Chapter 52: Reunited, But Not Repaired

Chapter 52: Reunited, But Not Repaired Kethra sat beside Lia’s bed, her fingers brushing lightly against the girl’s pale cheek. The room was quiet, save for the faint rustling of curtains as a night breeze slipped through the open balcony. An orb flickered on the bedside table, casting a wavering glow over Lia’s still form. Softly, Kethra began to hum, her voice low and warm, wrapping around the silent room like a gentle embrace. (Sung to the tune of "Pure Imagination" from Willy Wonka, inspired by the lofi version by Sunday Vibes.) Close your eyes, firefly, Don’t ask why the sun is slowly dying. Night will fall, soft and deep, But in dreams, the stars will keep you shining. Her voice wavered slightly, but she kept singing, her thumb absently running along the back of Lia’s hand. It was cold—too cold. But she refused to believe that meant anything. No mother would. Drift away, lost in light, Silver moons will whisper you a story. Let the dark fade to blue, Wrap you up in all its fleeting glory. Don’t be scared, little spark, Close your wings and let the breeze embrace you. Through the night, through the dark, Golden dreams will always find and chase you. Her breath hitched. She swallowed hard and continued. Rest, my love, rest tonight, Let the world fade quiet in the twilight. When you wake, morning’s glow Will be there to paint the sky in firelight. Softly now, don’t you cry, In the dark, the moon will keep you high. Till then, sleep, firefly, Dream away where morning meets the sky. As the last note faded, Kethra’s voice faltered slightly as she ran the back of her hand against Lia’s pale cheek. A soft smile tugged at her lips, though her heart ached. "Wait for us, little firefly," she whispered. She smoothed the blankets over Lia’s still form, making sure the edges were tucked in neatly, as though that small act could shield her from all harm. A creak at the door made her look up. Henndar stood there, watching her. He said nothing at first, just stepped forward, his presence a small comfort her. She hadn’t noticed her hand trembling until he took it, rubbing his thumb against her palm in quiet reassurance. "They found them," he said gently. "Aramith and Mozrael. They’ve just arrived." Her breath caught, a flicker of relief crossing her face. But then, her gaze returned to Lia. The war between joy and grief played out in her eyes. She wanted to go to them—to see her children with her own eyes, to hold them—but leaving Lia like this... Henndar seemed to read the conflict in her silence. "We can have them brought here," he offered gently. She shook her head, her fingers tightening on Lia’s blanket. "No." Her voice was soft but resolute. "Not like this. I won’t let them see her like this." Henndar didn’t argue. Instead, he took her hand, pressing his thumb into her palm, a quiet reassurance. A reminder that she wasn’t alone in this. She turned back to Lia one last time, adjusting the blanket again, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear. Then she leaned down, her lips grazing her daughter’s forehead. "Wait for us, little firefly." The words clung to the air as she straightened. Together, they left the room. The hall felt longer than before. Every step toward the entrance weighed with anticipation, with longing, with the ache of knowing she would soon hold them again. Her heart pounded when they reached the doors, just as they swung open. And there they stood. Mozrael looked smaller somehow, as if the days away had stripped away the brave face she always wore. The moment their eyes met, the little girl in her broke free, and she rushed forward. The queen caught her in a fierce embrace, clutching her tight, feeling the tremble in her body. "My love... my little one..." she murmured, pressing a kiss into her hair. Mozrael sobbed, her tiny hands grasping at the fabric of her mother’s dress as if afraid to let go. "I—I missed you," she choked out. The queen swallowed hard, her grip tightening. "I missed you too, my sweet girl." But even as warmth flooded her at the reunion, she felt it. The absence. Mozrael had run to her. Aramith had not moved. Slowly, she turned her gaze to him. He stood stiffly, his dark hair disheveled, his clothes stained with dirt. But it was his eyes that struck her—the haunting emptiness in their purple depths. He did not react to the embrace, did not even look at her properly. "Aramith?" He barely blinked. Then, finally, he spoke, his voice quiet, distant. "Where is Lia?" A chill wrapped around her heart. She held Mozrael tighter, but her gaze never left Aramith’s face. And in that moment, she knew. Something had changed. Henndar signaled for all Deadlocks to leave the place. All but the leader. He stood behind Henndar, knowing he wanted to know what happened. Aramith’s eyes held no emotion as he spoke again. "Is Lia still unconscious?" Mozrael trembled in Kethra’s arms and she understood the tears weren’t only because she had been away. They were also because something happened to Aramith. Henndar’s usual carefree nature with them had disappeared. "She’s in her room," he spoke calmly. Aramith just nodded, not even sparing him a look. "Sorry," he muttered as he left. Kethra was frozen, not knowing how to react. She looked at Henndar, then at Aramith’s departing figure. Henndar shook his head slowly. "We don’t know all that happened. Allow him for now, he’ll come around," he pressed her shoulder. Deadlock One recounted all that happened when they were there, and Mozrael told them everything. She decided not to mention the conversation Lynnor had with Aramith. She felt it was wrong to say it, especially since Aramith didn’t know she knew. "...I... I think he thinks he hurt Lia. He thinks it’s his fault she’s like that." She ended with a sob. They finally understood his mood, but this was too much. As his parents, they could sense there was more to it. Aramith dragged his feet towards Lia’s room. The familiar smell of the corridors and familiarity didn’t soothe his mood one bit. He arrived at the door, but couldn’t open it. His hand hovered a few inches from it for a while before he shook his head and left for his room. The days passed in a suffocating silence. Aramith spoke little, his words growing sparse and detached. He did not join them when they visited Lia, only shaking his head when invited. Each rejection chipped away at Kethra and Henndar, their helplessness mounting with every unspoken word. Mozrael, too, watched him with wide, uncertain eyes, her fingers curling into her sleeves whenever he passed by without looking at her. Guilt weighed him down, settling deep into his bones. He could feel it every time he moved, every time he breathed. He had hurt her. He had hurt Lia. And it wasn’t just her—it was everyone. He could only harm. That was what his power was. That was all he was. One evening, unable to bear the crushing stagnation, he tried to feel his power. Sitting cross-legged on the floor of his dimly lit room, he focused, his hands resting on his knees. The air around him thickened, the familiar darkness curling at his fingertips. He reached for it, willed it to obey, to mold itself under his control. Nothing. He ground his teeth till they made a screeching sound. His breathing quickened. He tried again, forcing his mind to grasp the energy, but it slipped through him like leaves in the wind. The deeper he delved, the more unstable it became, writhing like a wild animal that refused to be tamed. His frustration boiled over. With a ragged breath, he lashed out. The room erupted into chaos—shelves overturned, books and vials shattering against the walls. His sword of darkness flickered into existence, only to dissolve just as quickly, betraying him even now. He let out a sharp, strangled breath, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he stumbled back, his hands trembling at his sides. His knees hit the floor. He clenched his fists, pressing them against his forehead. "I can’t... I can’t control it... I’ll never control it. I can only destroy." The door creaked open. Kethra stood there, silent for a moment as she took in the wreckage. Her gaze softened—not in pity, but in sorrow. Slowly, she stepped inside, shutting the door behind her. Aramith didn’t acknowledge her. He barely seemed to see her. His shoulders rose and fell with uneven breaths, his muttering barely audible. Kethra knelt beside him. "Aramith." No response. Gently, she reached out, cupping the back of his head, her fingers threading through his disheveled hair. He stiffened but did not pull away. "You’re not alone in this," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "You never have been." Still, he said nothing. She exhaled softly, glancing at the shattered remains of his room. Then, without another word, she stood and retrieved a cloth, gathering the broken pieces of glass, placing books back onto their shelves. The quiet sound of her movements filled the space, steady and patient. She did not rush. She did not expect him to help. Minutes passed. Perhaps an hour. Finally, she set the last book into place and returned to him. He hadn’t moved. His body swayed slightly, exhaustion pulling at him. With quiet determination, she sat beside him, wrapping her arms around him, and pulling him close. He didn’t react at first. But slowly, his body slackened, his forehead pressing against her shoulder, his hands curling weakly into the fabric of her dress. Neither of them spoke. She simply held him, her presence an anchor in the storm. Only when his breathing evened out, his body slumping in the weight of sleep, did she allow herself to sigh, brushing his hair back gently. "I just wish...I could help, not destroy" He muttered. "Just sleep," she whispered. "This will all pass," she wished more than declared. For a while, only the sound of Aramith’s even breaths filled the room. Then, the door creaked open. Mozrael hesitated in the doorway, surprised. Aramith looked... peaceful. Asleep. The sight of it left her frozen in place, uncertain if she should step closer. Kethra met her gaze and lifted a hand, silently beckoning her forward. Carefully, Mozrael padded across the floor, mindful not to disturb the stillness. She lowered herself beside them, and Kethra’s arm came around her shoulders—warm, steady, grounding. And so she stayed. Long after the night had settled in.