Chapter 220 – Cracks in the Bond
The Hollow lay in stillness under a quilt of pale snow, torchlight throwing long shadows across the wooden walls and stone paths. From within homes came the muffled sounds of laughter and crackling fires, but outside, Kael walked alone, weighed down by the silence between himself and Lyria.
He had faced daemon lords, ancient beasts, and the judgment of gods, but nothing compared to the chasm that had opened between him and her. The council chamber had left its scars—her fury, his defiance. Words too sharp to take back.
He found her outside their quarters, seated on the steps, bow across her lap, hands clenched around it as though it were the only thing keeping her still. Her silver hair glowed faintly in the torchlight, her eyes fixed on the dark woods beyond the Hollow's walls.
"Lyria," Kael said softly, his voice uncertain.
She didn't move. "You shouldn't be here."
But he sat anyway, the cold wood biting through his cloak. "I couldn't leave it like this. Not between us."
Finally, she turned her head. The firelight reflected in her silver eyes, but what he saw there wasn't calm, wasn't reason—it was fury.
"You think you can walk back from what you did?" she asked, her voice sharp as a drawn blade. "From what you chose to do without me?"
Kael swallowed. "I thought I was protecting you. I thought you were—"
"Stronger?" she snapped. "Rational? Untouched by anger?"
"Yes," Kael admitted, voice raw. "Stronger than me in ways I can't be."
That was when she stood, swift as lightning, her bow in her hand. Before Kael could react, an arrow was drawn and notched, the bowstring taut, the razor tip pressed against the hollow of his throat.
Kael froze. The torchlight gleamed along the arrowhead. He could feel its deadly sharpness biting against his skin, the faintest pressure enough to draw blood.
Her voice was fire, shaking with fury. "Do you think I don't feel? That I sit in calm silence because I don't have rage boiling in me? That I'm above it all? That I am untouched by what you've done?" Her hand trembled, but the bow never wavered.
Kael stared into her eyes, and for the first time in years, he saw not his anchor, not the calm that steadied him—but a storm.
"I am furious, Kael!" she screamed, her voice breaking the still night. "Furious at what you did! Furious at what you chose! Furious that you left me behind!" The arrow pressed harder against his neck. His pulse beat against it, each throb reminding him that if she wanted to, she could end him right here.
"I wanted to spare you," he said, his voice low, unflinching even with death so close. "I wanted you untouched by the blood I knew I had to spill."
Lyria's laugh was sharp and bitter. "Spare me? You arrogant fool. Do you think I need sparing? That I am fragile?" She pressed the arrow harder, just enough that a bead of crimson slid down his throat. "I have fought beside you since the beginning. I have stood in fire and shadow with you. And you think you can decide when I fight and when I stay behind?"
Her arms shook now—not from weakness, but from the storm raging within her. Her tears glistened in the torchlight, though her eyes never lost their fire.
Kael's voice cracked, softer now. "I thought I was protecting you from my darkness. I wanted to shield you from the weight I carry. From the cruelty I chose."
"Cruelty?" she spat, tears spilling over. "Do you think I don't feel the weight of it too? Do you think I'm not haunted by the screams, the blood, the choices we've made? Don't you dare pretend you're the only one who suffers for this."
She lowered the bow at last, but only slightly, her chest heaving with ragged breaths. "You don't get to shut me out, Kael. You don't get to go into the dark without me. That choice isn't yours alone. It never was."
The arrow slipped free from his throat, though the sting of blood remained. He reached for her hand, but she tore it away, clutching the bow to her chest.
"What hurts the most," she said, her voice breaking now, "isn't even the cruelty you showed our enemies. It's that you didn't take me with you. That you looked at me, at us, and decided I wasn't part of your choice."
The silence that followed was heavier than stone. Kael's heart thundered in his chest, his hands shaking. He had never feared Lyria—not truly—but tonight, he had seen her strength in a way that unsettled him. She wasn't just his anchor, his calm. She was fury incarnate, a storm barely restrained.
"I'm sorry," he whispered. "Not for striking back at our enemies… but for shutting you out. For leaving you behind. I see now how wrong I was."
Lyria turned away, tears streaking her cheeks. "You are my partner, Kael. My equal. If you ever walk into the darkness again, you take me with you."
Her silver eyes snapped back to his, blazing with command. "Or don't come back at all."
With that, she slung her bow across her shoulder and left him sitting in the snow, the sting of her arrow still burning on his neck.
Kael touched the drop of blood with his fingers, staring into the shadows. For the first time, he understood: Lyria was not simply his balance, his reason. She was his equal in fury, in strength, in rage.
And if he ever forgot that again, it might not be their enemies who put an arrow through his throat—it would be her.