Page 49 of Elemental Becoming
The bond surges. I surrender to it, letting it take my handas we move through this labyrinth—separating truth from myth, piece by piece.
The way his mother fought. The way the shadows cling to him now. The weight inside him doesn’t feel like grief. It feels older. Bound. Passed on.
Hand in hand, the bond and I keep moving through the maze—each dead end revealing another truth, another buried thread coming to light.
What if someone gave this so-called curse to him? What if his father has been holding it all this time—and none of them ever knew?
His fingers twitch against his lap.
“This whole time . . . ” His voice scrapes raw. “My father has been fighting.”
The words sound like they’re being ripped from him.
“And I—” His breath catches. “I turned my back on him.”
His shoulders tremble.
“This whole time, he was fighting for us.”
His voice breaks completely.
“For his family. For the realm.”
His voice shatters—and so does he. His hands lift, pressing against his face, as if he can block it out, as if he can stop the years of resentment from devouring him alive.
A sharp inhale rattles through him, and then, barely above a whisper—“And my father has been all alone.”
His hands uncurl, fingers shaking as they drop uselessly to his lap.
“Alone in there. In his mind.”
A breath shudders through him.
“For nine years.”
That’s when it hits him. Not like a single, crushing blow—but like something unraveling, breaking apart piece by piece, too fast to hold together. His face crumples, his chest heaving, hishead bowing under the weight of it.
Nine years.
Nine years he hated a man who had never stopped fighting. Never stopped trying. Never stopped loving him.
His breath leaves him in a choked exhale. He caves inward, breaking beneath the weight of it. I move to him, wrapping my arms around him, holding him tight. He doesn’t speak. But I feel it in the way he clings to me. The way he breaks. And through the bond, I feel it all.
The weight.
The years.
The cost.
And the regret.
Every word he spoke in anger. Every wall he built between himself and his family. Every time he pushed them away. Every time he stayed away because it was easier than facing them. Every time he ran.
The realization crushes him.
I hold on, pulling him closer, pressing my cheek into his hair as my tears slip into the darkness between us.
“You didn’t know,” I repeat, my voice breaking. “You didn’t know.”
