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“No,” I counter, “Not never. But not now.”
“Why?” he presses. “Because you’re noble? Afraid she can’t handle your... whole eternal-hunger-soul-devourer deal?”
He means it as a jab. I let it land. I let it hurt.
“Yes,” I say quietly.
He falters. Just a beat. But I catch it. Then I sigh, not for the first time, and not for the last. “She’s not ready to carry me. Not yet. My hunger doesn’t just take power, Elias. It becomes her. And if she doesn’t know who she is before that happens, if she’s not steady in her identity, she’ll dissolve.”
I glance at him. “I’d rather live in her orbit unbound forever than be the thing that unravels her.”
He doesn’t have a response for that, so I keep going, because the words are coming now, and for once, I let them.
“I love her,” I say, and it tastes like truth. “Not because she’s strong. Not even because she’s bound to half of us already. I love her because she listens. Because she doesn’t flinch from the parts of us that would make anyone else run. She sees us, all of us, and instead of pulling away, she steps closer.”
I swallow hard. “Because she’s the first Sin-Binder who hasn’t tried to wield us like weapons or heal us like we’re broken. She just... exists with us. And that’s more terrifying than any blade.”
Elias whistles low. “Shit, Vale. You’re gonna make me cry.”
I offer a faint smile. “Then cry.”
But he doesn’t. He claps me on the shoulder and keeps walking, quieter than before. Maybe even humbled.
And behind us, I feel her gaze flicker to my back, like somehow, she knows I said it. Like the bond between us is growing roots even without magic. And I wonder, when she is ready, when she turns to me with that storm in her eyes and chooses, will I still be strong enough to say yes?
“She’s good for us,” I say, breaking the stretch of silence that’s grown too heavy between us.
Elias glances at me like he expects a punchline, but I keep my voice quiet, unadorned. No lecture. Just the truth.
“She’s good for you,” I add, and that gets his attention.
He stops walking. Just halts in the middle of the dead path like he’s lost signal and buffering for something clever to say. But nothing comes. His brows pull together. “You believe that?”
I meet his gaze. “Yes.”
“She’s chaos, Orin.”
“So are you.”
He lets out a half-laugh, half-sigh, raking a hand through his hair. “Yeah, but I’m fun chaos. She’s, like... soul-upending, heart-shattering, make-you-question-your-entire-existence chaos.”
“And?”
“And, ” He pauses again, swearing under his breath. “You’re not supposed to agree with me.”
I allow a rare, soft smile. “I’m not here to argue. I’m here to remind you that being afraid of loving her doesn’t mean you don’t.”
He makes a face like the words are uncomfortable clothes he doesn’t want to wear. “I’m not afraid.”
“You are.”
“I’m not.”
“You are,” I repeat calmly. “And it’s okay.”
Elias’s shoulders hunch as if the weight of that truth settles on his spine. “It’s not supposed to feel like this. I’ve never wanted anyone to know me this well, and she already does. I’ve never wanted anyone to see me, and she looks at me like I’m... worthy. Do you know how terrifying that is?”
I nod, slowly. “Yes.”