Chapter Eight Two: Issues
The woods were quiet, damp with the smell of thawing earth and early spring rains. Kael stood alone with Umbra at his side, the wolf's golden eyes glinting faintly in the shadows. His breath steamed in the cool morning air as he stretched out his hands, the dark strands of chaos magic writhing between his fingers like threads spun from nightmares and fire.
This was no ordinary training. He had mastered weapons, beasts, even entire landscapes pulled from imagination. Today, he sought something different — something dangerously close to the edge of what his power should be used for.
Demihuman cloning.
He closed his eyes and let the chaos energy pool inside him, shaping, molding, envisioning form and movement. Yet his focus wavered, his mind not entirely on the discipline of creation.
Instead, his thoughts drifted back — back to the night before.
Lyria's smirk.
Druaka's bold, fiery grin.
The way the two of them had circled him like predators, teasing, goading, daring him to break.
The memory sent heat creeping up his neck. He gritted his teeth, trying to banish it, but chaos magic did not obey distraction. It absorbed it. It fed on what was in his heart.
The shadows coalesced, the air shimmering as energy cracked. Slowly, a figure began to step from the haze of chaos-born flame.
Broad shoulders, sculpted muscle that carried both elegance and brutality. Bronze-toned skin with a faint natural glow, strong but not coarse. Her hair, long and black with faint streaks of red at the tips, tumbled down her back in waves, shimmering as if the chaos itself had burnished each strand.
Her face was unmistakable. Sharp cheekbones, strong jaw, eyes like molten gold edged in crimson — fierce yet carrying an undercurrent of sorrow. A beauty that commanded attention not through delicacy, but through undeniable presence.
She was tall, nearly Kael's height, her frame a perfect blend of strength and grace. The weight of a warrior's body was there — powerful arms, thighs that could drive spears through shields, scars etched faintly along her arms and side, remnants of wars fought and survived. Yet despite the hardness, there was elegance in the way she moved, as if the chaos magic itself revered her.
The resemblance to Druaka was so perfect it unsettled him.
Kael staggered back, chest tight, a bead of sweat running down his brow. Umbra growled low, hackles raised, sensing his master's tension.
The clone stood, silent, waiting for command, her golden gaze fixed on him with something too close to life for comfort.
Kael turned away, running a hand over his face, heart pounding. Why Druaka? Why not anyone else?
The answer burned in his chest, shameful in its clarity. Because Druaka had lodged herself in his mind, not just as a warrior or an ally, but as a woman.
He thought of Lyria — their first night together, how spontaneous it had been, born from fear and tenderness, from unspoken longing. She had been his anchor, his shield, the one who looked past his shadows to see the boy beneath.
And now Druaka. Fierce, scarred, beautiful. A survivor, who met him as an equal in strength and resilience. She stirred something different — raw, unyielding, primal.
Kael clenched his fists. His stomach twisted with conflict. It wasn't betrayal — he loved Lyria. But Druaka lingered in his thoughts like a storm on the horizon, impossible to ignore.
"What the hell am I doing?" he muttered, staring at the clone before snapping his hand closed. The chaos figure dissolved into smoke, vanishing as quickly as it had appeared.
Silence. Only the creak of branches and the whisper of wind.
Kael dropped to one knee, gripping his hair, breathing hard. Umbra pressed his muzzle against Kael's shoulder, offering quiet comfort.
It wasn't the magic that scared him. It was what it revealed — the truths in his heart he wasn't ready to admit.
His jaw tightened, and suddenly, a guttural roar tore from his throat.
It wasn't words. Just pure, raw frustration.
The sound ripped through the forest, scattering birds into the sky, echoing far beyond the trees.
When it finally left him, Kael collapsed against a trunk, chest heaving, staring at his shaking hands.
The truth was simple. The issue wasn't an issue. But gods, it felt like one.
And it was eating him alive.
The forest was still humming with the echo of Kael's roar when he heard the faint crunch of footsteps in the snow. Umbra's ears pricked, the wolf low to the ground, but Kael already knew who it was.
"Kael," Lyria's voice came first, soft but unyielding, as if she were calling him back from the brink.
Druaka followed a step behind, her golden eyes bright even in the gloom of the trees. She looked as if she'd tracked him with ease, a predator closing in on prey.
Kael stayed where he was, back against the trunk, sweat cooling on his brow, still raw from venting his frustration. He didn't even look up at them as they stopped a few paces away.
"You've been out here too long," Lyria said gently, crouching so her eyes were level with his. "What's eating you?"
Kael let out a low laugh, but it was humorless. "You know what's eating me. Both of you do."
Druaka crossed her arms, looming over him, her voice blunt as ever. "This about the teasing?"
Kael's jaw tightened, and for once he didn't hide behind leadership or pride. He looked between the two of them, the weight of his words dragging from his chest.
"Since I was with you first," he said, his eyes on Lyria, "it feels like betrayal. Like I'm failing you. But—" he turned toward Druaka, voice heavy with truth, "—I can't help but admit she's won a part of my heart too."
The forest went still. For a heartbeat, Kael thought he'd ruined everything. His confession hung in the air like a blade ready to fall.
And then Lyria snorted. Not delicately, not politely — a sharp, surprised snort of laughter.
Druaka blinked at her, then threw her head back and laughed too, her booming voice shaking the branches overhead.
Kael froze, blinking in confusion. "What the hell is so funny?"
"You," Lyria gasped through her laughter, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye. "You think we didn't know? That all this time you've been brooding like the world is ending — over something we already worked out?"
Druaka grinned wide, her tusks showing as she clapped him on the shoulder hard enough to jolt him forward. "The teasing wasn't just to watch you squirm, though that's a bonus. It was our way of saying we're not at odds anymore. That we don't care about competing. We just… want this. All of us."
Kael's mouth opened, then closed again. For the first time in a long time, he was completely speechless.
Lyria leaned closer, her hand brushing his cheek. "We're happy, Kael. Happy to be together. Not just you with me, or you with her — but us. Do you understand?"
He stared at them both, his chest tight. His hands clenched at his knees, the tension of weeks, maybe months, coiled inside him. Slowly, he exhaled, shaking his head with disbelief.
"You two," he muttered, "have been driving me insane."
"That was the point," Druaka smirked. "Worked, didn't it?"
Kael groaned, burying his face in his hands. But beneath the groan was something else — relief. A crushing, impossible relief that made him feel like he could breathe again.
The three of them sat together under the trees, the air filled with the sound of their laughter. For the first time, the weight on Kael's shoulders didn't feel so heavy.
Whatever battles lay ahead, whatever dangers the world would throw at them — at least here, at least now, they were whole.