Page 31

KAIA

T he trees feel too close, the night too heavy, but I sit anyway, legs folded under me, blood and dirt caking my skin, staring at the crumbling shack where we dragged our wrecked families to hide.

Mom lies a few feet away, barely breathing, her face pale and hollow. Tarek—Elias’s father—sleeps in fitful jerks, tethered still to the phantom pain of too many years lost.

And Elias.

Elias stands near the shallow cave we crawled into like a goddamn sentry, arms crossed, shoulders coiled tight, watching the dark like it’s a war he can win just by glaring it down.

He hasn’t looked at me once since I sat down.

He doesn’t have to.

I can feel him.

The weight of him. The way he’s holding himself back because he knows I'm one wrong word away from snapping.

Mom stirs, coughing weakly, and my feet move before my brain can catch up. I'm crouched at her side, heart thudding so loud it drowns out everything else.

"Mom," I croak out, and her eyes—faded but still sharp as hell—flutter open.

A weak, broken smile curves her cracked lips. "Kaia... you're alive."

"Yeah," I rasp, bitterness coating the word. "Somehow."

I want to scream at her. I want to shake her until the truth falls out of her like pennies from a busted vending machine. Instead, I sit there, the anger roiling inside me like a storm looking for a place to land.

"What the hell were you doing in there?" I ask, voice sharp enough to slice through bone.

She flinches, shame flickering across her battered face. "I was trying to find you," she whispers. "After the explosion. I... I used my magic. I thought... maybe I could sense you, track you."

I go still, every muscle locking up. Magic. She used magic. In the Order's own goddamn fortress.

"And Dad caught you," I say, low and guttural, not even needing her to confirm it. I can already see it in her hollow, sunken eyes.

She nods weakly, guilt dragging her shoulders down like chains.

I rake a hand through my tangled hair, pacing two sharp steps away because if I don't, I might do something I’ll regret.

"You’re fucking Fae," I say, barely keeping my voice steady. "Aren’t you?"

Mom swallows hard, but she doesn't hide. Doesn’t lie. Doesn’t sidestep.

"Yes," she says simply. "Half. My mother—your grandmother—was Fae. I tried to bury it. To bury it in you . To keep you safe."

I let out a hollow laugh. "Yeah, that worked out real fucking well."

Her eyes shimmer with unshed tears. "I did it because the Order... they would have killed you, Kaia. They would have torn you apart the moment they knew what you were."

I step closer, fists clenched at my sides. "You should have trusted me."

"I couldn’t!" she says, voice rising, cracking under the weight of it. "You were a child. I thought... if I could bind your powers, if I could keep you hidden long enough, you’d have a chance at a normal life."

"But I didn’t, did I?" I snap. "You raised me inside the Order. You raised me to hate what I am."

Mira shakes her head frantically. "It wasn’t supposed to be like this. I thought— I thought we had more time."

I glare at her. "Time for what? To keep lying to me?"

"No," she breathes. "To prepare you."

Something cold slithers down my spine. "Prepare me for what ?"

She reaches out, but I jerk back before she can touch me.

"You’re more than just Fae, Kaia," she says. "You’re a nexus point. The prophecy—it speaks of a bloodline that will either save the Veil... or destroy it."

I stare at her, heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped thing. "And you’re telling me I'm that bloodline?"

Mom's voice drops to a near whisper. "You are the Veil’s last anchor."

The world seems to tilt sideways.

I cross my arms tight across my chest, forcing myself to stay upright when everything inside me is collapsing.

"And if the anchor breaks," I say slowly, "the Veil breaks too."

Mom nods. "And the monsters on the other side—the ones the Veil keeps locked away—will tear through our world. They’ll burn it to ash."

Silence roars between us.

I force myself to meet her eyes. "And you thought lying to me, binding my powers, making me into a good little Order soldier... that was gonna stop it?"

She flinches like I slapped her. "I was trying to protect you."

"Yeah," I say bitterly. "You protected me right into a goddamn prophecy."

A prophecy I never asked for. A future that's not mine to want or not want.

It's just... expected.

I suck in a breath, my vision swimming. "I already figured it out, you know. That I wasn't normal. That something inside me was... wrong."

"Not wrong," Mom says fiercely. "Never wrong. You were always more, Kaia."

"Yeah?" I laugh, but it’s a broken thing. "Then why does it feel like the second I find out who I am, the whole fucking world has already decided what I’m supposed to do ?"

Tears sting my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall.

I can't do this.

I won't do this.

I glance toward Elias, who’s standing there—silent, grim, his eyes carved out of agony.

He would fight for me. I know it like I know how to breathe.

And that’s exactly why I have to leave.

Because if I stay... he'll die for me.

They all will.

And maybe the Veil falls anyway.

Maybe everything falls, and it’ll be my fault.

I turn back to Mom, my voice hoarse. "I love you. I always will. But you lied to me. You built me for something I didn’t choose."

Mom’s face crumples.

I don't wait to see her break completely.

I look at Elias one last time, memorizing the way he stands like a goddamn fortress, memorizing the way his mouth curves like he wants to call me back but he won’t. He knows.

He knows .

And then I run.

Because running feels like the only choice that’s still mine.

Because staying feels like death.

Because if I stay, I bring their ruin with me.

The Veil. The Order. The prophecy.

I see it all laid out ahead of me—death and fire and endings—and I can’t drag them into it.

Not Elias.

Not Mom.

Not even Tarek.

They deserve a chance to survive.

I run harder, tears blurring my vision.

Somewhere behind me, I swear I hear Elias roar my name into the night—but I don’t look back.

I won’t.

I can't.

Because this isn’t just about survival anymore.

It’s about saving them from me.