Chapter 239: Opening the Heart
The Hollow thrummed with its usual life. Children darted through the markets, smiths sang their rhythm on anvils, and the wind carried the scents of fresh bread and burning forge-fire. Kael had walked through all of it with Azhara at his side during the day—sparring, laughing, and talking in the shade of the woods until dusk.
But when night came, and he stepped into the chamber he shared with Lyria, he felt the weight of a silence far heavier than any blade.
Lyria sat near the window, moonlight sketching her profile in sharp silver lines. She didn't turn as Kael entered, but he felt her gaze settle on him all the same.
"You've been with her again," she said softly, no edge in her tone, only quiet observation.
Kael didn't deny it. He set his sword carefully against the wall, then leaned against the table, arms crossed. "Training. Talking. She's learning quickly."
Lyria's eyes slid toward him, the faintest crease forming between her brows. "It's more than that. I see the way you look at her. The way she looks at you."
Kael held her gaze, unflinching. For once, he didn't try to cut the truth short. "There is a bond. Stronger than I expected. But…" His words faltered, heavy with thought. "…but it doesn't change how I feel about you."
Lyria finally rose, walking toward him, each step deliberate. "I know it doesn't. But it changes us, doesn't it?"
He blinked at her, unsure of her meaning.
She stopped just before him, her hand brushing against his wrist. "Kael, when I saw you and Azhara together, I felt something strange. Not only jealousy. Not only fear of losing you. It was something else… something like recognition."
Kael frowned slightly, searching her face. "Recognition?"
"Yes," she whispered. "Because haven't I done the same? Haven't I tried to guard you, to keep you close, to love you fiercely? And when I see her now, I realize she's trying to do the same. Not to take you away, but to stand with you."
Kael's jaw tightened, his heart beating heavy in his chest. "You're saying—"
"I'm saying," Lyria interrupted gently, laying her hand against his chest, "that maybe… maybe we've both been too narrow in how we think of love. Maybe we've been afraid to open our hearts again after so much loss. But what if we tried?"
Her words struck him harder than any blade. He stared at her, the memory of Druaka's death, of blood and ash, of everything he'd fought for flashing behind his eyes. For years, his love had been sharpened into a weapon of protection, narrowed to one woman he'd vowed never to lose. And yet now, Lyria was asking him to imagine something else—not losing, but growing.
"You'd want that?" Kael asked at last, his voice low, uncertain. "To bring someone else into… us?"
Lyria's eyes softened, the green depths shimmering like forest light. "I'd want honesty. I'd want to know that whatever bonds we form, we form them together. And if that bond includes her…" she paused, her breath unsteady, "then maybe I'm willing to see what it could be."
Kael swallowed hard, caught between disbelief and the quiet, dangerous hope that her words stirred. "Lyria… do you understand what you're saying?"
Her lips curved into the faintest smile, though her eyes glistened with emotion. "That love doesn't always mean closing the door. Sometimes it means opening it wider. You taught me to be brave, Kael. So let's be brave together."
Kael's chest felt as though it might split open. Slowly, he reached for her, pulling her into his arms. She leaned against him without resistance, her head against his chest, his heartbeat pounding in her ear.
For a long while, neither spoke. Then Kael whispered, his voice raw: "If this is the path we walk… then we walk it hand in hand. Always."
"Always," Lyria echoed.
Outside, the Hollow buzzed with life, the sounds of laughter and hammers and wind in the trees. But in that chamber, Kael and Lyria stood at the cusp of something new—not the end of what they were, but the possibility of what they could become. A love no longer bound by fear, but strengthened by the courage to open their hearts.