The storm eased by dawn, leaving the cave wrapped in a heavy, breathless silence. Kaela sat beside Arion, watching the rise and fall of his chest. Too fast. Too shallow. His fever had climbed through the night, burning through him like wildfire.
She dipped a cloth into the last of their water and pressed it to his forehead. His skin was scorching.
"Arion," she whispered. "Stay with me."
He didn't answer.
His lips moved, but the words were lost — fragments of breath, broken syllables. Kaela leaned closer.
"Arion… what are you seeing?"
His eyes flickered beneath closed lids. His fingers twitched, reaching for something that wasn't there.
Then he spoke.
Not to her.
To someone long gone.
"Master… don't leave me."
Kaela froze.
His voice was younger — raw, terrified. A boy's voice trapped in a man's body.
Arion's breath hitched. "Please… don't make me go back inside. The smoke— I can't—"
Kaela's heart clenched.
He wasn't here.
He was somewhere else.
Somewhere burning.
"Arion!"
A deeper voice echoed from his lips — not his own, but mimicked through memory.
"Run! Don't look back!"
Arion flinched violently, as if struck.
Kaela grabbed his hand. "Arion. It's not real. You're safe."
But he didn't hear her.
His body trembled, breath ragged.
"They're coming," he whispered.
"Varek's men… they're killing everyone—"
Kaela's blood ran cold.
Varek.
The name cut through her like a blade.
Arion's voice cracked. "I tried to help them. I tried— but the fire— gods, the fire—"
Kaela swallowed hard. "Arion, stop. You don't have to relive this."
But he did.
The fever dragged him deeper.
"Master, please— don't die—"
His voice broke.
Kaela felt something inside her fracture.
She had never heard him sound like this. Not calm. Not composed. Not careful. But shattered. Vulnerable. Human.
She brushed damp hair from his forehead. "Arion… who died that night?"
His breath hitched.
A single word escaped his lips.
"Father."
Kaela's heart stopped.
Not the king.
Not the man on the throne.
But the man who raised him.
His mentor.
The one who drew the sketches.
The one who witnessed the truth.
The one Varek killed.
Arion's fingers tightened weakly around hers. "I couldn't save him. I couldn't save any of them."
Kaela's throat tightened. "Arion… it wasn't your fault."
He shook his head, tears slipping from the corners of his eyes. "I ran. I left them. I left them to burn."
Kaela leaned closer, her voice barely a whisper. "You were a child."
"I should have stayed."
"You would have died."
"Maybe I should have."
Kaela's breath caught.
She cupped his cheek, forcing him to feel her touch. "Don't say that. Don't ever say that."
His eyes fluttered open — unfocused, fever‑glazed — but they found her.
Barely.
"Kaela…?" he whispered.
"I'm here."
His lips trembled. "Don't leave."
She swallowed hard. "I won't."
His eyes closed again, but his grip on her hand didn't loosen.
Kaela sat there, holding him, listening to the storm fade and the truth settle like ash around them.
Arion wasn't the monster she'd hunted.
He was a boy who survived a massacre.
A prince framed for a crime he didn't commit.
A man carrying guilt that wasn't his to bear.
Kaela brushed her thumb across his knuckles, her voice soft and fierce.
"You're not alone anymore."
Outside, the Wildlands stirred.
Inside, Kaela realized something terrifying:
The more truth she uncovered…
…the harder it became to imagine a world where she could let him go.