But she doesn’t turn.
“Tell me what you’re not saying.”
Her voice is steady, but I feel the weight beneath it, the demand wrapped in frustration.
I hesitate, though I shouldn’t.
I’ve carried this story for centuries, repeated it so many times it should slip from my lips as easily as breath.
And yet, something about telling her feels… different. Heavier.
More than truth. More than memory.
Still, I keep my voice controlled.
She doesn’t need my emotions.
She needs clarity.
“It wasn’t just about power,” I say finally.
“It was about balance.”
Kaia glances at me, eyes sharp, searching for something in my expression. I make sure she doesn’t find it.
I clasp my hands behind my back, keeping my posture stiff. “We didn’t understand it at first. We didn’t think it mattered.”
She turns fully now, arms crossing over her chest. “You say that like it’s just history. Like it doesn’t mean anything to you.”
I hold her gaze, unflinching. “It is history.”
She lets out a quiet laugh, but there’s no humor in it. “No, it’s not. Not to you.”
She’s perceptive. Too perceptive.
I push forward before she can pry at my armor.
“You were never supposed to be alone,” I tell her. “The Valkyries were a balance to this world, not just warriors, not just ferriers of the dead. You weren’t meant to fade.” I pause, inhaling deeply. “And yet, you did.”
Kaia’s shadows pulse faintly, curling closer to her body. She doesn’t speak.
So I continue.
“When the war came, the realms were divided,” I say, my words careful, measured. “Absentia had already begun to collapse from the inside. Your people were fighting, but they were outnumbered. We—” My throat tightens. I force myself to keep my tone even. “We tried to help.”
Kaia tilts her head slightly, and I brace for the inevitable.
“You failed.”
The words shouldn’t sting. I’ve told myself this story so many times, relived it more times than I can count. But hearing it from her lips? From the one I couldn’t save?
I swallow hard. “Yes.”
I don’t tell her how many times I searched for her, only to find more of her people dead. I don’t tell her about the nightmares, the battles, the screams that still echo in my head. I don’t tell her that even then, I felt something—the bond, the ache of what was lost—even though I didn’t understand it at the time.
Instead, I give her the facts.
“The realms surrounding Absentia saw what happened. They saw an entire people eradicated. And they made a vow—never again.”
