Page 93 of The Blood Moon Oath

I sigh, looking down at my hands. “I struggle with... a lot,” I admit quietly. “My past. My oath. Everything I thought I was supposed to do.”

His gaze sharpens, but he stays silent, letting me continue. “I made a promise to myself—to my family. To avenge them. To destroy the warlocks who took them from me.” I glance up at him, my throat tightening. “But then I ended up here. And none of this—none of you—fit into the story I told myself about who I’m supposed to be.”

He doesn’t flinch at my words, doesn’t try to defend himself or his kind. Instead, he nods slightly, as if he already knew this about me.

“And now?” he asks, his voice low, steady. “What do you feel now?”

I hesitate, my fingers curling into fists in my lap. “Conflicted,” I admit. “You haven’t done anything to me. Torin hasn’t. Finn hasn’t. You’re not the ones who killed my family, but you’re still... warlocks. And I can’t just forget what I’ve lost. What I swore to do.”

Kael leans forward slightly, his expression unreadable. “It sounds like you’ve been carrying that weight for a long time.”

“I have,” I whisper, my voice barely audible. “And sometimes, I wonder if it’s crushing me.”

The silence between us stretches, thick with unspoken truths. Finally, Kael speaks, his voice soft but firm. “When the time is right,” he says, “I want to know your past.All of it. But you shouldn’t feel like you’re still a prisoner here. Not in the present.”

I blink, startled by the shift in his tone. “What do you mean by that?” I ask cautiously.

Kael straightens, his broad shoulders squaring as he meets my gaze. “I mean,” he says, “you’re not just someone we’re keeping here for the Trials. You’ve earned your place among us, Sable. You’ve proven your strength, your skill. And whether you believe it or not, you’ve become... important to us.”

The words hit me harder than I expect, and for a moment, I don’t know how to respond. My heart twists in my chest, a strange mix of relief and something warmer, something I can’t quite name.

“You’re saying I’m not your prisoner anymore?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

He tilts his head slightly, a ghost of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You haven’t been for a while, little huntress. You just haven’t realized it yet.”

I stare at him, my thoughts racing. It’s not an outright declaration of freedom, but it feels like something close. Like a door I hadn’t noticed before is now standing slightly ajar. And for the first time, I feel... lighter.

“Kael...” I trail off, unsure of what to say. But he shakes his head, cutting me off gently.

“You don’t have to say anything,” he says. “Just... think about it. And when you’re ready to tell me your story, I’ll be here.”

Without thinking, I reach out, my hand brushing against his. He looks down at the contact, then back at me, his expression unreadable.

“Thank you,” I whisper, the words feeling inadequate but true.

He nods, his fingers tightening around mine fora brief moment before he pulls away. “We should get back,” he says, his voice returning to its usual steady tone. But there’s something softer in his eyes now, something that wasn’t there before.

I glance at him, a small smile tugging at my lips. “You’re not as icy as you like to pretend, you know.”

He raises an eyebrow, the faintest hint of amusement flashing across his face. “Don’t get used to it.”

I laugh softly, and for the first time in weeks, it feels like I can breathe.

Together, we make our way back toward the clearing, the tension between us eased but not gone entirely. It’s still there, humming beneath the surface, but it feels different now. Less like a barrier and more like a bridge we’re slowly building. One step at a time.

Chapter

Forty-Nine

FINN

The air hums with residual energy as Sable’s hand trembles, the last flicker of her magic sputtering out. The room is dim, the runes on the walls glowing faintly, absorbing the raw power she’s been channeling for the last hour. She sways on her feet, and I’m across the room in an instant, steadying her with a firm grip on her arm.

“Sit,” I order, guiding her toward the chair near my desk. Her breathing is ragged, her cheeks flushed from exertion, but there’s a fire in her eyes—determined, unyielding. “You pushed too hard.”

“I’m fine,” she insists, though the weakness in her voice betrays her. “I can go again.”

“No, you can’t,” I say, sharper than I intended. I take a breath, reigning in the frustration that always seems to bubble to the surface around her. “Pushing yourself like this won’t help. Magic is as much about control as it is about power. Ifyou burn yourself out, you’ll have nothing left when it matters.”

---