The hover-car glided through the city in silence.
Selene sat in the back seat, Jade cradled against her chest, one hand stroking his blood-matted hair with infinite gentleness.
His small hands still clutched her robe like a lifeline.
Kael drove, jaw tight, knuckles white where they gripped the control panel. Every few seconds, his eyes flicked to the rearview display, checking on them.
On his wife holding the boy protectively
The boy who'd walked into hell and come back bleeding.
The city lights blurred past—neon and shadow, life continuing as if nothing had happened. Somewhere out there, people laughed in bars. Vendors hawked their wares. Couples strolled beneath artificial stars.
And beneath it all, in the dark places no one wanted to see, fifteen children had been caged and tortured.
Sixteen, if you counted the one who'd died.
Kael's hands tightened on the controls.
Every single one of them will burn, he thought coldly. I'll make sure of it.
Behind him, Selene's voice broke the silence soft, barely above a whisper.
"Jade, sweetheart... we're almost there."
Jade nodded softly against her chest in response
Selene pressed a kiss to the top of his head, her own tears still wet on her cheeks.
"Niamh's waiting for you," she murmured. "She's been so worried."
At the mention of Niamh's name, warmth spread through Jade's heart. A tiny spark of awareness breaking through the fog.
"Niamh..." he whispered hoarsely.
The shop came into view, its sign still glowing softly despite the late hour. Light spilled from the windows, warm and golden, a beacon in the darkness.
The hover-car descended smoothly, touching down in the narrow street outside.
Before Kael could even fully stop, the shop door burst open.
Niamh.
She stood in the doorway, her silver hair loose and wild, face pale with terror barely held in check. Behind her, Amara hovered, hands pressed to her sides. And beyond them both, standing with his arms crossed but eyes sharp with concern was Gorvoth.
The old smith looked exactly as he always did—broad-shouldered, weathered, with scars crisscrossing his exposed arms and a face that had seen too many battles. His grey beard was braided, his clothing simple but well-made. And his eyes, keen and measuring , tracked every movement as the hover-car door opened.
Selene stepped out first, still holding Jade.
Niamh's breath caught.
"Jade—!"
She crossed the distance in three strides, hands reaching for him, eyes wide with desperation and relief and fear all tangled together.
Selene carefully transferred him into Niamh's arms, and the moment Jade felt her familiar touch, safe and home, something inside him crumbled all over again.
"Niamh..." His voice broke on her name.
"I've got you," Niamh whispered fiercely, crushing him against her chest. "I've got you, baby. You're home. You're safe."
Her hands ran over him frantically,
checking for wounds, for breaks, for anything. And when she saw the plasma burn on his shoulder, the blood soaking his clothes, her face went white.
"You're hurt—we need to—"
"I'm fine," Jade mumbled into her shoulder.
"It's... it's not my blood. Most of it."
That didn't comfort her. If anything, it made her hold him tighter.
Gorvoth stepped forward, his deep voice rumbling through the night. "Bring him inside."
It wasn't a suggestion.
Niamh didn't argue. She turned and carried Jade back toward the shop, Amara rushing ahead to clear space, Gorvoth following close behind.
Selene and Kael exchanged a glance.
"I should go with them," Selene said softly.
Kael nodded. "I need to return to the site. Coordinate the rescue teams. But..." He hesitated, jaw working. "Tell Niamh... tell her I'm sorry. This should never have happened."
Selene's expression softened. She reached up, cupping his face gently. "You didn't know. None of us did."
"I should have," Kael said harshly. "It was my city. My responsibility."
"Then make it right," Selene said simply.
Kael's eyes hardened to steel. "I intend to."
She kissed him once—quick, fierce—then turned and followed the others inside.
....
.....
The interior of Happy Happy was warm and bright, the air thick with the scent of herbs and alchemical compounds. But tonight, the usual calm felt fragile, like glass about to shatter.
Niamh had carried Jade to the back room—the private space where fourteen had lived, away from customers and prying eyes. She set him down on the low couch, kneeling in front of him, hands still gripping his arms as if afraid he'd disappear.
"Let me see," she said, voice shaking. "Let me see where you're hurt."
Jade didn't resist as she carefully peeled away his torn, bloodied tunic. The plasma burn on his shoulder was angry and raw, blistered at the edges. Niamh sucked in a sharp breath.
"Jade—"
"I can heal it," he said quietly. "I just... I didn't..."
He trailed off, staring at his hands. They were still covered in blood—dried and cracked, staining the lines of his palms.
Her blood.
Niamh followed his gaze and understood immediately. She grabbed a cloth and a basin of water, gently taking his hands in hers.
"It's okay," she murmured, washing away the blood with slow, careful strokes. "You're okay."
Jade nodded weakly.
After a thorough job of cleansing Jade of the blood that matted his features, Niamh set the cloth aside and pulled him into her arms, cradling his head against her shoulder.
"You're home," she whispered. "Whatever happened out there... you're home now."
Jade's hands fisted in her shirt, and he buried his face in her neck, breathing in the familiar scent of her—herbs and soap and safety.
For a long moment, they just stayed like that.
Niamh holding him. Jade letting himself be held.
Gorvoth stood in the doorway, arms crossed, watching silently. His expression was unreadable, but there was something soft in his eyes—something that looked almost like grief.
Behind him, Amara stood, trying and failing to compose herself. Selene had settled into a chair nearby, her own face drawn and pale.
Then, from the front of the shop, footsteps echoed.
Quick and urgent.
"Jade?! Where's Jade?!"
Lio.
He burst into the back room, hair disheveled, eyes wild. He must have been out—probably heard the commotion, the hover-car arriving.
His gaze landed on Jade immediately, and relief flooded his face.
"You're back—thank the stars, you're—"
He stopped.
Something in Jade's posture—the way he was clinging to Niamh, made Lio's relief falter.
"Jade...?" Lio's voice was quieter now, uncertain. "What... what happened?"
Jade didn't lift his head from Niamh's shoulder.
Lio's eyes darted around the room, taking in the blood on Jade's discarded clothes, the burn on his shoulder, the grief etched into Niamh's face.
"Where's the girl?" Lio asked slowly. "The one you went after. Fourteen. Did you—did you find her?"
Silence.
Heavy. Suffocating.
Jade's hands tightened on Niamh's shirt, and a broken sound escaped him, half-breath.
Lio's face went pale. "Jade...?"
Jade finally lifted his head, meeting Lio's eyes.
And Lio saw it.
The answer written in Jade's expression—in the hollow emptiness, the guilt, the grief too heavy for words.
"No..." Lio breathed. "No, you—you saved her. You got her out. She's—"
"She's dead," Jade whispered.
The words hung in the air like a death knell.
Lio staggered back a step, shaking his head.
"But—but you're you. You can heal anything. You—"
"I tried." Jade's voice cracked. "I tried, Lio. But I couldn't—"
He couldn't finish.
Lio's face crumpled. His hands flew to his mouth, eyes filling with tears. "Oh gods..."
Amara let out a choked sob, turning away, shoulders shaking. Selene closed her eyes, fresh tears slipping down her cheeks.
And Niamh...
Niamh held Jade tighter, pressing her face into his hair, her own tears falling silently.
Gorvoth's jaw tightened. He looked away.
"It's not your fault," Lio said suddenly, voice thick with tears. "Jade, it's—it's not—"
"She died saving me," Jade whispered. "She thought I was in danger and she—she threw herself—"
His voice broke completely.
Lio stumbled forward, dropping to his knees beside Jade and Niamh. His hands hovered uncertainly before settling on Jade's arm.
"You did everything you could," Lio said, voice raw. "I know you did. You always do."
"It wasn't enough."
"It's never enough," Gorvoth said quietly from the doorway. His voice was rough, aged, carrying the weight of someone who'd lived through loss. "No matter how strong you are. No matter how hard you fight. Sometimes... people die anyway."
Jade lifted his head, staring at the old smith.
Gorvoth met his gaze steadily. "And it will haunt you. Every day. Every night. You'll see her face when you close your eyes. You'll wonder what you could have done differently."
Jade's throat tightened.
"But," Gorvoth continued, voice softening just slightly, "you saved fifteen others.
Fifteen children who will live because of you. That doesn't erase what you lost. But it matters."
Jade looked down at his now clean hands.
"She asked me to take care of her sister," he whispered. "And the others. To get justice."
"Then we will," Niamh said firmly, pulling back just enough to cup his face. Her eyes, red-rimmed and fierce, held his. "We'll make sure they're safe. All of them. And the monsters who did this will pay."
"Kael's already moving," Selene added softly. "Every noble, every official, every bastard involved will be hunted down. I'll make sure of it."
Jade nodded numbly.
But the weight in his chest didn't lift.
Lio shifted closer, wrapping his arms around both Jade and Niamh. He himself struggling to hold back the sobs that struggled to choke him .
Amara joined them next, kneeling and pressing her forehead against Jade's shoulder, her tears soaking into his skin.
And then, slowly, Gorvoth moved forward. He placed one large, scarred hand on top of Jade's head—a gesture surprisingly gentle from such a rough man.
"You did good, boy," he rumbled. "Don't let grief tell you otherwise."
Selene rose and wrapped her arms around the group from behind, completing the circle.
And there, in the warm light of Happy Happy, surrounded by the people who loved him, Jade finally let himself break completely.
He grieved for the girl who'd died thinking she'd saved him.
For the children who'd been caged and broken.
For the sister who'd lost her only family.
For the weight of a power that could do so much—but still, somehow, not enough.
And they held him through it all.
Niamh whispering reassurances. Lio gripping him tightly. Amara crying with him.
Gorvoth standing steady as stone. Selene wrapping them all in warmth.
Because grief, they understood, wasn't something you carried alone.
It was something you survived together.
Outside, the city hummed on.
Oblivious.
Uncaring.
But in one small shop, lit by warm golden light, a family held each other and wept for a girl who'd never known kindness until the very end.
And vowed—silently, fiercely—that her death would mean something.