Silence hung in the air, answering the question he could not speak aloud.
“Yes,” Oliver murmured. His voice barely held together. “I would give up my oath for you. We are already on the path to doing that. Bringing Kathera back will break my oath.”
Something inside me snapped tight.
“What will that do to you?”
My voice trembled despite every effort to steady it.
He looked away, and that silence told me more than any explanation.
Then he met my gaze again and stepped closer, until his warmth pressed against the cold tightening in my chest.
“It would strip me of my family,” he said softly. “My god. And ultimately… it would erase the only version of myself I have ever known. Being a healer for Banthys is all I have ever done. Devotion is all I have ever known.”
His throat tightened as he swallowed. “If I break my oath, I lose all of that.”
He breathed in, slow and shaking.
“But when I look at you…”
His eyes softened, searching mine.
“I already know what I would give up just to look into those eyes for the rest of my life.”
A breathless, bitter laugh escaped him.
“And even then, it feels like it would not be enough of a sacrifice.”
My heart stuttered.
Because I did not know how to hold words like that.
I did not know how to deserve them.
“I do not deserve the kind of love you have for me,” I whispered, dropping my gaze.
He reached out and placed his hand beneath my chin, lifting it gently until my eyes met his gray ones.
“You do deserve it,” he murmured. “Even if you do not believe it yet.”
The tenderness in his touch burned.
I pulled away, slipping my chin from his hand.
The look he gave me… gods.
He looked like I had torn away his lifeline.
“I do not want you to give anything up for me,” I told him, searching his eyes, wondering how someone could make a decision like this so easily.
“I have already chosen you, in this life and every life beyond it.”
He stepped closer, closing the space until the world felt unbearably small.
“My soul recognized yours before I ever had the chance to breathe your name.”
His gaze held mine, steady and unblinking, before he dropped to his knees. He took my hand and guided it to his chest, pressing it over the frantic beat of his heart.
“My heart was always going to belong to you,” he whispered.
“And if something must be sacrificed, you do not get to decide what I surrender.”
My hand stayed over his heart, soaking in the warmth, the grounding that followed.
Gods, I wanted nothing more than to sink into his chest and finally rest there.
To stop running.
To stop surviving.
Something inside me pulled taut, an invisible string drawing me toward him.
“Oliver…” My voice broke on his name. “When you talk like this, I find it hard to walk away.”
“Then do not walk away.”
He said it while looking at me as if I were everything he could ever want.
Not walking away terrified me.
Survival had always been movement, drifting, never anchoring.
Accepting something like this meant roots.
Meant home.
Meant someone who wanted me to come back.
I had never had that.
“I will not walk away.”
The words spilled out on a sob as tears slid down my cheeks.
I sank to my knees and collapsed into his chest. His arms wrapped around me as my tears shook through me.
For the first time in my life, I let myself fall.
His arms were warm, steady, safe. I wanted to stay there forever, but even that wish hurt, because I knew I could not stay. I shifted, and he felt it.
He pushed my hair softly from my face. “I think we still need to get you talking to some trees.”
I chuckled. “Yes. I think I am going to go on a walk.”
“I will go with you.” He pulled me closer.
“No, Oliver. I want to go alone.”
His face fell, guilt stabbing through me.
“Not because of you,” I added quickly. “But because I think I need to sit with the trees for a while.”
He nodded, understanding.
He drew me into one more tight embrace, as if afraid I might disappear into the wind. His hand cupped my face, warm and steady. Leaning in, I breathed in rosemary and salt, grounding myself in him one last time.
“Come back when you are ready,” he said. “And stay safe.”
He let me go. I missed the warmth instantly.
I looked into his eyes and smiled. “I will always come back if you keep holding me like that.”
“Then I will never fear losing you,” he said. “Not if you were made for my arms.”
He stood and offered his hand. I took it.
A low hum moved through the forest, as if it were accepting something I had not yet accepted myself.
I walked into the trees.
They hummed in a chorus that curled around me.
I went until it was just me, the trees, and the stars.
I approached the largest tree in the grove and sat at its base. I focused on the air around me, how it swirled and followed me.
I sat there, breathing, listening, until I heard it—a deep, vibrating voice.
“Hello, Skyborn.”
Its sound was more song than speech.
I stood quickly. “Who is there?”
“Skyborn,” the voice sang, “you have been trying to speak to us for days. Would you like to speak now?”
“What is different now from any other time?” I asked. Had they ignored me this whole time?
“You have accepted fate into your life,” the voice hummed.
I thought of collapsing into Oliver’s arms. “That? You needed me to collapse into my emotions?”
“The magic that breathes through Celentra is controlled through emotion. Humans created the words, but emotion is what allows magic to flow. We needed to feel your magic before we could share our secrets.”
“So you felt my magic. What now?” I asked, feeling ridiculous for talking to trees.
A braided bed of leaves descended gently from the canopy.
“Let us tell you a story.”
It looked impossibly soft.
I climbed into it and lay down.
The bed lifted smoothly, carrying me into the sky.