Present Day
Keal's voice was softer now as he spoke to Kyra, the weight of the memory heavy on his heart.
"Lorian didn't hate me," he said, his gaze distant. "He only wanted to protect me. He thought… he thought that love would break me, just like it did our father."
Kyra stepped closer to him, sensing the turmoil beneath his calm. She didn't know how to respond—how to fix what was broken in him. His words lingered in the air, unspoken truths that filled the space between them.
"It's hard for him to understand," Keal continued, his voice strained. "Lorian's strength comes from a place of survival. He thinks that, because our father loved a human, that love was a weakness. And that's what he fears most about me—fearing that I'll become like him."
He paused, the flicker of his memories flickering through his eyes like a shadow. He had never spoken about Lorian like this before—not to anyone, not even to himself.
"But he doesn't understand. It's not weakness that love brings. It's what makes us stronger. What makes us human."
Kyra looked up at him, her heart aching for him. She could see the pain that had lived with him for centuries, a scar buried deep beneath his calm exterior. The burden of his brother's love and protection, the weight of their father's legacy—it was all there, in his words, in the haunted look in his eyes.
"I want to protect you, Kyra," Keal whispered, his voice low and urgent. "But I can't lose you the way I lost everything else. And I'm afraid, so afraid, that loving you will do the same thing to me it did to him."
The air between them grew thick with the tension of unspoken fears, of histories that stretched far beyond them. But in that moment, with her hand gently touching his, Kyra realized that they were no longer just echoes of the past. They were here, in the present, facing a future that neither of them could predict.
But Keal was right about one thing—love was never a weakness. Not for him. Not for her.
And no matter the cost, she would stand by him.
The silence between them stretched, and for a moment, the weight of their history seemed to consume everything. Keal's words had revealed more than he intended, but Kyra knew he needed to say them. She could feel the cracks in him, the fear of love's destructive power that had shaped him for centuries. But she also saw the strength in him—the strength that had kept him fighting, even when the world around him had fallen apart.
"Keal," she whispered, her voice breaking through the stillness. "You won't lose me. Not like that."
His gaze locked onto hers, his eyes fierce and vulnerable at the same time. "You don't understand," he said, his voice filled with a quiet desperation. "Lorian was right about one thing: love makes us weak. It can tear us apart. And I can't let that happen to you. Not to us."
Kyra's heart raced. She stepped forward, closing the space between them, the energy between them crackling. "But I don't fear love, Keal. I've seen how it can destroy, yes—but I've also seen how it can heal."
She paused, searching his eyes. "I love you, and that makes me stronger. It makes me want to fight, for us. For everything we have. You don't have to face this alone."
Keal swallowed hard, his emotions roiling beneath his calm exterior. "And what if my fear is right? What if we can't fight this? What if I lose you to the very thing I'm trying to protect you from?"
Before Kyra could answer, a sudden noise broke through the quiet—loud, insistent, and unmistakable.
The door to the room slammed open, and Lorian stepped into the dimly lit space, his expression unreadable. His eyes flicked between the two of them, a flash of something—resentment?—flickering in his gaze before he schooled it back into indifference.
"Keal," Lorian's voice was cool, though there was an unmistakable undercurrent of tension in it. "You've made a choice. And so have I."
Keal stiffened, his protective instincts flaring. "Lorian, not now."
But Lorian wasn't listening. He stepped forward, his eyes never leaving Kyra, as if he were weighing her very existence. "You can't protect her, Keal. Not from what's coming. Not from me."
Kyra's pulse quickened, a sense of impending danger crawling under her skin. She took a step back, instinctively moving toward Keal.
"What are you talking about?" Keal demanded, his fists clenched at his sides. "What do you want, Lorian?"
Lorian's lips curled into a grim smile. "You may think you're in control, brother. But you're not. None of us are. The Council won't stop until they have what they want. And Kyra…" His gaze flickered to her, calculating, dangerous. "She's the key."
Keal's breath caught. "I won't let them touch her."
"You don't have a choice." Lorian's voice was low and deliberate, a warning in his tone. "And neither does she."
The room seemed to close in on Kyra, the weight of Lorian's words pressing against her chest. She felt trapped, her heart pounding in her ears. Keal had never seemed more distant from her than in this moment, caught between the brother he feared and the woman he loved.
Lorian's gaze softened, just for a moment, before his mask returned. "You'll have to choose soon, Keal. This world doesn't bend for love. It devours it. And when it comes for Kyra, you'll have to decide if you'll save her—or let her become another casualty of our family's curse."
Keal's jaw tightened. "I'll never let that happen."
But Lorian was already turning, heading toward the door. "We'll see."
And with that, he was gone—leaving behind a chilling silence and the heavy weight of uncertainty.
The room seemed to collapse in on Kyra and Keal, the tension palpable in the air. Keal was no longer the calm, protective figure she had known. In that moment, he was a man on the brink of losing everything. And Lorian's words echoed in her mind: "You'll have to choose soon."
Keal turned to face her, but the expression in his eyes was no longer just fear. It was determination. "I won't let him win. I'll protect you, Kyra. No matter the cost."
Kyra stepped forward, her heart aching for him, for them. "Then we fight, Keal. Together."