“I came to find you,” she said, her voice thinned by the now barreling wind.

He stepped forward slowly, his hair blowing back from his face, and his eyes were fire - burning low, a simmering dark, that briefly flashed with something that looked like sorrow, regret.

“I wanted to tell you, Sylvie.” His voice dragged like iron across stone. “I wanted to tell you everything.”

She stared at him. “Your rite of passage.”

She sighed heavily.

“The gods left more than just a mark on you that day, didn’t they?”

His expression hollowed. Haunted.

“Didn’t they?” she said, voice sharp now. “Please tell me it wasn’t you….”

She sucked in a ragged breath, preparing herself for his words.

“Please tell me it wasn’t you who killed those people….”

His body went rigid, but his silence was deafening.

She turned away, unable to look at him, unable to let him see the cry that rang captive in her throat. When she finally composed herself enough she faced him.

“Why?” she shouted, and the wind tore the word from her throat, casting it out over the cliffs. “Why, Axel?”

“Because I saw what they did to you.” His voice cracked, fists curling at his sides. “Because I couldn’t stand to watch it happen again.”

“Axel…” she breathed, shaking her head.“What aren’t you telling me?”

“I did it to protect you,” he said, and the words ripped through her like claws. “I saw what they did to you, Sylvie. And I know - better than most - what Rederick is capable of.”

She froze, the name an unwelcome guest.

“What do you mean? Tell me. Tell meeverything.”

He hesitated, his eyes shifting to the cliffside, as if whatever he was about to unearth, wounded him.

“Rederick is the one responsible for my pain,” he said at last, the words sharp, forced - biting. His fist struck his chest hard. “My people.”

Her world tilted.

“What?” she whispered. “How?… that’s impossible. Your people died out long ago. That would mean he’s…centuriesold. That he - ”

His eyes locked onto hers, steady and terrifying. “As am I.”

She staggered back, her breath torn from her lungs.

“What do you mean, Axel? Is he Hazier? Is he like you - ”

His hand lifted in warning. “He’s not who you think he is, Sylvie.” His voice was tight as a drawn bowstring. “He’s more dangerous than you can possibly imagine.”

Her heart pounded. “Tell me what you know. Tell me what you’re still hiding!”

“I’ve already said too much. There are truths that should stay buried. Things about me - about the past - that no one should know.”

Her voice was thin, edged in desperation. “Then at least tell me you didn’t do all this just to get to him.” Her voice cracked. “Tell me you didn’t use me,” she whispered. “Tell me it wasn’t all a lie, that it meantsomething.”

Silence fell heavy between them.