He nods once. “Yes.”
I swallow thickly, heart thudding. “So, if it wasn’t you… if it wasn’t Aelith… then who has that kind of strength? Who could’ve opened two rifts at once? Who could’ve pulled from across the world—and through the centre of the Earth?”
Kael’s expression darkens, shadows gathering in the hollow of his gaze. “That,” he says, “is the question I fear the answer to most.”
He doesn’t say anything more. His silence is telling. Not thoughtful.Careful.
I shift closer on the bed, knees drawn up, watching the tension return to his shoulders. Not panic this time. Not guilt. Something else.
Fear.
“You know something,” I say quietly. “Don’t you?”
His luminous eyes flick to mine—uneasy, calculating. “I know… stories,” he says finally. “Old ones. Not in the records. Not shared anymore. But I remember them from when I was a child. Before the prince. Before I became part of the guard.”
“Stories?” I repeat, my voice sharper than I mean it to be. “Kael, we’re talking about rift theory turning into real possibility, and you’ve got stories in your back pocket?”
“They were forbidden,” he says tightly. “Tales whispered by my father, who had them whispered to him by his father. Meant to frighten us. Or humble us.”
I blink at him. “Okay, you’re gonna need to be more specific before I combust again and turn the walls to Jell-O.”
His lips twitch—but he doesn’t smile.
“There was once a Glowranth,” he says, voice low, as though the walls themselves might be listening. “A royal heir. Long before the reign of Queen Serresta. Before the queendom unified the outer dominions. His name was erased from our histories. But in whispers, they called him the Shardwalker.”
I straighten, heart thumping. “That sounds… not terrifying at all.”
Kael ignores me. “He was the most powerful of our kind. Fated to one not from our world but another. He found a way to bring his mate here. When they bonded, it is said the rift between their dimensions… broke. Permanently. Reality bent for them. Rules—changed. And they didn’t use that power wisely.”
I inhale slowly. “Let me guess. War? Chaos? Death?”
He nods grimly. “They brought destruction. Not just to our kind but to others. They are the reason fate stepped in and prevented any more true bonds from forming for the Glowranth. Our species dwindled. Fragments of worlds collapsed. What was left of the rift—their rift—was sealed by the council of that time and buried so deep, it no longer appeared in royal records. Only the oldest bloodlines whisper the old stories.”
“And your family is one of them…. You don’t think they’re just stories made to frighten you,” I murmur.
Kael doesn’t deny it.
“I think what we’re seeing now… it may be something like that. Not the same, but similar. Someone with power—maybe even a bonded pair—has reopened that kind of wound.”
I suck in a sharp breath. “So, you’re saying you’re pretty certain there’s someone out there who can do this… and we don’t know who. Or why. Someone who could have even been herebeforeall the recent rifts started?” As far as I’m aware, the rifts have been more regular over the past few years, but they span a couple of decades at most.
“I’m saying I need to find out,” Kael says.
The weight of his words settles between us.
“You’d have to leave,” I say slowly. “To find answers.”
He nods. “Yes.”
“With everything going on—with Aelith, Dawson?—”
“I’d have to go,” he says again, firmer. “But not without you.”
My stomach flips. I don’t know if it’s fear or excitement or both. “You’d take me with you?”
“I won’t leave you,” he says, no hesitation this time. “And you’ve already proven you’re stronger than anyone gives you credit for—including yourself.”
I exhale slowly, already thinking of Varek. Of the community. Of what they’d say if I took off now.
