Kaia's face crumples slightly, and she reaches for my hand. "Finn, I never meant—"
I step back before she can touch me. Not cruel, not angry, just done. Done pretending that casual contact will fix what's broken between us. Done settling for scraps when I used to be a full meal.
"You don't need to say anything," I tell her, gentler now. "Just... see me, Kaia. Just once. Before whatever's waiting at the end of this kills one of us."
Her shadows writhe like they want to reach for me but don't know how. Carl flickers toward and starts to fade before Bob snaps him back into formation. Even her magic doesn't know what to do with the space I'm creating.
I turn to go, but something makes me pause. Look back one more time at the girl who used to light up when I walked into a room.
"For what it's worth, Trouble," I say, my voice carrying across the distance I've put between us, "I'd still burn the world for you. But I don't know if I belong in it anymore."
Then I walk away, leaving her sitting alone with her guilt and her shadows and the ration she won't eat.
The fire dies to nothing behind me, and for the first time in months, I don't try to rekindle it.
Chapter 47
Kaia
I wake from dreams that taste like blame.
Finn's words echo in the gray space between sleep and consciousness, each one cutting deeper than the last.The biggest gap? That's me. And I'm still right fucking here.My chest aches with the truth of it, with the realization that I've been so focused on holding myself together that I've let pieces of what matters most slip through my fingers.
I rise before dawn breaks, moving quietly through camp to avoid the others. My shadows give me space—unnervingly so. Even Bob maintains his distance, his usual protective hovering replaced by something that feels like cautious observation. Patricia doesn’t even pretend to take notes. Mouse, normally draped across my shoulders like a second heartbeat, lingers near my feet instead, his small form twitching with unease. Like they're all waiting to see which version of me emerges from whatever reckoning is coming.
I throw myself into action instead of reflection. Check weapon supplies. Scan the terrain ahead through Kieran's spyglass. Adjust our defensive formation for the third time this morning. Anything to keep my handsbusy and my mind from spiraling back to the way Finn looked when he walked away from me.
The way he called me Trouble one last time, like he was saying goodbye.
"You're going to wear a path in that rock if you keep pacing."
Kieran's voice cuts through my spiral. I turn to find him approaching with his usual measured steps, but there's something different in his expression. Not the careful distance he's maintained since the bonds formed, but something that looks almost like... partnership.
"The terrain ahead narrows," he says without preamble, settling beside me on the ridge. "Three choke points in the next five miles. Perfect for ambush."
I study the landscape below us, noting the way the path funnels between rocky outcroppings. "We can handle it."
"Can we?" His golden eyes meet mine, steady and unreadable. "You're doing everything alone, Kaia. Planning, watching, carrying the weight of every decision. That's not leadership—that's martyrdom."
My jaw tightens. "I'm fine."
"You're managing." The correction is gentle but firm. "There's a difference."
The word hits me wrong, making something crack inside my chest. "Manageable," I repeat, and my voice breaks on the syllable like glass under pressure.
Kieran doesn't flinch at the sound. Just continues to watch me with those ancient eyes that see too much. "You're leading like you're trying to prove you should be followed. But no one here is questioning that except you."
The observation stops me cold. I open my mouth to argue, to deflect, to do any of the things I've perfected over months of keeping him at arm's length. Instead, what comes out is the truth.
"If I don't lead them out of this," I whisper, staring at the twisted landscape below, "if I fail Seren too, it'll mean they were all right to doubt me from the start."
"Who?" Kieran's voice is soft, patient. "Who was right to doubt you?"
"Everyone." The word scrapes my throat raw. "The board at the academy. Lady Virath. Every person who looked at me and saw a threat instead of a student. Every voice that said I was too dangerous, too unpredictable, too unstable."
"Maybe they do doubt you," Kieran says quietly. "Maybe they’re afraid of what you could become. But fear and doubt aren’t the same thing, and neither means you’ve failed. They don’t know the weight you carry. I do. And I’d follow you anyway."
For the first time in days, I take a real breath. The kind that reaches all the way down to the places I've been holding too tight. My shadows respond to the shift, drifting closer with tentative relief.
