Page 84 of Emylia

"Is that what they made you believe? That you’re beyond redemption?"

His jaw clenched.

Still no answer.

No denial.

So I leaned in—closer than I should have. Close enough to feel the tension rippling off him like heat from a blade fresh out of the forge.

My voice dropped, barely more than a breath. "Because if that’s what they made you believe—if they crushed every good thing beneath blood and bone and obedience—then they didn’t make a warrior." I swallowed hard. "They made a weapon. One built to destroy."

I let the silence hang for a beat.

"But even weapons forged in chaos can choose who they carve into next." I didn’t blink. Didn’t back down. "You’re not beyond saving, Maalikai. Not unless you keep choosing to be."

His storm-cloud eyes flicked toward mine, and for a heartbeat, I saw it—the fracture.

Not rage.

Not pride.

Grief.

"Maalikai..." My voice cracked under the weight of his name, and he flinched like it cut him open.

His eyes were wide, hollow, filled with a pain I could never understand. And then he whispered it—so quiet I almost missed it.

"You don’t get to save me."

And something inside me shattered. Because I wasn't sure if he meant I couldn't… or that I shouldn’t.

He looked away like the sight of me was too much to bear—like kindness hurt more than cruelty ever could.

"They didn't just train me to kill,"he said finally, voice raw, hollow. "They taught me how to forget what it meant to feel. To hesitate. To question. They took a boy and stripped everything that made him human—until all that was left was something... efficient."

His fingers twitched at his sides, like he wanted to clench them into fists but didn’t have the strength.

"They didn’t want soldiers. They wanted silence. Shadows. Ghosts that left no trace but blood." He exhaled, but it sounded more like surrender than relief.

His eyes didn’t meet mine, but I saw the storm beneath them. Not rage—remorse.

"And the worst part?"

He met my eyes again, and this time there was no shield—only ruin.

"I was good at it. I didn't break. I thrived. I became exactly what they wanted. What I let them make me."

I didn’t speak. Didn’t reach for him. I just stayed exactly where I was—still, steady, undeniable.Because I knew if I moved too fast, even breathed too loud, he’d vanish—retreat behind the armor he’d spent years sealing shut.

Another breath tore from him—shaky, uneven—like the weight of what he’d revealed was already being dragged back into the cage he’d built for it.

Locked tight.

Hidden deep.

And Gods, he was good at it.

Too good.

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