He stared at his hand. It was shaking. Just enough to notice. Too much information had hit him at once. Not the part about not being a demigod—that wasn't what got to him. It was the part where his father knew… and still chose to die. He knew the consequences of breaking the vow. Knew exactly what it would cost.
And still, he chose to do it anyway.
That truth sank deeper than anything else.
It wasn't confusion that filled him. It was guilt. Cold. Quiet. Creeping up his spine like a shadow that wouldn't let go.
Because no matter how many times he tried to push it down, the thought kept crawling back. Stronger. Aggressive.
Maybe his father would still be alive if he had died back then.
Just then, he felt a warm touch on top of his chest. It was warm, comforting, and safe. Something inside him stilled, like everything had started to begin to clear up.
He stared at his hand again. "What are you doing?"
