Kavi sat cross-legged on her narrow bed, fingers picking at a frayed seam in her jeans, jaw set so tight it ached. The distant pulse of waves was nothing compared to the blood roaring in her ears. She could still see Selis’s face in the lantern-light, lips bitten red, hair pulled back in a severe knot, eyes wild and glinting. It was all she could do not to smash something—again. But Selis beat her to it, hurling open the door, her voice cracking like ice.

Kavi shot upright, heart thumping. Selis stood in the doorway, face pale and angular in the gray morning, wearing a faded blue sweater that drowned her slender frame. There was something almost trembling about her, like she wanted to claw her way out of her own skin.

“You used me,” Selis spat, voice raw as new wounds. The words stung, but Kavi met her gaze, chin jutted, arms folded across her wiry chest. “That’s rich,” Kavi snapped back, summoning the sharpness she wore like chainmail. “You think you own him. You think you own everything.”

Selis flinched. For a second, she looked impossibly young. Kavi wanted to hate her, but there was only the sharp ache of being seen and hated back. Selis crossed the room in two strides, breath quickening, nostrils flaring as if she couldn’t decide whether to scream, cry, or lash out.

“He chose you. I see it. Do you want me to beg?” Selis’s voice broke, thick with humiliation.

Kavi laughed, bitter and brittle. “It wasn’t choosing. It was…” The truth stuck in her throat. Shame pricked her skin. She looked away, shoulders curled inward, every muscle drawn tight against the threat of tears. “You don’t even know what he does to us,” she whispered, voice ragged. “To me.”

Selis’s anger deflated, replaced by something quieter—maybe pity, maybe understanding. She reached out, but Kavi recoiled, glaring at the floor, anger burning through her shame. “Don’t touch me. Don’t pretend you get it.”

The silence between them was thick with everything unsaid. Selis’s hands curled uselessly at her sides. She looked so lost, so desperate for something solid to hold onto. But Kavi had nothing left. She pushed past Selis, boots echoing down the winding steps, throat tight, pulse stuttering with rage and regret.

She stumbled outside, salt air stinging her eyes. The beach was cold and empty, sky pressed flat against the horizon. She walked until her legs trembled, then sat amid the wind-scattered stones, tugging up her sleeve to stare at the scars she hated and needed, lines thin and pale beneath goosebumped skin. She pressed her fist to her mouth, trying not to sob.

A shadow fell across her. Drevik stood above her, hands buried in his battered jacket, dark hair half-shadowing his face. He crouched down, knees cracking, gaze steady but gentle. Kavi tried to turn away, but he caught her wrist—careful, not demanding—and looked, really looked, at her scars.

She waited for disgust, or the pity she loathed, but Drevik only exhaled slowly, thumb tracing the inside of her arm as if memorizing the feel of her. He didn’t speak, just let their silence stand, weighty and real.

“If you want to run,” he said quietly, “I’ll help you. But I’d rather stay. With you.” His voice barely carried above the wind.

Kavi blinked, tears streaking her cheeks, unable to remember the last time she’d felt seen and unjudged. For a second, she let herself lean in, let his warmth hold her together before the pain came rushing back.

Back up at the lighthouse, Vael watched from the window with narrowed eyes, calculating, twisting the silver ring on his finger. Mirael’s laughter echoed down the hallway, her voice syrupy sweet as she baited Selis with murmured lies about friends who vanished and secrets never stay buried.

Inside, everyone was cracking—faultlines spreading.

But on the beach, Kavi’s defenses slipped just enough to let Drevik pull her close, his hands steady, promising something almost like hope.

To be continued...