Seren’s hands twist in the fabric of her tunic, her knuckles white. She doesn’t speak at first—just watches me with a kind of wounded understanding, like she’s sorting through every moment we’ve shared, every lie I didn’t tell but also never corrected.
Her voice, when it comes, is quiet but steady. “I always knew there was something more. But I thought... I thought if you ever needed to tell me, you would.”
She doesn’t say it to accuse, but the hurt is there, tucked beneath the calm, soft as snowfall, but no less cold.
“Then what?” Revryn demands, his voice rising. “Do you think we would’ve turned you in? Do you think we’d abandon you?” He shakes his head like he’s hurt.
In my darkest moments, yes. I was afraid they’d turn me over.
“I don’t know!” The words explode from me, raw and desperate. “I don’t know what you would’ve done! I just... I couldn’t risk it. I couldn’t lose you.”
“When they cast me out,” Revryn says, his voice lower than I’ve ever heard it, “I didn’t stop loving my wife just because she was Starborn and I was Earthbound.” He closes his eyes, dredging up memories he’s tried to bury. “Our differences can’t stop love. It’s not about the sky you were born under, it’s about who you are in there,” he taps my chest gently, eyes welling with tears.
Revryn was loyal to the crown until the day it betrayed everything he loved. His wife was a victim of the unchecked aggression and debauched culture of the Royal Guard, and made the choice to send her own soul back to the Stars. Even before that, their daughter had already been conscripted—born under The Widow’s Crown constellation and claimed by the crown as a Venomshade. Venomshades are rare. Alchemists trained to blend poison and starlight—infusing blades, potions, darts, and even breath with death.
“They’ve taken everything I’ve ever loved,” he says, his voice a rasp. “Until the three of you.” I choke out a sob. “I won’t lose another child.”
The room is heavy with unspoken words, with the weight of twenty summers of lies. Raw emotion crackles through the loft.
Ronyn is the first to speak. “You’re an idiot, you know that?”
I blink, startled by the levity in his voice.
“You think this changes anything?” He steps closer, his familiar grin creeping back on to his face. “You’re still you, Isk. Or Elyssara, or whatever name you want to go by. You’re still the same girl who saved my ass in an alley and made me share my apples.”
“Ronyn...”
“No, seriously. You’re still my favorite pain in the ass. And honestly? If you’ve got some kind of prophecy hanging over your head, that just makes you more interesting.”
The tension in my chest loosens, just a fraction.
“He’s right,” Seren says softly. “This doesn’t change who you are. It just... explains a lot.” She steps closer, her fingers brushing my sleeve. “Next time you’re carrying something that heavy...” And I wonder, briefly, what weight she might be carrying too. She lifts her eyes to mine, steady and luminous. “Let me help.”
Revryn doesn’t speak at first, his sharp gaze fixed on me. Finally, he exhales, running a hand through his hair. “You’re going to have to tell us everything. No more secrets. No more half-truths. Do you understand?”
I nod, my throat tight. “I understand.”
For the first time, I feel the weight of my truth lift, even as the light of my destiny shines brighter.
Revryn steps forward without a word, his arms wrapping around me in an embrace so solid it feels like a shield. I collapse into him, sobbing into his chest as the weight I’ve carried finally spills out.
“You’re safe, darlin’,” he murmurs, his voice steady and soft. “You’ve always been safe with us.”
I feel another presence at my back—Seren, her gentle hands gripping my shoulders. “You’re still you, Isk,” she whispers. “This doesn’t change that.”
Ronyn presses a kiss to the back of my head. “Still gonna need some clarification, though. Like, on a scale of one to Starsforsaken, how doomed are we now?”
A laugh bubbles up through my tears, shaky but real.
Revryn pulls back just enough to look me in the eye, his hand firm on my shoulder. “You never had to do this alone,” he says. “You’re my daughter—not by blood, but by choice. And nothing, not a prophecy, not a kingdom, nothing, will ever change that.”
The dam breaks completely, and I sob into his chest again, my tears soaking into his shirt.
Ronyn clears his throat. “Okay, this is very touching, but can we talk logistics? Are we overthrowing the King now?”
Seren swats him lightly on the arm. “Let her breathe, Ronyn.”
Revryn chuckles, his gruff voice breaking the tension. “Let’s start with food. No one tells a good story on an empty stomach.”
