I GOT NERVOUS.
"Miss Whitlock."
Ryan's voice cut through the room like a blade, clean and cold.
I froze. My head whipped toward the door where the Headmaster stepped inside, his figure framed by the faint spill of lamplight from the hall. His expression was unreadable, but his gaze moved swiftly. He then froze in the doorway the second his eyes landed on Riven. For a heartbeat, everything in the room seemed to lock into place.
Ryan's voice was clipped, controlled, but there was no mistaking the alarm underneath.
"Who is this boy?!" His gaze flicked to me, then back to Riven, lingering on the weapon at his side. "And why is he in your room?"
My stomach lurched. It was exactly the situation I'd been terrified of—Riven discovered, standing here looking like a trespasser in the worst possible moment. Beside me, Riven stiffened. His hand twitched toward the gun at his belt before he stopped himself. The room went taut, the air sharp enough to slice.
My mind then spun when Ryan repeated his question, a dozen truths and half-truths clawing at my throat, each one louder than the last. If I told Ryan everything—the willow tree, the nights Riven waited for me, the risks we took slipping into the woods—he'd see it as betrayal. Reckless. Proof that I wasn't ready for responsibility. But if I said nothing, if I reduced Riven to a nameless trespasser, then I'd be condemning him. Ryan would cast him out, maybe worse, and all the times Riven had saved me would count for nothing. I wanted to protect them both. I mean, both Ryan's trust and Riven's life. And yet the weight of Ryan's gaze pressed down on me, demanding an answer I didn't know how to give. My tongue felt heavy, my chest tight with the impossible choice—tell the truth and risk losing everything, or hide it and watch trust crumble anyway. But instead, my mouth opened before I could even protest.
"He's not—" The words tripped out too fast, and I steadied myself, meeting Ryan's eyes. "He's not a threat, Headmaster."
Ryan's brow arched, attention cutting between us like a blade. "Not a threat? You bring an armed stranger into this house and expect me to believe that?"
Riven stayed silent, but the tension in him was obvious. He wasn't reaching for his weapon, wasn't making a move, yet every muscle in him was coiled, like he was ready if things went wrong.
I stepped forward, forcing my voice to hold. "Please, Headmaster—just listen. If it weren't for him, I wouldn't have made it back after—" I stopped, swallowing the words before I said too much. "He's not here to hurt anyone."
Ryan's eyes narrowed, hard as stone. "And I'm supposed to take your word for that?"
"Yes," I said, though my voice trembled at the edges. I gestured toward Hunter, who had pressed close to Riven's leg.
Ryan's gaze shifted briefly to the dog, then back to Riven, unsoftened. The silence was suffocating. I could feel my pulse hammering in my throat, my chest, the tips of my fingers.
"Please," I said again, quieter this time, almost pleading. "He's not who you think. Headmaster," I stammered, heat rushing to my cheeks. "I can explain—"
"No need," Ryan interrupted smoothly, his tone calm in a way that made my stomach knot tighter. "I know more than you think."
My stomach dropped.
He closed the door behind him as though sealing us in with the weight of his disapproval. His eyes found mine, unblinking. "What you and Harriet and Dwight have been up to… I know everything."
The words struck harder than I expected. My mouth went dry.
"And before you ask how, Doctor Crowe told me everthing I need to know. You've been plotting behind my back. Sneaking into places you shouldn't. Investigating what you're not ready to face. Do you realize what you've done? The danger you've brought not only to yourselves, but to everyone in this house?"
I opened my mouth again, desperate to explain, to defend, but he raised a hand and silenced me with a look.
"Do you want an example?" His tone sharpened. "Look at Harriet. Collapsing, her strength drained. Do you think that was chance? Do you think the Others don't know exactly how to weaken us?"
The memory of her pale face, her body limp in Dwight's arms, surged into my mind like a punch. I bit down hard on my tongue, forcing myself not to break in front of him.
Ryan's gaze hardened. "We are still studying what was injected into her. Still searching for an antidote. And while we work to save her, you run off into enemy territory as if you're untouchable."
Guilt pricked at me, but beneath it was something else—anger. Anger at the suggestion that doing nothing, that waiting in silence, was somehow safer when children were being hunted, when Lucinda's husband had been shot, when the briefcase of horrors sat hidden under my bed.
But before I could gather that fury into words, Ryan's eyes slid past me and landed on Riven.
"And you," Ryan said, his voice dropping lower. "Why did you think this was a good idea? To fight an enemy you don't understand? To endanger her?"
The accusation cut through me sharper than it should have. I turned, but Riven didn't look at me—his eyes stayed locked on Ryan's, unflinching, though his hands lifted slowly in surrender.
"I dragged her into this, Sir," Riven said quietly. "I'm sorry."
Ryan's jaw clenched. "And you let her."
"No, he didn't!"
"Silence, Alice!" Ryan yelled.
Silence bristled between us.
My throat burned. "Ryan, if you think—"
That's when the door banged open.
"Alice!" Dwight's voice rang out as he stumbled in, Eleanor just behind him. His eyes darted straight to me, but Ryan stepped forward and cut him off with a sharp gesture.
"Not another word, Mr. Carrington," Ryan said firmly. "You're involved in this too."
Dwight froze, his jaw snapping shut.
The air thickened even further, so heavy it felt hard to breathe. Behind me, the window shuddered faintly. Sebastian, who'd perched silently outside, had shifted at the rising voices. His eyes gleamed through the glass. And instinctively, he hopped onto the sill, wings half-unfurled like blades ready to strike.
Riven's hand lifted higher, palms out now, a sign of surrender, but his shoulders were tense, coiled like a spring. Ryan's gaze moved from Sebastian's sharp beak to Riven's steady hands, then back to me.
"I'll ask this once," he said, low and commanding, "and you will answer truthfully. Who is he?" His chin jerked toward Riven. "And why is he here?"
My heart thundered so loudly I thought the whole room must hear it. Riven's eyes flicked to mine. And in that moment, I knew two things with startling clarity: one, that the truth could ruin everything. And two, that I couldn't betray him.
I swallowed hard, lifted my chin, and forced my voice to steady.
"His name is Riven, Headmaster Ryan," I said before I lost my nerve. The words tumbled out faster than I meant them to. "He's part of the military team that was sent near the outskirts of Willowmere. When I was wandering outside the home's perimeter, I met him under the willow tree, which was a place not far from the house. Riven was—he was hiding ever since after his unit was ambushed. They're all gone now. He's the only one left."
Ryan didn't move. He just watched me, still as stone, his expression unreadable. That silence pressed on me harder than if he'd shouted.
I forced myself to keep going. "And he saved me. More than once. If it weren't for him, I wouldn't be standing here."
My voice shook, but I didn't stop. "He isn't like the Others, Headmaster Ryan. He's not gifted, but he's not one of them either. He's just a human being. An ordinary one. He… he's just trying to survive. Same as us."
Ryan's eyes narrowed a fraction. "And you thought it wise to bring him into our circle? Into our trust? Without a word to anyone?"
I swallowed hard. My throat felt tight, but I stood straighter. "I didn't plan it. I didn't even know if I could trust him at first. But he kept showing up. Not to threaten, not to harm—just… to be there."
Riven looked at me as I smiled at him. "He showed up for me."
Ryan leaned forward. "Alice, do you understand what you've done? You've opened a door that cannot easily be closed. Every child in this house, every secret we guard—you've put them at risk for a man we barely know."
Still, I said, "I know him better than you think. He's seen the Others. He's heard what they're planning. Without him, we'd be blind."
The room seemed to hold its breath.
Ryan's expression didn't shift, but something in his eyes darkened.
Eleanor's soft gasp filled the silence. Dwight's hand twitched like he wanted to pull me behind him. And Riven… Riven didn't move, didn't speak. But his eyes—storm-grey, steady—never left mine.
And that was somehow enough to steady me.
The silence that followed my words was so heavy it almost felt like another wall inside my room. Ryan's eyes lingered on me for a moment longer before shifting to Dwight, who stiffened under his gaze.
"I'll take care of the rest," Ryan said, his tone clipped, final. "But from this moment on, none of you leave the house unsupervised. Do you understand?"
I nodded quickly, afraid that if I hesitated, he might change his mind.
Before I could fire back, Eleanor spoke. She had been quiet all this time.
"Ry." Her voice was calm, the kind that could pull a storm back into the sea. "Enough."
Ryan's jaw tightened, but he didn't interrupt. He never did when Eleanor used that tone.
She stepped closer, her eyes softer than his but no less steady. "Alice isn't reckless. She wouldn't stand here defending this man if she didn't believe it with every part of her. We've both seen what happens when fear dictates every choice. Don't let it dictate this one."
For a moment, silence pressed between the three of us. Ryan's breathing was heavy, his knuckles pale where they pressed into my desk stationed near him.
Eleanor laid a hand on his arm. "Listen to her. If what she says is true—if this Riven has knowledge of the Others—then dismissing him blindly isn't protection."
Ryan's eyes flicked to me again, still sharp but wavering, as though Eleanor's words had cracked something in his resolve. I didn't dare move, didn't dare breathe. But finally, Ryan exhaled through his nose, a slow release of tension. "If he stays… if he is even tolerated near this house… then his safety and ours rest on a knife's edge." His gaze pinned me like a nail. "One wrong move, Alice, and I will not hesitate."
Riven didn't flinch. He just stood there, shoulders squared, with eyes calm as stone. If he felt insulted, he didn't show it. Afterward, Eleanor's hand brushed Ryan's sleeve gently. With a reluctant sigh, he turned and left the room, the heavy click of the door echoing like the last beat of a drum. Eleanor gave me the faintest smile before following him out, her steps lighter but no less wary.
"Don't worry, dear. I'll talk to him," was all she said.
The room sagged with sudden quiet. For the first time since Riven had climbed through my window, it was just us again—me, Dwight, Sebastian perched silent on the sill, and Riven standing in the middle of the room like a shadow that hadn't yet decided where it belonged. Dwight rubbed the back of his neck, and his eyes flicked uneasily from me to Riven. "Well," he muttered, "that could've gone worse." He gave me a look that was half relief, half warning, and left without waiting for me to answer.
Sebastian tilted his head. "Your headmaster doesn't like loose ends," he said softly, feathers shivering as he shifted back into the shape of a humanoid. "And Riven… you are one. Best keep low, as Alice will say."
Then, with a flap and a flicker, he vanished out the window, leaving me alone with Riven at last.
I let out the breath I'd been holding. "That was…" My voice trailed off.
"Scary?" Riven offered, his tone dry but quiet.
I glanced at him, and for the first time tonight, the hardness in his expression softened. His mouth curved into something almost like a smile, though it didn't quite reach his eyes.
"Yeah," I whispered. "Scary."
***
That evening, I slid aside the scattered books and folded blankets I'd hoarded, to clear a corner for Riven. Riven sat by the window as I worked, his back against the wall, with Hunter curled at his boots. I told him not to interfere. I do not like having someone touch my stuff. So instead of assisting me, he watched me quietly.
Finally, he asked, "What happens now?"
I paused, blanket in my hands. "What do you mean?"
His gaze flicked to the cleared space, then back to me. "Me. Staying here. What happens to me now that I'm… what? A resident?" The word sat awkwardly in his mouth, like it didn't fit. "Do I just—live? Pretend I belong?"
I wanted to tell him yes, that things would be normal, that he could be safe here. But the truth clawed at the back of my throat: nothing about this was safe, and neither of us knew what belonging even meant anymore. Instead, I folded the blanket, buying myself time.
"I don't know," I admitted at last. "But you're here now. That's something."
He studied me for a moment longer. Then he nodded once, as if that was enough.
I busied myself with the space again, arranging and rearranging until it looked less like a corner and more like a place. A place for him. It was clumsy, but it mattered. When I finally sat back, exhausted from nerves more than effort, Riven leaned forward.
"Hey, Whit." His voice was low.
I looked up.
"Thank you."
I felt my cheeks warm up. My chest tightened, and I couldn't bring myself to answer. Not right away. Instead, I busied myself with fluffing the pillow, pretending it needed it. Pretending I wasn't afraid of how much those two words stirred in me.
After that, the night dragged quiet. Hunter shifted in his sleep near the cushion I pointed, paws twitching as if chasing something in a dream. The wind outside rattled the shutters, but the storm had long since passed. Riven stretched out on the blanket I'd laid for him, one arm behind his head, the other resting against his stomach. His breathing slowed, steadying, but I could tell he wasn't fully asleep.
And me? I lay on my bed, staring at the ceiling. I thought of Ryan's words. Of Harriet's pale face when she collapsed. Of Dwight. Of Sebastian. And beneath all of it, I thought of Riven—the way his eyes had softened when he thanked me. My mind should've been on CYGNUS, on codes and enemies and what waited for us in the shadows. But instead, it circled back to him, again and again, no matter how much I tried to steer it elsewhere.
I turned onto my side, facing the corner where he lay. In the half-light, his features were gentler than I'd ever seen them, his usual edge dulled by exhaustion. I closed my eyes, forcing myself to breathe slow.
The next day, Miss Byrd's voice rang out from downstairs, calling everyone for breakfast. The familiar clang of the dinner bell followed as usual. When I finished fixing myself after waking up, I turned to Riven, who was still sitting by the window with Hunter at his side. His hand absentmindedly rested on the dog's head, but his eyes were far away.
"Now's the best time to introduce you to everyone, I think. If you stay hidden forever, they'll never trust you."
Riven arched an eyebrow, his expression unreadable, but I thought I saw the flicker of nerves in his eyes. "And you're sure this is smart?"
"No," I admitted, lips tugging into a wry smile. "But it's necessary."
Hunter huffed as if in agreement, nuzzling his nose against Riven's hand. That tiny, almost domestic gesture steadied me. We left the room together, my heart beating far too fast for something as simple as walking to breakfast. Eleanor had probably told everyone about Riven, but she most likely kept majority of the informations to us. But as soon as I opened the door, Dwight and Harriet stood there, waiting. Their faces weren't hostile, exactly, but both of them had that guarded look—the kind that made me feel like they'd been standing there long enough to overhear more than I'd like.
"What happened?" I asked, trying to keep my voice casual.
Dwight's eyes softened at me for a second, then flicked toward Riven. "After we left your room last night, Ryan pulled me aside," he said. "He already knew about what we found. He said you told him nothing, but Harriet and I weren't exactly subtle when we came back with you. He pieced it together."
My stomach dropped. "And?"
Dwight's jaw tightened. "And he made it clear we're skating on thin ice. He said if Harriet hadn't been injured, if Eleanor hadn't stepped in—" He broke off, shaking his head. "We wouldn't even be having this conversation."
I glanced at Harriet, who stood straighter. She didn't say anything, but the faintest nod passed between us.
I let out a breath and gestured toward Riven. "Then there's no point in hiding anymore."
Dwight blinked, his brows knitting. "You mean—"
"Yeah," I said, before I could lose the nerve. "I'm introducing him to them."
I moved past Dwight and dragged Riven to where the gifted beings were gathering.
The walk from my room to the dining hall felt like the longest of my life. My palms were damp, and every step beside Riven made the knot in my stomach tighten. I could feel his unease too—his shoulders stiff, his eyes skimming the unfamiliar corridors like he expected someone to jump out at him. By the time we reached the big oak doors that opened into the dining hall, the sound of voices inside had swelled into something heavier. Laughter, overlapping chatter, the scrape of plates. The kind of warmth that had always felt complicated for me. It pressed down on me like a weight, because I knew the second I stepped through with Riven, every head in the room would turn. And they did.
The conversations cut short, just like I'd feared. Forks hovered above plates, and half-chewed bites stayed frozen behind closed mouths. A hundred eyes on us—or maybe it was only more than four dozens, but it felt like the whole world. And throat dried out instantly. For a second, I wanted to retreat, shove Riven back toward the stairs, pretend this hadn't been my idea. But his quiet presence at my side—Hunter brushing against my knee, Sebastian perched calmly on his shoulder—grounded me. This wasn't about me. This was about him finally being seen.
I cleared my throat. "Um." The sound cracked embarrassingly in the silence. My face flushed hot, but I forced myself to go on.
"Hi everyone."
Still, everyone was silent.
"Who is he?" a gifted asked. I looked at Riven and he was shy.
"His name is Riven, everyone. Riven Hyeon," I said, steadying my voice, even if the air in my lungs felt too thin.
I paused, glancing at him, and then back at them. "He's fought beside me. He's protected me. And he knows what we're up against out there." My hands trembled, so I clasped them together.
The silence stretched, heavy as stone.
Eleanor was the first to soften, her eyes kind but cautious as they flicked between Riven and me. Ryan's expression, however, stayed unreadable—stone carved into flesh. He leaned back slightly in his chair, watching.
Miss Byrd pursed her lips. "A human?" she murmured. Not a question exactly. More like a warning hanging in the air.
Riven shifted awkwardly beside me, scratching the back of his neck. "Uh… yeah. Human. Last time I checked," he said, forcing a crooked half-smile that somehow made the tension sharper.
One of Lucinda's twins—Coreleos, or Cornelius, whatever his name was—leaned forward, whispering far too loudly to his brother, "But why's he here? He doesn't glow or float or… do anything." Augustus elbowed him, eyes wide with the silent plea of 'Shut up before Mom hears.'
Lucinda then hushed both boys.
Dwight cleared his throat from across the table. "Alice," he said, slowly, "you're sure about this?" His voice wasn't cruel, but there was steel in it. He was already building the walls of caution in his head.
"Yeah," I said firmly, surprising even myself. "I wouldn't have brought him here if I wasn't."
Sebastian, still perched on Riven's shoulder, let out a low hoot, as if seconding my words. That drew a few skeptical glances. Silence stretched for a while and I was all out of words until Harriet, who had been silent the entire time, finally spoke. "Can you guys at least be a little warmer to greet him? You all look tense."
Her words cut through the tension sharper than I could have. A few heads turned toward her in surprise; Harriet rarely vouched for anyone.
Riven glanced her way, caught off guard. "Uh… thanks, I guess," he muttered, eyes darting down to Hunter at his feet. The dog, oblivious to the tension, gave a cheerful wag of his tail and thumped it against the floor.
Dr. Crowe tapped the side of his fork against his plate thoughtfully. "A soldier without a gift," he mused aloud, peering at Riven with the kind of gaze that felt both clinical and intrusive. "But perhaps that makes you valuable in a different way. Less… volatile."
"That's one word for me," Riven said dryly, his crooked smile returning for a second before fading.
The whispers started then. A few of the younger gifted whispered into each other's ears. One girl with shimmering fingers leaned close to her friend, her eyes darting at Riven like he was a puzzle piece shoved into the wrong box. I caught the shift, and my chest tightened. This was exactly what I'd feared—that no matter what I said, no matter how much I vouched for him, they'd only see the ways he was different.
Murmurs rippled across the table. Some curious. Some doubtful. Some openly suspicious.
I saw Lucy's eyes widen slightly. Morgan blinked at Riven as though trying to remeber where he saw him. And probably, he remembered Riven when he caught us a few days back.
"He's not gifted like us, you guys," Dwight added after a beat. "But like what Harriet said, can you at least be kind enough to welcome him?"
That got more murmurs. A few children leaned forward, eyes wide at the mention of "him," though none dared say the name. Harriet stepped in next. "Alice was right. He's proven himself. He saved us." Her eyes flicked briefly toward me, then away. "That should mean something."
The room quieted again. The gifted looked from one another to me, then to Riven, as if waiting for him to prove Harriet's words true. He didn't make a speech. He didn't even flinch under the weight of their stares. He just stood there, steady, a hand resting lightly on Hunter's head. And slowly, unbelievably, I saw the suspicion in a few of their faces shift—softening, if only slightly.
Miss Byrd finally lowered her ladle, eyes narrowing as though she could peel away his soul just by looking. Then she sighed and gestured toward the table.
"Sit. If you're here, you eat."
The tension broke like a string snapping. Conversations picked back up in cautious fragments.
Riven glanced at me. I managed a small smile, my chest still tight, but lighter than before.
One step at a time. At least this was a start.
***
The following afternoon, the air outside felt different. It wasn't stormy or restless—it was almost too calm, like the silence before a bell tolls. The garden smelled faintly of damp earth, and the younger gifted were still laughing from their sparring drills. I lingered by the steps, brushing dirt from my palms, when Ryan clapped his hands once, drawing everyone's attention.
"Everyone, gather up," he said, voice steady but carrying something heavier beneath. His tone wasn't sharp like it often was in training, nor detached the way it could be when he was hiding too much. No, this was softer, as if he'd chosen his words long before this moment. "Outside. In front of the house."
Confused murmurs broke out, but the gifted followed his lead. Even Harriet, who rarely moved without a flicker of suspicion in her eyes, obeyed. I fell into step beside Dwight, who shrugged at me as if to say don't look at me—I have no idea either.
Ryan waited until we were all assembled under the fading light of afternoon. The home loomed behind us, its shutters catching the sun in fractured gold. Dr. Crowe emerged with the old vintage camera, setting it up on its tripod, while Eleanor helped gather stragglers—Cornelius tugging Augustus into line, Lucy pulling her hair straight.
Ryan stepped forward then, and his eyes swept across us in a slow, deliberate way. Not just counting heads. Seeing. Memorizing.
"We're taking a photograph," he announced at last. A ripple of surprise passed through the group. He let it settle before adding, "I want a record. A moment preserved. Something to hold onto if—" He stopped himself, jaw tightening. Then he exhaled and started again. "If things ever change."
Nobody spoke. The air seemed to draw inward, all our breathing caught in the same pocket of silence.
"Life here isn't perfect," Ryan continued, his hands clasped behind his back. "You all know that better than anyone. We live under rules. We fight with one another. We wonder what's outside the gates." His gaze flicked—just for a heartbeat—toward me, then toward Harriet. "But still, we're a family. Maybe not the one you wanted. Maybe not the one you dreamed of. But the one we have."
His words tugged something inside me. The kind of weight that pressed into the chest and didn't let go.
Ryan's eyes hardened, though not unkindly. "I don't know what tomorrow looks like," he said quietly. "None of us do. But I do know this: no matter what comes—whether it's peace or storm—this moment will stay. For us."
I glanced at Riven beside me. His jaw was set, but there was something in his eyes—something unguarded, like he hadn't been expecting to be part of this us at all. Sebastian shifted his wings on his shoulder, feathers rustling faintly, and Hunter pressed against his boot as if sensing the gravity of the moment.
Ryan gestured toward the camera. "Let's make it quick. Before the light fades."
We shuffled into position. Dwight and Harriet ended up near the front, close enough that their shoulders brushed. Eleanor clasped Morgan's hand, guiding him into the center. I stood slightly off to the side until Riven hesitated near the edge, unsure of where to place himself. Without thinking, I reached for his arm and tugged him gently closer—into the frame, into the family.
His eyes flicked toward me, startled, but he didn't resist.
Dr. Crowe fussed with the timer, muttering about how the old mechanism stuck. Ryan stayed upright and straight-backed in the center. Miss Byrd smoothed her skirt, trying to mask the emotion in her face. When the timer finally ticked down, we all held still. And as the shutter clicked, I couldn't help the thought that crept in uninvited: maybe Ryan was right to want this. Because one day, when the Others finally found their way to our door, when all of this broke apart, maybe a photograph would be all we'd have left of the moment we were whole.
The shutter snapped again, its echo swallowed by the quiet yard.
When the click of the camera echoed like a stamp of finality, when Doctor Crowe announced that the photo has been taken, everyone then scattered, uneasy smiles dissolving into whispers and shuffling feet. I stayed still, arms folded, pretending to study the tree line when in truth I was watching.
Dr. Crowe busied himself with the camera, fussing with its case like he hadn't noticed the unease rippling through the group, though his rigid shoulders betrayed him. And Riven—he hadn't moved. Still by the edge of the gathering, shoes dug into the dirt as if he wasn't sure whether to step forward or back. Sebastian perched still on his shoulder, feathers sleek against the last gold of daylight, while Hunter leaned against his leg with the loyalty only a dog could give. If anyone else had been looking, they might have seen the picture for what it was: a boy caught between belonging and exile, tethered to this place not by permission, but by the creatures that trusted him.
He caught me watching and gave me a faint, uncertain smile. It almost asked 'Do you think I belong here at all?' And the answer burned at the back of my throat: yes. Especially here.
Ryan's voice cut through before I could move.
"Wait."
The word was soft, not sharp like before, but it stopped us all the same. Our heads turned.
He looked at me first. For a moment, he seemed smaller—human, almost fragile in a way that made my chest ache.
"I owe you something Alice," Ryan said, his voice low but steady. His gaze didn't waver. "I doubted you. I accused you of recklessness, of poor judgment. And I see now that I was wrong. Eleanor was right that you trusted someone, and I didn't trust you."
My mouth opened, but nothing came out. The admission, so plain and unexpected, knocked the wind from me.
Then Ryan's eyes shifted, pinning Riven. The yard seemed to hold its breath.
"And you," he said, voice deepening with weight. "From the moment you stepped into this place, I treated you as a danger. I questioned your every move. But I was blind to what was right in front of me—that you've risked yourself time and again, not for gain, not for pride, but for her. For Alice. For all of us."
Ryan exhaled, shoulders easing slightly. "I owe you an apology too. What you deserve… is acknowledgment. And trust. At least I could have given you the benefit of the doubt earlier, but maybe I was too afraid the residents here would be in danger."
The silence that followed was louder than shouting. Even the younger gifted, usually restless, stilled.
Ryan's jaw tightened, then he let out a breath. "I owe you an apology. I should have recognized your courage sooner."
Riven looked stunned, like the words didn't quite belong in the air. His mouth opened, closed, then stayed shut. For once, the boy who always had a quick retort had nothing. His silence said more than anything he could have managed.
Ryan stepped closer. Not towering, not threatening—simply present. He extended his hand. "If you'll accept it, I'd like you to stay here. Not as an outsider. As one of us."
The words rang through the yard. Riven stared at the hand like it might vanish if he reached for it. His eyes flicked to me for a heartbeat, searching, as though he needed permission. I gave the smallest nod. Slowly—hesitantly—he extended his hand. Their palms met. For the first time, it didn't look like a test. It looked like a promise.
Hunter barked once. A few of the younger gifted smiled nervously, their curiosity softening.
Ryan gave a final nod. "Welcome to Willowmere, Riven."
Riven's voice came rough, almost hoarse. "Thank you."
I let out the breath I hadn't realized I was holding. And for the first time since I'd found him beneath the willow tree, I didn't see Riven as standing on the outside looking in. He was here. With us. And maybe that was the beginning of something I didn't dare name yet.