Megumi didn't explain.
He didn't summon light. He didn't unfurl his wings.
He just said, "Walk with me."
Chloe hesitated.
Ava studied him for a long moment — searching, measuring — then gave a small nod. Not approval. Not surrender. Trust.
The night outside was cool and still. The valley slept quietly beneath a wide stretch of stars. No thunder. No omens. Just crickets and distant wind through trees.
Megumi walked ahead at first.
Not distant.
Just giving her space to choose to follow.
She did.
They moved along a narrow path behind the house, one Chloe had taken a thousand times growing up. It led to a cliff overlooking the forest below. She used to sit there when the stories felt too heavy. When being "the Fallen King's daughter" felt like armor she didn't ask to wear.
Megumi stopped at the edge.
For a moment, he just looked at the sky.
"You've grown," he said.
"That happens when someone misses fifteen years."
Sharp. Controlled.
He nodded slightly. Accepting the hit.
"I deserved that."
Chloe crossed her arms.
"Where were you?"
Silence.
The wind shifted.
Megumi exhaled slowly, as if considering which truth could exist safely in the air.
"I was somewhere Olympus cannot reach."
"That's not an answer."
"It's the only one you get tonight."
Her jaw tightened.
"You don't get to come back and act mysterious."
A flicker of something crossed his face — not anger.
Pain.
"I'm not trying to be mysterious," he said quietly. "I'm trying to keep you alive."
That landed harder than anything else he'd said.
Chloe's pulse quickened.
"Alive from what?"
Megumi finally turned fully toward her.
Up close, she could see it clearer now. The space behind him — subtle distortion, like gravity bending light. The Darkened Halo wasn't visible.
It was structural.
"From things that noticed you tonight."
Her stomach twisted.
"I didn't do anything."
"Yes," he said gently. "You did."
The air thickened slightly again, responding to her agitation. Pebbles near her shoes vibrated faintly. The trees below rustled without wind.
Chloe noticed this time.
Her breathing grew shallow.
"What's happening to me?"
Megumi stepped closer — not imposing, not towering — just present.
"You're awakening."
"To what?"
He held her gaze.
"To inheritance."
She shook her head.
"No. Mom said you carried the Darkened Halo. That was your burden. Your war."
"It was," he agreed.
"And?"
"And burdens change."
That wasn't enough.
Her voice rose.
"Stop talking like a prophecy book and just tell me the truth!"
The ground beneath them trembled lightly — not from him.
From her.
Megumi moved fast.
Not aggressively.
Protectively.
He placed a hand over her sternum, steadying her.
The tremor stopped instantly.
The contact sent a shock through her — not electricity, not heat — recognition. Like two frequencies syncing.
His expression shifted.
Concern.
And something else.
Pride.
"It's too early," he murmured.
"For what?" she demanded.
"For you to know what I saw."
There it was.
The fracture.
"You saw something," she whispered.
He looked past her for a moment — not distracted.
Remembering.
"When I fell," he said slowly, "I didn't die."
She held her breath.
"I crossed a threshold. Beyond Olympus. Beyond the Titans. Beyond the architecture of fate itself."
Her mind struggled to picture it.
"That doesn't make sense."
"It doesn't have to. Not yet."
Frustration burned in her chest.
"You keep saying that. Not yet. Too early. I'm not a child."
"I know."
"Then stop treating me like one."
Megumi's voice softened.
"I'm not protecting you from ignorance, Chloe."
He stepped back slightly.
"I'm protecting you from awareness."
The difference hung between them like a blade.
She stared at him.
"What happens when I become aware?"
He didn't answer immediately.
Because he wasn't calculating.
He was deciding how much truth a fifteen-year-old with a destabilizing cosmic inheritance could carry.
Finally:
"Things older than gods begin to look back."
Silence swallowed the cliff.
No thunder.
No lightning.
Just the quiet weight of stars that suddenly felt closer.
Chloe's voice dropped to barely a whisper.
"Am I in danger?"
Megumi met her eyes.
"Yes."
Honesty.
Raw and unpadded.
"But," he added, "so is anything that tries to harm you."
For the first time since he stepped through the door, something in his tone sharpened — not rage.
Capability.
Chloe felt it.
That power. Controlled. Compressed. Patient.
She swallowed.
"So what happens now?"
Megumi looked toward the horizon.
"We train."
Her heartbeat spiked.
"Train for what?"
He looked back at her — and for a split second, the distortion behind his head intensified, forming the faintest outline of a ring made not of light, not of shadow —
But absence.
"For when they come to confirm what you are."
The wind surged upward from the valley below.
Chloe stood still, mind racing, fear and exhilaration tangling in equal measure.
He still hadn't told her the full truth.
And that was deliberate.