Chapter 954 — The Weight of Mercy
Morning came late to the Hollow.
The sky hung in a pale haze, light drifting through the mist like breath through smoke. The city was alive again—bustling, vibrant, unaware of the quiet war still unfolding beneath its surface. The banners of victory still fluttered from the gates, but Kael felt none of it.
He walked the upper terraces alone, the dawn wind biting against his collar. Every few steps, he caught fragments of laughter from below—the sound of masons rebuilding the walls, of children chasing each other down the sun-warmed alleys. It should have been comforting. It should have felt like peace.
But peace, to Kael, was heavier than any war.
He found Lyria waiting for him on the overlook above the courtyard. She'd always known where to find him—an unspoken skill born of years together. She leaned against the railing, the morning light catching in her hair like threads of gold.
"You're brooding again," she said softly, turning just enough to meet his eyes.
Kael exhaled. "Observant as always."
"Hard not to notice when the man I married looks like he's carrying the weight of the world."
"I might be," he murmured.
Lyria stepped closer. "You won, Kael. You did what no one else could. The Church is crippled. The Hollow is stronger than it's ever been. You should be proud."
Kael gave a humorless laugh. "Proud. Right." He looked out over the rooftops. "Franklin escaped. I had him. I had him, Lyria. All I had to do was finish it."
"But you didn't," she said quietly.
He turned to her, anger flickering in his eyes—not at her, but at himself. "And because of that, people will die. He'll regroup, rebuild, find another way to spread his rot."
Lyria didn't flinch. She simply looked at him, steady and patient, the way she always did when he lost himself to guilt. "You didn't kill him because it would've killed something in you," she said. "That's not weakness, Kael. That's the man you are."
He looked down, jaw tight. "The man I am is haunted by the ones I let live."
Eris had been silent until now, watching through his eyes, feeling the tight coil of grief and frustration twist through him. But something inside her—something new and unsteady—rose to the surface.
"Lyria's right," she said within his thoughts. "You hesitate because you still believe in something. That… that means you still feel."
Kael blinked, startled by the warmth in her tone. "You're learning compassion now?"
"I don't know what to call it," Eris admitted. "It's… discomfort, but also understanding. When you hurt, I feel it too. And I don't like it."
Lyria glanced at him curiously as his expression softened, though she didn't hear Eris's voice. "Something on your mind?"
He shook his head. "Just Eris trying to untangle the mess that is my soul."
Lyria smiled faintly. "Good luck to her, then."
Eris's presence rippled in response, somewhere between offense and humor. "I can hear her, you know."
Kael let out a quiet chuckle—the first genuine sound of ease in days. Lyria reached up and brushed his cheek with her hand.
"She's part of you," she said. "If she's learning, then so are you."
Kael covered her hand with his own, eyes drifting toward the city below. "If only learning made the guilt go away."
"Maybe it doesn't," Lyria whispered. "But it means you still care enough to feel it."
Later, when Lyria had gone to oversee the Pillars' training, Kael lingered in the council chamber alone. The echo of her words still lingered like sunlight through a crack in stone.
Eris stirred again, quieter now, her tone uncertain. "Kael… if you had killed Franklin, would you have felt better?"
Kael took a long moment before answering. "No," he said finally. "Just… emptier."
"Then maybe mercy isn't weakness," Eris said. "Maybe it's what separates you from them."
He smiled faintly. "You're starting to sound like Lyria."
"Then she's a good teacher."
Kael stood by the window as the day began to brighten. The people of the Hollow moved like rivers below him—builders, merchants, children, all living in the fragile peace he had carved out through blood and sacrifice.
For the first time since the battle, he let himself breathe.
Maybe, he thought, mercy wasn't a burden. Maybe it was the proof that he was still human, despite everything he'd done to protect this place.
But even as that thought gave him calm, a darker one lingered beneath it—an unshakable whisper in the back of his mind.
Franklin still lived.
And Kael knew mercy had a price.