Page 104 of Fallacies

“It is.”

“No, it is not.” She moves aside when I reach for her, avoiding eye contact. “Lucina, it’s not.”

She looks up, yellow eyes fading back to hazel.

I stare back at her, my jaw clenched so tight it aches.

She’s wrong. So wrong. It’s just a triggered reaction to a side of her that isn’t really…her. I’ll have to get used to it, but it doesn’t mean I can’t stand it.

“The day Ceres died, and you found me in the creek,” Lucina starts. “You were going to jump in, but when you saw my face, you didn’t. This morning, when you came to get me for the sendoff, you looked away when I looked at you. And back there,” she gestures to the bunker, “you nearly shattered a plate when you saw my illusion.”

“It was just an illusion.”

“That wasn’t,” Lucina snaps. “Just then, when I looked at you, that wasn’t an illusion, Callan.”

It’s a horrible time to be speechless, but I have no idea what to say.

There’s a disconnect in Lucina’s expression and a distance to her voice that splits my heart in two as she shrugs, having decided all on her own, “You can’t stand it.”

“Lucina,” I force out, dropping my head to my hands, scrubbing my face with sweaty palms. “What do you…” Anger swells, too quick to stop it. “What do you expect from me?”

As soon as the words leave my mouth, I regret them.

But instead of throwing down my shovel, I keep digging. “I mean…they took my home, my family, my father.”

Lucina rears back, throwing an arm out in the direction of Streatham. “They did. I didn’t.” Tears well in her eyes, and there might as well be a cold blade buried in the center of my chest. “Callan, I wasn’t even alive when that happened.”

It’s a bucket of ice water poured over my head.

“Fuck,” I drop my gaze to my hands, fisting them on top of my knees. “I know.” Lucina says nothing. “I know, and I’m so sorry.”

More silence.

I look up at her.

For a fraction of a second, it looks like she’s on the verge of feeling every valid emotion. Anger, disappointment, hurt. But before any of it can reach her eyes, it vanishes. Like a switch. Like she’s just locked it away or snuffed it out of existence. All that’s left is a blank expression. Empty and distant.

I’ve seen Lucina angry, and I’ve seen her upset. I’ve seen her cry and laugh and scream. I’ve seen her smile—I love when she smiles. But I’ve never seen her like this. So…detached.

“Lucina, it’s poison. That thing…in your blood…” I nod back to Streatham. “In their blood. It’s never been used for anything good.”

She shakes her head, taking a drink from her bottle of cider.

“I know you aren’t like them, Chaos, but my entire life, all I’ve ever known is that we are good and they are bad. There was never any grey area for me. It was always very black and white.”

Lucina swallows, staring back at me with that vacant expression.

I exhale, suffering through her silence, and when she finally speaks, some of that emotion she’d locked away bleeds into her voice.

“I can’t expect you to be fully okay with what I’m still trying to accept myself, but I’m not a bad person, and I don’t belong in a grey area.”

A heaviness settles in my gut, growing denser the longer I look at her. “I know.”

“Callan.” Lucina leans forward, closing some of the distance between us as she braces her elbows on her knees. Tears have welled in her eyes now. “I shouldn’t have to tell you that.”

The knife in my chest twists.

She’s absolutely right. None of this is her fault, I know that, but this news has been more challenging to accept than I originally thought it would be.