Page 5 of The Weaver

“Far to travel?” The tips of Raikarn’s legs scraped the floor as he stepped closer. “You have just arrived, Rekosh. If you still keep your den in Moonfall Tunnel, it is no harrowing journey to reach it.”

“I den in Kaldarak. With my tribe.”

Raikarn’s mandibles spread, and the fine hairs on his legs rose. “Rekosh, this?—”

“I have not come to argue, sire,” Rekosh said firmly, drawing himself more fully upright. Rage and sorrow roiled within him. “Our threads have long been separated, and we have both been fools not to admit it. You have a place here. My place is elsewhere.”

“You came to say that? To say… To say what, Rekosh? That you want nothing more to do with me, with your family?”

Rekosh hissed, mandibles sweeping wide open. “My family is in Kaldarak. Not here.”

He emphasized that last word by stomping a leg on the floor.

Raikarn thumped his own chest with a fist. “You are my blood!”

“And is that meant to matter?” Rekosh demanded, striding toward his sire. “When I most needed you, when my world came undone, where were you?”

Raikarn met Rekosh head-on, their chests nearly bumping. “I never left you.”

A harsh growl clawed out of Rekosh’s throat. “But you did, sire. Here.” He tapped a knuckle against Raikarn’s chest, over his hearts.

“My world also came undone,” Raikarn said through bared fangs.

“Yet instead of clinging to the kin remaining to you, you let your hearts and mind drift away.”

“I never?—”

“Spare me. I have no desire to hear your justifications.” Clenching his jaw, Rekosh raked his gaze across the den, across all the evidence of the life, the family, his sire had made here. “I came to say goodbye. You have found joy and purpose again, and I will not stand in the way of it. Be content in knowing that I have found my own elsewhere and let that be the end of it.”

Their gazes locked and held. Untold emotions swirled in Raikarn’s eyes, which served as mirrors to the turmoil within Rekosh.

This was not what he’d wanted. Not what he’d hoped for.

But it was exactly what he should have expected, wasn’t it?

“I know that light in your eyes, Rekosh,” Raikarn said, voice broken and posture withering. “You will not be swayed. For all that I have done or did not do…”

Raikarn shuddered, mandibles twitching. When he reached up for Rekosh’s face again, Rekosh did not pull away. Their headcrests touched gently, and Raikarn’s fingers twitched on Rekosh’s hide.

“I will not have us part with hatred, my son. I will not allow my pride to blind me to the wounds I have dealt you. I am sorry, Rekosh. For the pain I have caused you, for my failures, I am sorry. I pray you will find it in your hearts to forgive me. But if you do not…know that I love you no less for it.

“May their eightfold eyes look upon you favorably, Rekosh.My hearts swell with pride in you, and your mother’s spirit sings with it.”

A tremor coursed through Rekosh. He squeezed his eyes shut, as though the darkness behind his eyelids could somehow banish his tumultuous feelings. As though it could calm the storm raging within him.

“Be well, sire,” Rekosh rasped before pulling away. He did not look back as he strode out of the den, though he felt Raikarn’s gaze upon his back until he’d passed through the entryway.

He offered no attention to the vrix he passed as he stalked along Goldflame Tunnel—not to their appearances, their postures, or their conversations. For most of his life, he’d been fascinated by gossip and rumors, by sifting through the endless information that flowed through Takarahl as surely as the air currents, but he had no interest in doing so now.

His place was not here in Takarahl. Perhaps it hadn’t been for much longer than he cared to admit.

His place, his home, was in Kaldarak. He needed only claim it. He needed only find the boldness to declare himself.

To claim Ahmya as his.

CHAPTER 2

The Den of Spiritshad long been a sacred place to the vrix of Takarahl. It was said that the spirits of their ancestors resided within the glowing blue crystals that dominated the cavern, instilling it with the wisdom and strength of untold generations. Supposedly, the power and influence of the gods could be felt most purely here.

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