The next day,

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Night had fallen soft and still over the safehouse. The children were asleep, Selene had gone back to her cottage, and the only light came from the hearth, painting golden streaks across the floorboards. Malphas sat beside Aria on the wide wool rug, his back resting against the sofa, his gaze fixed on the flames as if they held memories written in fire.

“I have never told anyone this,” he said quietly, before she had even asked. “Not the elders. Not my generals. Not even the spirits who walk the old roads. But you should know. You should know where I came from… before you decide...