The blow had stunned him.

  Kael felt his head spin, the world reeling. He rolled onto his side, his gaze drifting up toward the sky.

  The stars.

  Motionless.

  Indifferent.

  He gasped, struggling for air, then spoke—his voice hoarse, broken:

  “All my life I’ve crawled through the mud…

  And I held on.

  It’s not you—a little princess—who’s going to break me…”

  He slowly turned his head toward her.

  And saw her.

  Althéa. Tears in her eyes. Her fist still raised.

  A knot tightened in his chest. A wave of vertigo washed over him—not pain, but shock.

  “How…?”

  He didn’t have time to finish.

  Another blow crashed into his face.

  Kael growled, drunk on rage. He grabbed her by the collar and, without thinking, smashed his forehead into hers.

  She fell backward, caught off guard.

  This time, he was the one straddling her.

  His hands were shaking.

  The one who had explained this world to him.

  The one who had been his light in the middle of this chaos…

  …now wanted to extinguish him with her own hands.

  It was too much.

  Too much violence.

  Too much incomprehension.

  Too much betrayal.

  Althéa struggled beneath him. She struck his ribs, and he struck back—a sharp, nervous punch to her face.

  Blood spilled from her lips. She moaned.

  Kael froze.

  Remorse.

  Guilt.

  Shame.

  He looked down at her, panting beneath him, and his heart clenched. He was losing control.

  So, in a desperate motion, he grabbed her by the throat.

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  And squeezed.

  “I didn’t want this,” he said. “I didn’t want it to come to this…”

  Tears were falling now. Drop after drop, splashing onto Althéa’s face.

  She struggled. She clawed at him.

  She gagged, gasping for air.

  And that… that broke his heart.

  He loosened his grip.

  One second.

  One millisecond.

  It was enough.

  Althéa suddenly threw both arms up and slammed her palms against the sides of his temples.

  A dull crack. A flash of blinding pain. Kael saw stars behind the stars.

  She shoved him away with a violent kick, and he rolled onto his side, groaning.

  Althéa staggered back to her feet, panting, hair stuck to her face, fists still raised.

  Kael stayed on the ground, breath ragged, vision blurred.

  He pushed himself halfway up, staring at her.

  She was crying.

  Just like him.

  Nothing made sense anymore. He shouted, his voice shaking, broken, filled with rage and desperate pleading all at once:

  “I’M NOT SENT BY ANYONE!

  I just overheard a fucking conversation at the wrong time! That’s all!”

  Tears blurred his vision. He wiped them away with his forearm and looked at her again.

  She answered, her voice hoarse, fractured—but resolute:

  “I have a duty, Kael. I… I can’t let someone walk free who could destroy my family. This isn’t against you…”

  She stepped closer. Slowly.

  Kael raised his guard.

  She feinted a hook—then drove a brutal knee into his liver. Kael doubled over, air ripped from his lungs, but by reflex he caught her leg.

  With a desperate heave, he yanked, exploiting her imbalance, and threw a punch that landed clean.

  She staggered.

  Kael lunged—too fast. Too obvious.

  That was exactly what she was waiting for.

  She slipped aside at the last instant, swept his legs out from under him with a sharp motion, and sent him rolling into the dust.

  In a heartbeat, she was on top of him.

  She struck.

  Again.

  And again.

  Her fist crashed into Kael’s face in a flurry of harsh, gasping, desperate blows.

  “Why did you have to speak?!”

  “You couldn’t keep it to yourself?!”

  She was screaming.

  Kael, pinned beneath her, took the blows—stunned, nearly shattered.

  Until something inside him… snapped.

  A reflex.

  Animal.

  He grabbed Althéa by the collar, yanked her violently toward him, and sank his teeth into her shoulder.

  Until blood came.

  She screamed. From pain. From shock.

  And in a pure act of survival, she bit back.

  Two beasts.

  Two souls crushed inside a mechanism far too large for them.

  Two innocents ground down by secrets, legacies, duties they had never chosen.

  Kael suddenly released his grip.

  One second of clarity.

  He braced himself, planted his feet beneath her, and with a brutal shove, hurled her into the air.

  She landed hard on her back, groaning in pain.

  But Kael was already getting up.

  And so was she.

  They threw themselves at each other like two wounded wolves and collided head-on.

  This time—by sheer chance, or sheer bad luck—Althéa gained the upper hand again.

  She slammed him back to the ground.

  The blows returned.

  The screams.

  Ragged breath.

  Blood.

  Kael struck.

  She struck.

  And then—

  Everything stopped.

  Time froze.

  Kael saw.

  A woman.

  An unfamiliar face.

  A melancholic, resigned smile.

  No sound.

  Just that gaze.

  But he knew—he had seen her before.

  Somewhere.

  In a dream.

  Or elsewhere.

  Althéa saw too.

  A man.

  His face broken.

  A single silent tear sliding down his cheek.

  An image.

  Two seconds. No more.

  Then the world came back.

  They looked at each other.

  Faces bloodied.

  Breath torn from their chests.

  One’s blood smeared across the other’s skin.

  And without a word…

  They collapsed at the same time.

  Beneath the gaze of the stars.