Page 107 of She Who Holds My Wrath

The words hit harder than any slap ever could. Aran has never raised his voice at me. Never sworn at me. Even at his angriest, he has always been measured, gentle in places where most people choose cruelty. Hearing that tone from him makes my heart drop so fast, it feels like missing a step in the dark.

He looks wrecked. Eyes bloodshot, grief carved into every line of his face, Velentha’s absence hanging from him like chains.

“Velentha sacrificed herself,” he continues, voice shaking so badly fury is the only thing holding it upright. “She gave her life to bring your husband back. Your Mate. And you don’t know where he is?” His laugh is sharp and broken. “Or even worse—you don’t seem to care?”

“Aran,” I say softly, guilt hitting me in the chest so hard it steals my breath.

“No. Don’t Aran me.” His emerald eyes are blazing, wet with tears he refuses to let fall. “I would give anything for her to still be here. But she isn’t. Because of you!”

The room stills. Even the air feels shocked. Then he turns and storms out, the door slamming so hard behind him the walls tremble. The sound echoes through me long after it faced. For a moment, no one speaks.

Tears burn instantly behind my eyes. I bite the inside of my lip hard enough to taste blood, but it does nothing to stop shame flooding through me. Shame, humiliation, grief, anger at myself—too many things at once, all clawing for space.

Elyistria moves towards me, but I shake my head quickly, wiping at my eyes with the heel of my hand before the tears can fall properly. “I deserved that.”

I sink onto one of the benches, every ounce of fight I had within me just moments ago draining out of me. My shoulders slump beneath a weight I don’t know how to carry. “I don’t know how to deal with all of this.”

Maelkar and Sariya exchange a glance. No words pass between them, but they understand enough to quietly leave, footsteps fading until only Elyistria and I remain.

“He’s changed,” I whisper eventually, staring at the old training marks on the floor. “He’s… different.”

“So are you,” Elyistria says softly as she lowers herself beside me. “His death changed you. You are no longer the soft sunshine, Daisy. You are a hardened, blazing inferno.”

I drop my head into my hands. “I know. I just…”

I don’t even know how to finish the sentence. I just miss who I was. I just wanted him back the way he was. I don’t know how to love someone who came back carrying darkness in his bones, when I came back carrying it too.

She exhales slowly, the sound threaded with old sorrow. “I was lost for a very long time I when I lost you—Dasmyrin.” Her voice trembles. “She wasn’t just my sister. She was the other half of my soul.”

I look up, stunned to see tears shimmering in her luminous blue eyes.

“When she died,” Elyistria continues, “I did not only lose her.” She glances down at her hands. “I lost a piece of myself, too.” A pale strand of light curls around her fingers. “My gift of life vanished with her. As you know, I was the life to Dasmyrin’s creations. I was the giver of magic to those we rose together. But the day she died, that power left me.”

I stare at her stunned. I had no idea, and the fact I hadn’t even heard whispers of it, must mean nobody else knows either.

“I do not know why,” she admits quietly. “I do not know if it was grief… or if some parts of me were so bound to loving her that when she went, they went too.”

My chest tightens painfully. I don’t harness Dasmyrin’s gift of creation either. Of being able to create anything I wish, of being able to mould the world as I see fit, just like she could. But now isn’t the right time to bring that up.

“I let guilt make me cold,” she continues. “Death does that to people.” She meets my gaze, her eyes clashing with my own. “And then you came back. But you’re her—and you’re not. And that hurts, some days.”

I reach for her instinctively, threading my fingers through hers. “I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I haven’t even tried to connect with you since everything changed.”

She squeezes gently, offering me a small smile. “You are not Dasmyrin, anymore. And I cannot expect you to be.”

We sit in silence for a while, the kind that settles softly despite the heaviness hanging over us. Both of us have been so irrevocably changed by grief. And every single part of our pain, Korithax’s pain, Aran’s pain, everyone around us… it’s all down to one group of celestial assholes.

“I missed him,” I murmur at last. “My soul physically hurt without him. And now he’s back… but he’s not.”

“It is fresh,” Elyistria says, her thumb brushing over my knuckles. “Things cannot return to what they were. But together, you are still unstoppable.”

She rises gracefully, smoothing her robes, and offering me a smile so warm it comforts a long-lost part of me. “Do not let change ruin your love, Daisy. Embrace the new.”

And then she leaves, and I’m left alone in the training hall, surrounded by scorch marks, broken steel, and a sword that remembers a life, a woman, a goddess… that I do not.

The room feels too large without voices in it. But despite everything Elyistria said, a terrifying thought still races through my mind. Loving Korithax again might be harder than losing him ever was. But nothing has ever been easy for us. Not love, not life. So how can I expect anything different now? He is still my husband. He is still my mate. For better or for worse… right?

I don’t stay in the training hall long after Elyistria leaves.