The words seem to strike him. The realization reaches him. For centuries he has solved every problem the same way. Destroy the threat. Remove the danger. Burn the source of suffering until nothing remains.
But this time the source of suffering is not an enemy he can incinerate.
It is a lifetime of fear I carried long before he ever stepped into the village square. His gaze lowers briefly toward the ash-covered ground between us.
“You deserved a life free of this,” he says quietly.
“I still do,” I reply.
His eyes lift again, searching my face as though trying to understand how that statement could possibly remain true after everything that has happened.
“And that life doesn’t begin with you destroying yourself for my sake.”
Behind us the murmuring voices suddenly grow louder. I turn slowly toward the villagers gathered near the chapel ruins.
More of them have arrived now. Some carry tools. Others carry weapons pulled from whatever homes survived the fire long enough for them to retrieve them. Axes. Pitchforks. A rusted sword I recognize from the old council hall.
Fear radiates from them like heat from the ashes, and fear I know way too well. Ravik Keld steps forward from the group. His clothes are still blackened with soot, and his eyes burn with something far sharper than fear.
“You hear her?” he shouts to the others. “She admits it!”
The crowd shifts restlessly behind him.
“You burned this village!” he continues, pointing toward me with a shaking hand. “You and that demon!”
His gaze flicks toward Threxian kneeling in the ash before me.
“You brought a curse into our homes.”
The word lands heavily in the ruined square.
Curse.
For a moment the old fear threatens to stir inside my chest again. But I concentrate and breathe. The link answers the steady rhythm instead of panic.
“No,” I say quietly.
My voice carries farther than I expect.
“I brought my fear.”
Ravik’s expression twists with fury.
“And look what it did!”
“Yes,” I reply softly.
The admission sends another wave of angry murmurs through the crowd.
“I will carry that responsibility for the rest of my life.”
The square falls silent again.
“But I will not pretend the demon standing beside me created something that did not already exist.”
Several of the villagers grip their weapons tighter.
“You’re defending him?” someone shouts.
