Bound by Blood and Flame

Chapter Three: Eyes Like Storms

Luka

The next day, I went looking for answers. I told myself it was about the bruises. The cold looks. The way no one in the village met my eyes. But I knew better.

It was about him.

The boy.

Noah.

I told myself I needed to confirm what I already knew. But part of me—some trembling, dying part—still hoped I was wrong. That Kellan hadn’t taken what wasn’t his. That fate hadn’t twisted the knife that deeply.

I found them in the garden behind the healer’s hut. Lena crouched in the grass, her hands stained with herb roots. Noah toddled nearby, chasing a lazy butterfly with wide, curious eyes.

He giggled.

It sounded like hope.

Lena didn’t see me at first. She looked tired. Paler than yesterday, and not just from the sun. Her eyes had the distant glassiness of someone always listening for a door slam, a broken glass, a raised voice.

I cleared my throat gently.

She froze. Then straightened. Slowly.

Her face hardened. A wall slid between us.

“I shouldn’t talk to you,” she said.

“You already are.”

Her jaw clenched. She wiped her hands on her skirt, but she didn’t run. She didn’t look at me either.

“I wanted to see how you were,” I said.

Lena gave a bitter laugh. “Three years too late for that.”

I swallowed hard. “You look... tired.”

“Don’t,” she snapped. “Don’t act like you care.”

I stepped closer, voice low. “I do care. I always did.”

Something flickered in her eyes. Pain. Memory.

But before she could respond, the boy ran up to her, arms raised.

“Mama.”

She scooped him up with practiced ease, pressing a kiss to his dark curls. His tiny hand clutched the edge of her collar. He looked over her shoulder at me.

And for the first time, his eyes met mine.

Grey.

Storm grey.

Exactly like mine.

The world tilted.

I couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. He stared at me with open curiosity, a faint smile on his lips. Not fear. Not confusion. Just... recognition.

Like some part of him already knew.

Lena turned sharply, shielding him from my view.

“You need to leave,” she said, voice shaking.

“Lena.”

“No.”

I reached for her hand, gently. She jerked back like I’d burned her.

“I made peace with what happened,” she whispered. “You should do the same.”

“I didn’t leave you. I was ordered to go.”

“You never wrote.”

“I wasn’t allowed—”

“He thinks you’re his brother,” she said suddenly, voice trembling with panic. “If he ever thinks you’re more than that... Kellan will kill you.”

She pulled Noah closer to her chest. Her eyes were wet now. Terrified.

“I don’t care what you believe,” she whispered. “But don’t make this worse. Please.”

Then she turned and disappeared into the trees.

And I stood there, the truth heavy in my chest, heavier than any sword I’d ever carried.

Because now I didn’t just suspect.

I knew.

But I also knew this: she was right.

If Kellan found out the truth—

None of us would survive.