Page 34

“I did it!” he said, his voice bright, his eyes shimmering with pride.

“You did,” Kildare said, squeezing Kross’s shoulder. “Now, what else do you have in there? Push the fire back, let something else surface. Something deeper. Feel for it. Like a tug in your chest.”

Kildare felt the air shift—a deep tug, like a current pulling at his own fire, stirring a truth he couldn’t name. Kross’s eyes widened, a flicker of fear in them, and his shield snapped backup, his hands clenching. “It’s… heavy,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “Like… it’s too deep. I… I don’t think I’m supposed to touch it.” His head shook quickly. “Not yet.”

Kildare’s wings shuddered slightly, his fire coiling protectively at the boy’s fear. “That’s Kaos’s power—a pull that draws out what’s true. It’s deep, like Reuban’s warmth, but it’s got a dangerous depth to it, doesn’t it? Something dark, something you’re not ready for.” He kept his voice calm, reassuring, as he met Kross’s gaze. “You’re right to pull back, Star-Eyes. That’s Kaos’s strength in you. But it’s not time. Let it rest—we’ll come back to it when you’re ready. What else do you feel? Push that tug back, let something else surface. Something warm, like a light in your heart.”

A pulse of warmth spread, naming Kildare’s pride before he could speak, overwhelming in its rawness. Kross’s brows furrowed, his voice small. “It’s… it knows things. Like… I know you’re… happy, but… worried too.”

Kildare smiled softly. “That’s Reuban’s gift. It can name what others feel, like a light in your heart. Push all the other feelings behind it. Let it come. What else does it tell you? About me, or about yourself?”

Kross’s hands clenched, his green specks swirling in his dark gaze. “It… it says I’m… scared,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “But… I’m happy too. Because you’re here. And… it says you’re… proud, but… you’re worried about… something big.”

Kildare’s wings folded closer, his fire humming with a protective warmth. “That’s good, Little King. That’s Reuban’s warmth in you—knowing hearts, even your own. It’ll help you understand others, and yourself. It’s right—I’m proud of you, but I’m worried about what’s coming. That’s a big truth, and you felt it.” He angled his head now. “What else, Little Spark? You’refull of so many gifts,” he bragged with a grin. “You feel anything else?”

Kildare waited, watching him get earnest again, his breaths turning shallow after a moment. “I feel something,” he whispered, brows pulling together sharply before he looked right at Kildare. “It’s the Angel of Mothers,” he whispered in quiet reverence. “Her power… it’s… holding me. Soft… but… sostrong.”

“That’s Larena’s heart,” Kildare said, his voice thick with reverence. “Her love is in you. Like a song that protects.” Kildare took both his hands in his and stared into his gaze. “Now,” he urged, allowing his fire to help with this one. “I want you to search for something special inside. Something that feels like… gravity. Pulling at your insides, squeezing and embracing all that you are.”

Kross held his eyes for many seconds before his own filled with tears. “Mother,” he barely whispered, his chin quivering as he moved their hands to his chest. “It’s hot,” he breathed, tears falling freely. “It burns and hurts,” he strained. “It’s everywhere inside me. Humming. Like a special secret.”

“That’s yourhumanity,” Kildare whispered with awe, catching the fresh tears that fell. “The blood that she gave is part of that. And it is your most holy and powerful gift.”

Kildare’s heart broke when the boy lunged on him, hugging his neck. “I didn’t mean to, Father. I didn’t mean to hurt her. I love Mother.”

“I know you do,” he soothed, his wings wrapping around them. “It wasn’t you, My Little Fire. It was her gift. And it was hers to give. But you must never be sad about it, you understand?”

He nodded, and released his neck, wiping his eyes. “Then I will never be sorry for it,” he swore, his voice an octave deeper now.

Kildare stood and spread his wings, seeing the stretch that had taken place in Kross’s frame. “You’re growing so fast, Star-Eyes. Soon, you won’t have anything from childhood to remember. How about we fix that?” He regarded him curiously, and Kildare opened his hand. “I’ll need your arm.”

Kross gave it to him without hesitation and Kildare held up his finger, showing him the sharpened flame he’d created. “Little biting sting,” he warned, lowering it and began etching onto his forearm. “A star for your father Kaos,” he said, watching his fist clench. He moved the fire over and etched again. “A crescent for your Mother,” he murmured, then created a single line. “A slash for your father Krave,” he explained, lifting his finger and touching down briefly with a grin. “Just a… reddotfor me,” he said, before swirling the fire again. “A gold spiral for Reuban. And…” he added lightly, moving his finger over. “A pearl teardrop for the Angel of Mothers.” He smiled and held his finger up before Kross. “Blow out the candle.”

Kross touched the marks, his gaze soft as he raised his gaze and blew the fire.

His breath acted like gasoline and created a torch. Kildare jerked his hand back with a laugh. “Little King!” He put the fire out with a single swing of his hand.

“I didn’t mean it!” he cried in shock.

“Let me have a look at those records,” Kildare urged, taking his arm and eyeing the etchings with a proud nod. “And the Heavenly Kissing King looked upon the impeccable marks adorning the skin of the Noble Young King of Four Kings and saw… that they were good. They wereverygood.”

Kross’s smile beamed as he touched them softly. “Theyarevery good, Father,” he breathed. “Thank you.”

****

The dusk light barely reached the shadowed patch behind the hut, where Krave paced, his boots kicking up faint clouds of dust that clung to the damp air. His divine winds churned in his chest, a restless storm that hadn’t settled since he’d left the hut thirty minutes ago, unable to stand the suffocating weight of that dark tomb with Kaos prostrating over Josie, his snow-white frame draped across her still form.

The air out here was cool, heavy with the scent of damp earth and oak, but it didn’t do a damn thing for the biting tension in his gut. His fingers twitched with itching winds, needing to lash out and break something, anything just to ease the storm inside him.

Kaos had asked for time alone, red and green eyes shimmering with a depth Krave hadn’t seen before.“Leave me with her.”

Krave had stepped out with a fragile hope that maybe Kaos could raise her. Becausesomethingin him was different since he’d returned from the grave, as if he’d come back with more than he’d left with, yet lacked something he once had. Krave felt it in the way Kaos’s power moved. It had a new weight, a new will. Like he held a key to something Krave couldn’t name.

Krave’s head whipped around as a deep laugh sliced through the dusk that he didn’t recognize. He hurried toward the sound and rounded the hut, freezing at the sight beneath the oak tree. Kildare was in dragon form, scales glinting like molten fire andtheboy—nearly a fuckingmannow—was climbing down from Kildare’s back, laughter bubbling up again as he slid to the ground.

Something similar to pissed envy surged through his winds as the front door of the hut creaked open. Kaos stepped out, snow-white frame rigid, black hair spilling like ink over his shoulders. A faint hiss escaped his ashen lips as he eyed Kross.

Krave’s winds pulled him toward the man-child like a magnet, and Kross snapped his head toward him. The second his dark gaze hit him, it lit up and filled him with the kind of heat that belonged to fire.