Page 18

Kieran

Kaia stands on the balcony, staring out at the storm rolling over the distant mountains. The wind pulls at her hair, stirring her shadows, making them drift and shift with purpose. She’s tense. I can see it in the way she grips the stone railing, in the rigid set of her shoulders.

She knows I’m here.

She’s known since I stepped into the room.

But she doesn’t turn.

“Tell me what you’re not saying.”

Her voice is steady, but I feel the weight beneath it, the demand wrapped in frustration.

I hesitate, though I shouldn’t.

I’ve carried this story for centuries, repeated it so many times it should slip from my lips as easily as breath.

And yet, something about telling her feels… different. Heavier.

More than truth. More than memory.

Still, I keep my voice controlled.

She doesn’t need my emotions .

She needs clarity.

“It wasn’t just about power,” I say finally.

“It was about balance.”

Kaia glances at me, eyes sharp, searching for something in my expression. I make sure she doesn’t find it.

I clasp my hands behind my back, keeping my posture stiff. “We didn’t understand it at first. We didn’t think it mattered.”

She turns fully now, arms crossing over her chest. “You say that like it’s just history. Like it doesn’t mean anything to you.”

I hold her gaze, unflinching. “It is history.”

She lets out a quiet laugh, but there’s no humor in it. “No, it’s not. Not to you.”

She’s perceptive. Too perceptive.

I push forward before she can pry at my armor.

“You were never supposed to be alone,” I tell her. “The Valkyries were a balance to this world, not just warriors, not just ferriers of the dead. You weren’t meant to fade.” I pause, inhaling deeply. “And yet, you did.”

Kaia’s shadows pulse faintly, curling closer to her body. She doesn’t speak.

So I continue.

“When the war came, the realms were divided,” I say, my words careful, measured. “Absentia had already begun to collapse from the inside. Your people were fighting, but they were outnumbered. We—” My throat tightens. I force myself to keep my tone even. “We tried to help.”

Kaia tilts her head slightly, and I brace for the inevitable.

“You failed. ”

The words shouldn’t sting. I’ve told myself this story so many times, relived it more times than I can count. But hearing it from her lips? From the one I couldn’t save?

I swallow hard. “Yes.”

I don’t tell her how many times I searched for her, only to find more of her people dead.

I don’t tell her about the nightmares, the battles, the screams that still echo in my head.

I don’t tell her that even then, I felt something—the bond, the ache of what was lost—even though I didn’t understand it at the time.

Instead, I give her the facts.

“The realms surrounding Absentia saw what happened. They saw an entire people eradicated. And they made a vow—never again.”

Kaia’s fingers twitch at her sides, but she doesn’t interrupt.

“The seers from the eastern realms foresaw it,” I continue, shifting my stance. “That one day, the last Valkyrie would return, and when she did, she would either restore balance—or unravel it completely.”

Kaia exhales slowly. “And you believe it’s me.”

“I know it’s you.”

She lets out a breath that isn’t quite a laugh, shaking her head. “Right. Because fate has already decided for me, hasn’t it?”

I don’t respond.

Because I don’t know what to say.

I’ve spent centuries waiting for her. But I’ve also spent centuries convincing myself that this was inevitable. That I was inevitable.

She takes a slow step toward me, tilting her head slightly. “You’re telling me this like it’s just a history lesson.”

I hold her gaze. “It is history. ”

Her lips press together. I can see her working through her thoughts, sifting through my words, picking apart what I won’t say.

But I won’t give her more than this.

I can’t.

She turns back toward the mountains, shadows still moving restlessly around her, as if they too are unsatisfied with my answer.

The wind shifts, carrying the scent of coming rain.

She speaks without looking at me. “And the berserkers?”

I exhale slowly, my jaw tightening. “They disappeared with your people.”

She stiffens, her fingers tightening around the stone railing.

I step beside her, staring out at the same distant storm.

“The Nightwraiths overwhelmed them,” I say, my voice quieter now, but no less steady.

“The Valkyries didn’t just fall—they became something else.

Something worse. And the berserkers… they were warriors, but they weren’t prepared for the scale of it. No one was.”

Kaia’s breathing is slow, controlled. But I can see it, the tension in her shoulders, the way her nails dig into her palms.

I should stop.

But I don’t.

“They vanished fighting what your people became,” I continue. “And when the last of them was gone, the realms finally understood, true extinction isn’t just about loss. It’s about consequences.”

She turns to me then, her expression unreadable. “And now what?”

I meet her gaze. “Now we make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

She studies me for a long moment, but I can’t tell what she’s looking for.

Finally, she nods once and steps back .

Her shadows follow her.

She’s closing off.

And I let her.

Because this conversation, this truth, is already more than I meant to give her.

So when she turns and walks away, I don’t stop her.

I only watch her go.

Because I don’t deserve to follow.