Page 56 of Elemental Becoming

While I saw failure, he was becoming the shield.

I want to be sick with the guilt of it. Maybe I am. But guilt istoo clean for this.

This is rot. Regret in the bones.

Rage turned inward so long it hardened into something I wear like armor. Every word I never said. Every visit I put off. Every time I turned away from him. From her. From all of it.

I thought I was moving forward. But I was running.

And I left him behind.

Amara stirs beside me, and her hand brushes against mine. Even unconscious, she reaches for me.

Gods. What did I do to deserve her?

She saw what I couldn’t. Felt what I refused to. Not just the bond, but the truth underneath.

I don’t know how she does it. How she stays open. Carries so much without folding in on herself. She watched me fall apart, and she held me through it. Now I lie beside her in the aftermath, awake in the quiet, trying to piece together what’s left of me. Trying to make sense of nine years of useless hatred. Nine years of foolish silence.

I don’t know what tomorrow looks like. But right now, in this breath, with her beside me and the bond still humming low and steady beneath my skin, I know one thing.

I was wrong.

Now I have to learn how to carry that.

Not alone. But with her. Because maybe the only way to survive this kind of truth is to stop carrying it alone.

SADNESS OF THE HEART

EIGHT

“How long must we wait for salvation? For another to discern whether our silence stems from peace or from the quiet violence of being unheard? The deeper tragedy is not silence itself, but the erasure of voice: the inability to speak truth, to warn, to protect those we hold dear. It is not merely the absence of words that wounds, but the absence of being recognized as someone who once had something to say.”

—VALEN’S JOURNAL

AMARA

When I wake, Thane is still beside me.

Dawn breaks beyond the thick stone walls of the Fire Clan’s stronghold. Golden light slips through the slatted windows, casting long shadows across the chamber. As the castle wakes I hear footsteps in the corridors, the faint clang of armor, and the murmurs of voices preparing for the day.

The night rushes back to me all at once; the way the bond pulled me to the balcony. Thane’s guilt and grief at what we discovered. The way the shadows moved even when Thane wasn’t wielding.

I turn, my breath catching when I find Thane watching me. He lies on his side, one arm tucked under his head, the other resting in front of him. He looks tired, the shadows beneath his eyes deeper than usual—but there’s a quiet resolve there too.

His gaze roves over my face, lingering. Then, voice raspy from sleep, he murmurs, “Morning.”

Warmth spreads through me and I smile as I reach for his hand. Thane’s skin is warm, his calloused fingertips rough against my own.

The realizations of last night settle in my chest, fragile now in the light of day; my theory, the pieces finally fitting together in a way I hadn’t let myself believe.

The curse is not what we thought.

And Thane’s father—he might be holding it at bay. Not because he’s immune, but because I can’t think of anything inside him for it to latch onto. Not grief. Not regret. Not the kind of wound the shadows seem to seek.

I blink the last traces of sleep from my eyes and study him. “How are you doing this morning?”

Thane exhales, the corners of his lips curving slightly. “Better.”