They reached the catacombs beneath Lyria, ancient tunnels carved into the earth. Kael leaned against the wall, breathing hard, blood dripping down his arm.
Althea tore cloth from her sleeve and pressed it to his wound.
"You should have told me," she muttered, voice shaking. "You should have told me what they're capable of."
"I was trying to protect you," he said.
"You don't get to choose what I face," she whispered. "Not when we're in this together."
He closed his eyes, pain etched across his face.
"You're right," he murmured. "But I was afraid."
"Afraid of what?"
"Of losing you."
Her anger softened. She rested her forehead against his. "Then don't push me away."
But trust, once cracked, takes time to heal. And for the first time since meeting him, Althea felt a thin line of fear threading through her heart—fear not of Kael, but of the secrets he still carried.
That night, as Kael slept fitfully, Althea sat awake, listening to the distant rumble of the Nightveil aboveground.
Something unspoken hung between them.
A question she wasn't sure Kael was ready to answer.