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So I do the only thing that will make him let me go.

I make sure he hates me.

I raise my chin slightly, lips parting, voice smooth.

Empty.

Cruel.

A weapon wrapped in silk.

"You should have known I would leave you first."

His body locks for a split second .

Just long enough for me to see it land.

Long enough for me to know that I have finally, truly hurt him.

Not physically.

Not with steel.

With the truth.

This was never a love story. A human and a dark elf? Impossible.

Few have beat the odds, but still impossible for most. Some have died trying.

It’s definitely not for us.

He lets me walk away. Not because he wants to.

Not because he has given up.

But because he is still trying to understand what he did wrong.

What he could have changed.

What he could have done to make me stay.

But there was never an answer.

Never a way to stop this.

Never a version of us that did not end in blood.

And as I disappear into the trees, as I leave him behind for the last time, as I feel the relic inside me pulse with approval, I know?—

The next time we see each other?—

It will not be as lovers.

It will be as enemies.

45

ZEPHIRAN