He swallows once, almost imperceptible, steeling himself against the truth he’s kept from me all these years.
“One night, while your father was away, Magicks broke into their home. When he returned, Valarie and Orren were gone. No bodies. No traces. Just… gone.” His voice breaks. “That’s why he hid your power. Why he never let you near water. He was terrified it would awaken something he couldn’t protect you from.”
I can’t speak. Can’t breathe.
Gavrail continues, softer now. “Thalriens have been hunted for centuries for what they believed. For the kind of power you hold. Your father saw it in you. He lived every day worried he’d come home to find you gone too.” He pauses then, searching my eyes. “I found out he was a Thalrien about a year or two after we met. My father knew. I overheard him talking late one night—I was practicing my shadow magick, hiding in his office.”
A flash of regret crosses his face before he starts again.
“The night I learned we were moving, I ran to your house. I was going to tell you everything, say goodbye, but your dad was in the garden.” His look is hesitant, laced with ghosts and the truth of our past. “He said he was glad my family was leaving… but that he’d miss me. He said he knew I was a good kid—and maybe I’d grow into a better man than the one who raised me.” He exhales. “As I turned to head upstairs to you, he said, ‘I know.’ I looked back. He was staring at me. He said he knew about the lake. About the shadows. About you discovering your magick.”
He meets my eyes again.
“He told me he trusted me to keep your secret. To keep yousafe. And he made me promise never to contact you again.” He almost chokes on the words. “I gave him my word. Even though it broke me. Even though I knew it might break you too.”
Tears fall freely down my cheeks now, silent and burning. Images crash into me, one after another, everything unraveling.Fragments of memories, dragged from the shadows of my mind.
My father’s voice. His hands guiding mine away from the lake.
Whispered warnings. Locked drawers. The faint blue crest hidden in velvet, shaped like a mermaid.
Gavrail’s eyes the night he left me. Gavrail and me. Noa.
Water that always seemed to know me better than I knew myself—guiding me, pulling me, hiding me.
It was always there. Waiting.
And I never saw it.
Water remembers.
My ribs feel too tight. My skin too thin. Like the room has shrunk around me and the air has turned to glass, jagged and sharp, slicing through me with each inhale.
The weight of it all—secrets, lies, love, loss—presses down on my chest like a tide I can’t outrun.
My hands tremble. I can’t breathe.
“I… I need a moment,” I whisper. The words are barely mine.
Noa takes a step forward, reaching for me, but I step back, flinching like his touch might burn.
“No, please. Just… I need some time to think.”
Panic floods me—fast, bright, and blinding.
I grab my coat and bag with shaking hands and bolt for the door. The scent of Noa’s cologne clings to the collar of my jacket. I want to breathe in the familiarity of it. I want to remember it.
But all I feel is the salt on my lips. The burn in my throat.
The cold night air hitting my skin as I run.
I don’t look back.
Revelations crash over me, heavy and relentless. Every breath is a battle.
Everything feels like it’s unraveling—my past, my present, my power, the people I thought I could trust.
And worst of all… I asked for this. I opened the door.
