The stew had gone cold by the time Kael touched his spoon.
The little kitchen that once smelled of warm herbs and firewood now felt like a trial chamber. Liora sat across from him, untouched bowl in front of her, hands folded so tightly the knuckles showed white. Her eyes never left him.
Senna had gone to bed hours ago, the soft padding of her feet fading into silence. The silence had stayed.
Kael forced a bite of stew down. The taste was ash in his mouth. He set the spoon aside. "Say it."
Her voice was quiet, but it cut. "You've made us a target."
He exhaled slowly, trying for calm. "I've kept us alive."
"You've painted a mark on our door."
Her words struck harder than shouting ever could. Liora rarely raised her voice. When she spoke this way—low, steady, unrelenting—it meant the walls of patience had already collapsed.
"You've seen the feeds," she continued. "The guilds whisper. The Choir chants. The civilians mock. And Dominion—" Her voice trembled on the name, but she didn't stop. "Dominion isn't denying. You know what that means."
Kael's jaw tightened. "That they want me erased."
"No," she snapped, eyes flashing. "That they will erase us. Do you understand? Not just you. Us."
He looked away. The cracks under his bandages pulsed, faint light seeping into the room.
Liora's breath caught. "You can't even hide it anymore."
Kael pressed his hand to the glow, as if sheer force could smother it. "I can control it."
"You can't control yourself."
Her words stung worse than the Debt. He flinched.
Liora leaned forward, voice breaking. "Kael, listen to me. Please. Stop raiding. Stop patching. Stop throwing yourself against every wall Dominion builds. You'll die, and when you do, they'll come for her. They'll call her the Anchor or the Inheritor or whatever word they invent next, and they'll drag her into the same fire that's consuming you."
Kael's hands shook. "If I stop, the fire swallows us anyway."
"Then let it!" Her palm slammed the table. Tears glimmered in her eyes now, raw and unshielded. "Let the world burn without you. Let someone else carry the burden. Just stay with us. Please."
Her voice cracked on the last word.
Kael stared at her, throat dry. He remembered the first timeline, the screams, the blood, Senna's little hand going cold in his. He had sworn to himself that he would never watch that scene repeat.
"I can't," he whispered.
Liora's tears spilled. She shook her head, hair falling loose around her face. "You already chose, didn't you? You chose them. The raids. The guilds. The whispers. You chose this fight over us."
Kael surged to his feet, voice harsher than he meant. "I chose to keep you alive!"
Senna's door creaked open. A small, sleepy voice drifted out. "Papa…?"
Both parents froze.
Kael turned, chest heaving. Senna stood in the hallway, rubbing her eyes, clutching her notebook to her chest.
Liora wiped her face quickly, forcing a smile. "Back to bed, little star. It's late."
Senna's gaze flicked between them. The silence was heavier than any explanation. Slowly, she shuffled back to her room, door clicking shut.
Kael's fury collapsed into guilt. He sat heavily, burying his face in his hands.
Liora's voice was softer now, ragged. "If you love us, Kael, stop before you drag her into the cracks with you."
The glow under his bandages pulsed again, in time with his daughter's faint humming from the other room.
He couldn't tell Liora that the cracks were already syncing with Senna. He couldn't tell her that every patch he forced bled Debt into something larger than himself.
So he stayed silent.
Later, in the dead of night, Kael stood at the window, staring at the city. The neon glow of guild towers pulsed like watchful eyes. His reflection in the glass was fractured—cracks of light weaving through his arm, mirrored back at him like a warning.
Liora slept in the next room, but the distance between them felt like leagues.
Senna's notebook lay open on her desk. Kael had checked, unable to resist. The glyphs she'd drawn tonight weren't childlike spirals. They were complex, almost elegant—symbols that shimmered faintly, as if aware.
She was already walking into the fire with him.
Kael pressed his hand to the window. His breath fogged the glass. "Please… not her."
The city gave no answer.
Only the cracks, pulsing like a second heartbeat, promised that silence would not last.