Page 55 of Elemental Becoming

I still don’t understand it.

“That is not how it has ever felt to me,”Xaroth says.

The words land heavier than they should.

“I have known the same. Shadow magics felt cold. Like ice. Cutting.”

I recall fighting past Commanders who wielded the Shadow Element. The visceral urge in my muscles to flee. To survive. The way it felt like death had a grip on my shoulder.

“I have flown beside Shadow wielders,”he says.“I have seen what it does. What it leaves behind. I have only ever known it as it is now.”

Something tightens in my chest.

“Then something changed,”I say, thinking of my conversations with Valen and Amara since I first wielded it.

“It is possible.”

His words settle between us. Dragons do not speak without purpose. What Xaroth offers, he believes to be true.

“If it wasn’t always corruption . . . ”I drag a hand down my face.“Then what caused it?”

Xaroth’s presence changes, subtle but unmistakable.

“I do not know.”

The admission comes without hesitation.

“But power does not change its nature without cause.”

I stare into the dark beyond the window, my thoughts turning faster.

“Then something twisted it.”

A low rumble answers.“Or something entered it.”

The words settle cold in my bones.

“And my father . . . ”My voice catches.“You think he’s holding it back.”

“From what you’ve discovered, yes. I think your father is holdingsomethingback.”

A deep growl follows those words, but it rolls through me as if it were my own, the thought pressing in: my father is holding something back.

“Where do I go from here, Xaroth? What do I do? How can I free my father? How do I learn what has a hold of him?”

The questions build, one after another, relentless in their rise.

“Tonight, you sleep, Mor’kaar. Quiet your mind. Tomorrow, we start anew.”

The connection fades, a soft exhale against a candle flame.

I turn my head. She’s asleep beside me, her breath against my skin.

I can’t sleep. I don’t think I will tonight.

My eyes are open, fixed on the ceiling above us—dark, blurred, unmoving. But all I see is him.

Nine years of silence. Nine years of distance. Nine years of hating the man I thought abandoned us.