Page 37

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LIORA

I haven’t seen Thorne in weeks.

Not since the council turned their backs on us. Not since he let me walk away with fire burning under my skin and a war knocking at my bones.

But tonight, I need answers.

I need him —whether I like it or not.

His sanctuary is exactly where I remember it: carved into the base of the old hollow tree just beyond the Veil's weakest point, deep in the Wychwood. Hidden. Timeless.

Fitting for a man who’s always been more myth than mentor.

The magic guarding the perimeter lets me through without resistance. That’s the first sign something’s off—Thorne never lowers his wards. Not unless he’s expecting you. Or he wants to test how far you’ve come.

I step inside the chamber hollowed from roots and earth, where glowing stones pulse like slow heartbeats along the ceiling.

He’s there. Sitting cross-legged by the fire. Cloaked in shadow and silence.

“Liora,” he says, without looking up. “I was wondering when you’d come.”

“You knew I would.”

“Of course.”

His voice is calm. Always calm. Like a storm that’s already passed but left the wreckage behind.

I cross my arms, plant my feet.

“You’ve been avoiding me.”

“I’ve been giving you space.”

“You’ve been hiding, ” I snap, more heat than I mean to show. “While Seraphiel manipulates my blood, while the council sits on their hands, while I?—”

“While you become.”

He finally turns to face me. His eyes are old—older than they should be. There’s sadness in them, but no regret.

Not yet.

“You’re not surprised,” I breathe. “About what I am. What I can do.”

“I’ve never been surprised by you, little star.”

The name stops me cold. My stomach sinks. I know the others said that he knew, but hearing him admit it feels like betrayal.

“You knew.”

He nods, slow. Grave.

“You’ve known this whole time. ”

The room spins, rage climbing my throat like bile. “And you didn’t tell me?”

“What would it have changed?”

“I could’ve prepared! I could’ve protected people?—”

“Or destroyed them, before you were ready.”

I flinch like he slapped me.

His voice is steady, but sharp now.

“You were born of a forbidden union, Liora. Fae and celestial. Shadow and star. Your mother broke an oath to bring you into this world, and your father?—”

“My father ?”

Thorne looks away.

“You never told me I had one.”

He sighs. “Everyone has a father. Not all are worth remembering.”

I swallow the knot rising in my throat. “So I was born for this prophecy?”

“Yes.”

“And you trained me knowing exactly what I was meant to be?”

“I trained you so you’d have a choice, ” he says, suddenly standing. “Not so prophecy could choose for you.”

My hands curl into fists. “And now what? You just step back? Watch me burn?”

“No.” His gaze meets mine. Fierce. “I step back because I can’t interfere. Not now. The choices ahead must be yours.”

“You mean the council won’t let you.”

“I mean fate won’t.”

I shake my head, laughing bitterly. “So you’d rather let the world end than help me fight?”

He doesn’t blink.

“It’s not in my hands, Liora.”

“Do you want me to fail?”

His voice drops. “No.”

“Do you want the world to burn? ”

“It’s not about what I want. ”

My chest tightens. “I need you. I need you with us.”

He steps close, gently cups the side of my face like he used to when I was younger, when I cried over power I couldn’t control and runes I couldn’t read.

“I’ve taught you everything I could,” he whispers. “And it has always— always —been in your hands.”

Tears sting my eyes.

“I don’t know if I’m strong enough.”

“Yes,” he says. “You do.”

I walk out of the sanctuary and into the night, heart fractured but clearer than it’s been in days.

He won’t walk this path with me. But he believes I can walk it. And maybe that’s enough.

I just hope I believe it, too.