Zephyr raised both hands in surrender. "Just saying what we're all thinking."
"Then think quieter." Daemon stood, rolling his shoulders. "We rest five minutes. Then we keep moving."
Five minutes. As if time still mattered. As if we had somewhere to go, something to do besides stumble through darkness until we starved, or the king's soldiers found us, or,
"Walk with me." Daemon's hand closed around my elbow.
I jerked away. "Don't touch me."
"I need to talk to you."
"I don't want to talk."
"I don't care." He stepped closer, voice dropping low enough that the others wouldn't hear. "You've been moving like a ghost for twelve hours. You won't eat unless forced. You won't speak.You barely looked at me when I asked if you were hurt." His eyes searched my face. "Where are you?"
Nowhere. Everywhere. Trapped in a loop of memory that wouldn't stop replaying. Lyralei's face as the arrows struck, the screams of children, fire consuming everything beautiful and good while I did nothing. Helped no one. Saved no one.
"I'm here," I said flatly. "Walking. Moving. Exactly what you wanted."
"That's not what I, "
"What do you want from me?" The words ripped free before I could stop them. "What exactly am I supposed to do right now? Smile? Pretend everything's fine? Act like I'm not responsible for, "
"You're not responsible." He cut across me, voice hard. "Aeron did this. His soldiers. His hatred. Not you."
"I led them there."
"You didn't, "
"I exist, and people die!" The shout echoed off the stone walls. Somewhere behind us, the others went silent. "That's the pattern, Daemon. That's what I am. A walking catastrophe that destroys everything good it touches."
"That's grief talking, not truth."
"Is it?" I laughed, sharp and bitter. "My father died protecting me. My mother was executed because she gave birth to me. Those who fed me suffered because they showed me kindness. And Vaelthorne, " My voice cracked. "They welcomed me. Accepted me. Danced with me under Veil-light. And I repaid them with fire and death and, "
"Stop." Daemon grabbed my shoulders. I tried to pull away, but he held firm. "You don't get to take responsibility for every evil thing that happens. You don't get to erase context and pretend you're the center of all suffering."
"I'm the reason they came!"
"My father is the reason they came!" Shadows writhed around him now, agitated and dark. "He's spent decades hunting your kind into extinction. Do you really think you're the first Veil-touched to lose people? The first to watch something beautiful burn because a tyrant feared what he couldn't control?"
"That doesn't make it hurt less."
"No. It doesn't." His grip loosened, but he didn't release me. "But it means you get to choose what comes next. Lyralei gave her life so you could survive. So you could finish what she started. Are you going to honor that, or are you going to curl up and die because living hurts?"
I shoved him. Hard.
He stumbled back a step but didn't fall.
"Don't you dare." My hands shook. "Don't you dare use her death to manipulate me into, "
"Into what? Fighting back? Choosing to live?" He moved closer again, deliberate and careful. "You told me once that if you had to be a weapon, you'd choose who deserved to burn. So choose. Decide whether you're going to let Aeron win by giving up, or whether you're going to make him regret ever learning your name."
"I can't." The admission tasted like failure. "I can't be what you need. What Lyralei thought I was. I'm not what you think I am. I'm just broken, Daemon. Whatever destiny or prophecy or soul bond connected us, it made a mistake. I'm not strong enough for this."
"You survived Blackstone Keep."
"Barely."
