Kieran moved first.
The symbol he had drawn in the air collapsed inward, folding into a blade of pale light that hummed with stolen power. He lunged—not at me, but toward Elara. A calculated strike. A reminder of leverage.
Rowan intercepted him with a clash of steel and light, the impact tearing through the quiet valley like thunder. The ground buckled beneath their feet, grass flattening as if the land itself recoiled.
"Elara—run!" Rowan shouted.
But Elara didn't move.
She stood frozen, eyes locked on Kieran, horror and grief warring across her face. "You were in my home," she whispered. "You ate at my table."
Kieran twisted away from Rowan's blade, smiling even as he struck again. "And you hid a god in rags," he replied. "We all play our parts."
Something snapped inside me.
Not rage.
Clarity.
I stepped forward, lifting my hand—not in attack, but in refusal. The air thickened instantly, the light-blade slowing as if wading through invisible water. Kieran's eyes widened as his weapon flickered, its glow destabilizing.
"You don't get to touch her," I said calmly.
Power answered—not violently, but completely. The world leaned toward me. Wind curved. Stone shifted. The valley grew quiet in that unnerving way it does before a storm breaks.
Kieran staggered back, disbelief cracking his composure. "You're not trained," he hissed. "You don't even know what you are."
"I know what I'm not," I replied. "I'm not yours."
Rowan seized the opening, driving Kieran to his knees. The blade of light shattered, dissolving into sparks that vanished before touching the ground.
For a moment, everything stilled.
Then Kieran laughed.
Low. Broken. Certain.
"You think this was the hunt?" he said, coughing as blood touched his lips. "This was the warning."
The ground shuddered beneath us—not responding to me, but recoiling from something else. A pressure rolled through the valley, cold and invasive, as if a shadow had passed over the sun.
Nyxara's presence surged—tense, alert.
They're closer than I feared, she warned.
I felt it too.
Eyes on us that were not human. Intent that had nothing to do with justice or balance—only containment.
Kieran looked up at me, triumph flickering in his gaze even as Rowan pressed a blade to his throat.
"You showed yourself," he said softly. "Now they know exactly where to find you."
I met his stare, unflinching.
"Good," I said.
The word surprised even me.
Because as fear rippled through the land, something else rose with it—resolve, sharp and unyielding. I was done running from the truth. Done shrinking to fit the lies they built around me.
I turned to Rowan and Elara. "This ends here," I said. "Not today. But soon."
The first confrontation was over.
The war for my identity had just begun.