice dropping as if the walls themselves might be listening. “The other Verya would notice. They’d feel the disturbance. They’dinterceptnext time.” His gaze locked onto mine, fierce with fear I hadn’t seen before. “They’d traceyou. Your signature. Every bond you carry. Every mind you’re connected to.”
My stomach clenched.
“They wouldn’t just come for you,” he continued. “They’d follow the trail straight to everyone you love. Your mates. Your clan. Your children.” His breath hitched. “Xenak pushed you out because he understood that. He savedyou.”
I closed my eyes for a heartbeat, the weight of it pressing down hard.
“But we can’t stop… I need to be stronger in order for me to succeed,” I said. “We just won’t reach again.”
“Yes.” His hands came up then, not to claim, not to pull me closer—but to hold my arms, grounding us both. “We wait. We plan. We move when we can do itright.” A pause. “Knowing he’s alive is enough—for now. It has to be.”
I opened my eyes and met his gaze.
“We won’t abandon him,” I said quietly.
“I know,” he replied, just as soft. “That’s why this terrifies me.”
The truth hung between us—raw, undeniable. We’d found Xenak. And in doing so, we’d painted a target neither of us could afford to reveal again.
“But why are you afraid of me?” I demanded.
Sighing, he shook his head. “You make me feel things I don’t know how to feel.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“Because I’m afraid of you.” The words ripped out of him like they hurt. His jaw tightened, his daggers trembling in their orbit around us and then fell, clashing to the ground. “Your power. Your potential. What you’re going to become.”
I stared at him.
“I’ve seen strong minds before,” he continued, each word dragged from somewhere deep. “But you… you’re different. You’re not just strong—you’regrowing.Every day, every challenge, every connection you form. You’re becoming something I don’t have words for. Something that could either save us all or—” He cut himself off.
“Or what?”
“Or burn too bright.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “The way ‘Beacons’ always do.”
The fear in him wasn’t small. It was bone-deep—built from watching too many powerful minds flame out, from losing people he cared about, from the constant, grinding certainty that everyone he let close would eventually be taken away.
His brother. His people. And now—if he let himself care—me.
I cupped his face the way he’d cupped mine. Made him meet my eyes.
“I will become what I need to become.” The words came from somewhere deeper than thought—from the place where my bonds lived, where my determination had been forged through fire and loss and the stubborn refusal to break. “As strong as I need to become. As powerful as necessary. Whatever it takes to protect the people I love.”
His breath shuddered out.
“And if that terrifies you,” I added softly, “then you’ll have to decide whether to run from it or stand beside me. Because I can’t promise to stay small. I can’t promise not to burn bright. All I can promise is that I’ll fight for everyone under my protection—including you.”
Something cracked in his expression. I’d seen it in Zirene last night too—when the strain didn’t break him, it slipped its leash. Years of pressure found a seam and bled out through it, quiet and inevitable.
“You really aren’t afraid of anything, are you?”
