CHAPTER 11: WEIGHT OF REALIZATION

  Yael hiccupped again.

  It was small.

  Barely a sound.

  But in the charged quiet of the dream-realm, it cracked like a dropped glass.

  Helel felt it through his hand before he fully registered the sound.

  His fingers tightened on Yael’s shoulder, instinctive, reflexive, the way one might grip a railing when the ground shifts unexpectedly.

  He let his lips curl into his best approximation of a friendly smile, eyes closed, teeth barely showing.

  But it was the kind of smile that usually warned people to back away slowly.

  Yael shuddered under the pressure.

  The tremor ran straight up his spine, fear and apology tangled so tightly they were indistinguishable.

  He had already folded inward, shoulders drawing closer together as if he could shrink himself small enough to slip between the shadows pooling at the brothers’ feet.

  The air thickened.

  Not metaphorically.

  The dream-realm responded the way it always did when too many wills pulled against each other at once.

  Light dimmed.

  Sound dulled.

  Even the distant glow of the star-bearing tree overhead seemed to hesitate, its branches pausing mid-sway as if waiting to see which way the moment would break.

  Michael broke first.

  He wrenched himself free from Azriel’s and Gabriel’s earlier hold and crossed the distance in three measured strides.

  His boots struck the darkened floor with controlled force.

  When he reached Helel, he placed a firm hand over his brother’s grip on Yael’s shoulder.

  Not pushing.

  Not pulling.

  Just anchoring.

  “Brother.” Michael began, his voice steady, warm in the way command voices often were.

  The tone of someone used to de-escalation, used to stand between blades before they crossed.

  “Oh, don’t ‘brother’ me.” Helel snapped without opening his eyes.

  The word brother came out wrong.

  Sharp.

  Stripped of affection.

  Chilled down to bone.

  Yael tried to vanish.

  He leaned further into the overlap of bodies, positioning himself directly between Helel and Michael’s broader frames.

  His heartbeat thundered in his ears, loud enough that he half-expected the others to hear it.

  Even the shadows bent away from the tension, retreating as though proximity itself had become dangerous.

  Azriel and Gabriel arrived almost simultaneously, their movements precise, practiced.

  They slid into the narrowing space between their brothers like they were late for a meeting they could not afford to miss.

  “Helel,” Gabriel said gently, reaching out to touch his arm. “You need to breathe. Listen—”

  Helel’s eyes snapped open.

  The glare he leveled at Gabriel was blistering.

  Gabriel recoiled immediately, withdrawing his hand as though he had brushed against open flame.

  He pressed that hand to his chest instead, fingers curling into the fabric there, an unconscious defensive gesture.

  The accusation hung unspoken between them, heavy as lead.

  Helel didn’t pursue it.

  His gaze slid past Gabriel and landed on Yael.

  Yael had his eyes shut now.

  Squeezed tight.

  His lips moved silently, like he was bargaining with something unseen.

  If he ignored it long enough, maybe it would pass.

  Maybe this would all pass.

  Maybe he could hold the line just a little longer.

  Something in Helel faltered.

  Then he lifted his eyes again and met Michael’s stare.

  Michael looked exactly as he always did in moments like this.

  Straight-backed. Level. Unwavering.

  Like a ruler laid against the world to check whether it had bent out of shape.

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  Helel felt the familiar itch rise in his knuckles. The old instinct.

  Fight or flight, except flight had never really been his thing.

  He rolled the thought around, considering whether he was in the mood for a physical brawl or a verbal one.

  Then Yael’s expression cut through the haze.

  Resigned. Exhausted.

  The same look Suryel had worn in the ICU, pale and fragile and braced for something she didn’t yet understand.

  She might still need him.

  The realization landed with a sickening weight.

  “For what reason?” Helel thought, jaw tightening. “That, I am about to dig out.”

  But he decided to spare the little brother for her sake.

  He let go of Yael’s shoulder.

  The release was abrupt.

  Yael swayed slightly before Gabriel steadied him with a careful hand at his back.

  Helel broke eye contact with Michael and turned sharply, boots scraping as he crossed the space toward Azriel.

  “You know something.” Helel said, stopping directly in front of the eldest brother.

  Azriel did not move. His face remained impassive, but his shoulders had gone rigid, tension coiling beneath the calm.

  “Tell me, Azriel.” Helel breathed. “Spill it.”

  He flung the sunflower.

  It struck Azriel square in the chest before falling apart, petals scattering across the dream-realm floor like sparks of gold against the dark.

  A few drifted outward, carried by a subtle current of air, brushing against the boots of passing, unnamed figures who lingered at the edges of the space.

  Observers. Witnesses pretending not to watch.

  “I think I know her,” Helel continued, voice dropping as he pressed his fingers to his forehead. His eyes slid shut again. “I feel like I should know her.”

  His voice lowered further, stripped of bravado. “Who is she?”

  He stood there, unmoving, eyes closed, searching.

  Pieces surfaced unbidden.

  Yael’s presence from the very beginning.

  Always there. Always watching.

  The way he’d kept her separated, just slightly, just enough to be noticeable.

  Metatron’s familiarity with her, the way even his voice softened around her name.

  Azriel’s grief when she was hurt, deeper than circumstance alone justified.

  The looks the older brothers exchanged when she entered a dream realm.

  The sudden tension whenever she laughed too loudly, moved too quickly, got too close to him in all other instances—

  “No way.” Helel muttered.

  His eyes flew open and he doubled over, laughter bursting out of him, sharp and incredulous.

  He wiped at his eyes as if tears had formed from the force of it alone.

  “Is Suryel why I was banished here?” He asked, laughter still spilling out, disbelieving. “That’s impossible. That’s got to be a joke.”

  Silence answered him.

  Not even Michael spoke.

  The laughter died.

  Helel straightened slowly, his face darkening as the absence of denial sank in.

  His breathing grew heavier, anger bleeding through the cracks left by disbelief.

  “No, what—” He said, voice rough. “I can’t be right. Am I?”

  He dragged a hand through his hair, fingers catching and pulling as frustration took hold. “Did you banish me because of her?”

  He turned sharply, pointing at Yael. “Is that why he’s been keeping me away from that girl?”

  A gust of wind swept through the clearing, strong enough to lift the remaining sunflower petals and scatter them completely.

  Helel’s gaze flicked upward toward the star-bearing tree, its branches shuddering.

  “But how would that even happen?” Helel demanded. “She’s a mere human!”

  Yael leaned toward Azriel, whispering, barely audible. “He’s forgotten our little sister, hasn’t he?”

  Gabriel reacted instantly, clapping a hand over Yael’s mouth in panic.

  Too late.

  The breeze carried the words effortlessly, depositing them right at Helel’s ear.

  Helel’s head snapped around.

  At the same moment, he caught sight of Gabriel’s hand pressed over Yael’s mouth.

  Yael’s eyes wide with horror.

  Helel’s nostrils flared.

  Michael turned on Gabriel with a look so empty it was terrifying.

  If looks could kill, there would have been nothing left to bury.

  Yael tried to bolt but Gabriel clung to him, shielding himself behind the smaller frame like the younger brother was a shield.

  Azriel shot Michael a warning glance, sharp and precise.

  Michael closed his eyes.

  When he turned away, the motion felt like surrender.

  Helel stared after him, something breaking loose in his chest.

  “Wait— What do you mean.” Helel asked quietly, the confusion raw now, unguarded, eyes softening on Yael. “I forgot a little sister?”

  Azriel and Michael stiffened in unison, eyes closing as if bracing for impact.

  The wind surged again, rippling across water and grass, weaving between the brothers like a curious thing tasting the air.

  It carried a strange, almost mocking levity.

  As though the realm itself found irony delicious.

  The realization crashed down.

  The sunflower.

  Where he had placed it.

  Suryel’s flinch, her brows knitting as if struck by a phantom pain.

  The way she’d pressed her hand to her stomach afterward.

  The hesitation in her words.

  The shadows between them.

  Gaps yawned open in his mind.

  Whole centuries missing.

  Cleanly excised.

  A sharp flash of dark lapis floors echoed through his thoughts, leaving a ringing ache behind.

  “So it did feel familiar.” Helel murmured, clutching his head as the sound roared in his ears.

  He pushed deeper.

  Back to the moment he woke, kneeling in chains within the Eternal Realm’s prison.

  Furious.

  Confused.

  Shouting someone’s name into the void.

  But whose name… Was that?

  He reached further, desperate now, but found nothing.

  No memories.

  Not even fragments.

  Just emptiness.

  A void he would never have noticed if he hadn’t gone looking.

  Helel staggered back.

  Then he turned and walked away from the group, boots carrying him blindly toward the edge of the dream-realm.

  “What’s happened to my memories?” He asked, his voice trailing off into the dark.

  The question lingered, unanswered, as the realm slowly resumed its breath.