Page 65 of On Burning Paths

"When I was a boy," Thorian starts, grinding out the words as though he's pulled them up from somewhere deep inside. And once they come, they pour. "Valtor killed my mother. It was my sixteenth birthday, which was the deadline Valtor had set for when I would need to show special abilities. He'd always believed that I would be the strongest of his demi-children, and so my mother and I lived in extreme wealth. The finest house, showered in riches. But by thirteen I had not developed magic of any kind. I had no dominion over the sky, earth, or sea, like him. I trained every day. I tried to drown myself, threw myself from cliffs, tried to force myself into a situation in which the only way to survive would be some sort of gift."

He pauses, and I realize I've stopped breathing. I take a quiet breath, holding as still as possible.

"But nothing manifested. I did not ascend into minor godhood, as he predicted. And so he killed my mother, declaring that since I had disappointed him, he would disappoint me, as well. Since that day, I've made it my mission to kill Valtor."

I can't help it. I suck in a breath. He wants to kill a god? His father?

"Thorian," I say carefully. "If you go up against him, you won't win."

His jaw tightens. "If I become a god⁠—"

"He'll still be stronger," I say. "You know that. He's a major god, you’d only be a minor one. The power he has, the knowledge of how to use it. You'd be walking into that fight at a disadvantage no amount of winning this competition will fully close."

"And even if you could," Fenric says, his voice uncharacteristically quiet, "the other gods would come for you. That's what they do. Anyone who kills one of their own becomes a target for all of them. You'd be trading one enemy for every god in existence."

Talon, who has been still and silent, speaks without looking up. "And if any of them learned what you feel for Nyx," he says, "she would never be safe. Not for the rest of her life. She'd be the thing they'd use to get to you."

The silence that follows is heavy.

I move to stand beside Thorian, and when I speak, I try to put everything I mean into it. "Killing Valtor will not bring your mother back. I know what it is to want that. To want someone to pay for what was taken from you. Valtor cursed my family when my mother refused to lay with him and destroyed my family, took my parents from me, left Lyra and I with nothing. I understand the anger. I understand the pain of it." I pause. "But the best revenge you can give him is to live. To be happy. To build something so good and full that his cruelty becomes the smallest footnote in the story of your life."

Thorian stares at the floor of the cave for a long time.

I watch him change, not quickly, not easily, but steadily. It’s the slow release of a burden he's carried for so long it has shaped how he holds himself and moves through the world, influencing every choice he's made since he was sixteen years old.

When he finally looks up, his eyes move first to me, then to Fenric, then to Talon.

"Then I need a different goal," he says.

It isn't an ending. It's the beginning of a future he's only just allowing himself to imagine. But it's enough. For now, it's enough.

There's a beat of silence, and Talon sighs. "Well. If we're sharing. I better share my story. Not because I feel it’s particularly interesting, but because I’d rather there were no secrets between us."

He leans back, and his posture relaxes, the easy confidence giving way to a quieter thoughtfulness.

"My father was a lord. A powerful one, with lands and titles that went back generations. Our house was one of the oldest in the territories. My parents adopted me as young child, as with most vampires, choosing to raise me as a human until I reached the age of manhood, where they’d turn me, which they did. Life was good. Perfect. Everything anyone could ever ask for." He pauses. "But my father, as it turns out, had politics that put him on the wrong side of the gods. When they discovered what he'd been involved in, they declared the entire family traitors. Our titles were stripped. Our lands were seized. And my family was sentenced to execution."

The cave is very quiet.

"I was a young man. People who had been loyal to my parents, who loved them, got me out before the sentence was carried out." His jaw works. "I changed my name. Hid what I was, who I was, where I came from. Built an entirely different life out of nothing, because nothing was what I had." He glances up briefly, then away. "I've been no one for a long time."

"And the Trials?" Fenric asks.

"This is the only path back," Talon says simply. "The only way to earn enough standing to reclaim what was taken. To become someone of worth again." He's quiet for a moment. "It's the only chance I'll ever get."

I look at him, this man who teases and deflects and laughs at everything, and understand for the first time how much work that has taken. He’s erased himself, not that the gods would ever remember one solitary human whose life they destroyed, but now he still had to become someone new. Someone he wants to be.

“Gods,” Fenric mutters, shaking his head, and I wait for some comment on the two stories. Instead, the berserker says, “So all of you were richer than me.”

I can’t help it. I laugh before I can stop it, clapping my hands over my mouth. Talon smirks, and Thorian raises an eyebrow.

“I finally share with you,” Thorian says, amused, “and you laugh?”

“No, I’m sorry,” I laugh harder, shaking my head, “It’s just that… I wasn’t expecting⁠—”

“Her empathy only extends so far,” Talon says, frowning. “It’s a shame for us, Rian.”

“Don’t call me that⁠—”