Chapter 3: Ash and Petals
The Myrr estate was quieter than Zen remembered. Quieter than it should have been. Silverleaf trees arched above the stone paths like patient sentinels, their blossoms drifting in the air like falling snow.
He kept to the garden's edge, cloaked in a concealment spell, but his heart wasn't hidden. Not really. It slammed against his ribs with every step.
She was here.
Kaelira Myrr, the girl who once stood between him and despair... and who, in another lifetime, had died by his own hand. Because he believed lies. Because he trusted the wrong people.
And now, she stood there again. Alive. Laughing.
She leaned over a fountain, coaxing a silver-feathered bird to drink from her palm. The light caught in her hair. Her eyes—gods, her eyes. They weren't haunted yet.
"Zen?"
The concealment spell broke before he could stop it.
He froze. Words failed. She was looking right at him, curious, not afraid.
"I—I thought you left the capital," she said, brushing her hands clean on her robes as she approached.
"I did," he replied. His voice cracked. "But I came back."
"For what?" she asked gently.
He hesitated. The truth wasn't ready to come out.
"For something important."
She tilted her head. "And did you find it?"
His throat tightened.
"I think so."
Kaelira smiled, the same soft smile he'd seen in dreams and nightmares alike. "Then I'm glad."
She lingered a moment longer, then excused herself with a polite nod. Zen stood there long after she'd left, staring at the empty space where she'd stood.
She had looked at him like he was someone worth knowing. Not a murderer. Not a broken thing.
And somehow, that was worse.
He hadn't realized how heavy forgiveness could be—especially when it hadn't even been asked for yet.