Mouse nuzzles my cheek, his warmth a small comfort against the growing cold in my chest.
“They used to fight for my attention,” I whisper to him, the words barely audible. “Now I think they’re fighting to forget me.”
The worst part? I can’t even blame them.
Maybe this is what I deserve for taking so long to figure out what I wanted. For being too scared to choose, too paralyzed by the fear of hurting someone to risk reaching for what I actually needed.
Now it looks like the choice has been made for me.
And I’m not part of it at all.
Chapter 38
Kieran
The golden light of dusk stretches everything into distortion.
Long shadows cling to the mountain path like fingers reaching for something they'll never grasp. The air itself feels unstable, caught between day and night, neither one thing nor another. Much like everything else lately.
I ride at the edge of our formation, close enough to maintain the illusion of leadership but far enough that I don't have to watch. Don't have to see the careful way Aspen checks on her, or the protective stance Torric maintains at her flank, or the way Malrik and Finn have somehow found their rhythm without me.
Withouther.
The bond pulses in my chest, dormant but present. A reminder of what I've lost. What I never truly had. I could reach for it—test the connection, see if she'd respond—but I don't. Reaching means vulnerability, and I've been burned enough for one lifetime.
My shadows ripple restlessly around my horse's hooves, responding to tension I can't quite control. They want to surge forward, to wrap aroundher like they used to, but I hold them back. She doesn't need my shadows. She has theirs.
She hasthem.
Walter materializes beside me, his small form bobbing gently in the space between my horse and the rocky outcropping. He doesn't speak—Walter never speaks—but his presence carries a weight of understanding that I'm not ready to accept.
"Not now," I mutter, but he persists, drifting closer until he's nearly touching my boot.
Something inside me snaps.
My shadows explode outward without warning, a violent surge of power that sends Walter tumbling through the air. He recovers quickly, ever graceful, but the hurt in his strange little form is unmistakable.
"I said not now," I growl, louder than I intended.
The others glance back, concern flickering across their faces. Kaia's violet eyes find mine, and for a moment I see something that might be worry. But then Torric says something that makes her laugh, and her attention shifts away.
Always away.
Walter hovers at a safe distance now, watching me with those inscrutable not-eyes. The reproach in his silence is worse than any words could be.
I force my shadows back under control, wrapping them tight around myself like armor. Like chains.
The memory hits without warning—her at six years old, bouncing on her toes as she asked if I could really turn into a dragon. The way she'd clapped and laughed when I shifted for her, creating shadow shapes to chase me through the air while I showed off with aerial acrobatics. Hershadow magic had danced with mine that day, perfect harmony between two powers that recognized each other.
When she hugged my scaled neck and demanded I promise to come back, I thought that moment would anchor us forever. That being the first to see her magic, to play in that meadow where wonder mattered more than fear, would mean something when she returned.
Now I watch her surrounded by others who understand her in ways I never will. Aspen, who grounds her chaos. Torric, who burns away her doubt. Malrik, who matches her shadows with his own royal darkness. Finn, who makes her laugh even in the depths of Absentia.
And me? I'm the one who forced the bonds before they were ready. The one who stole her choice. The one who stands apart, watching her heal from wounds I helped create.
She doesn't need you, I think bitterly.She's got them. All of them.
The path ahead curves around a bend, and that's when I see him.
