Kael’s words left behind a silence that felt anything but empty. It pressed in from all sides, thick and suffocating, settling into the hidden chamber as if the air itself had changed around his confession.
That portrait wasn’t about the past.
It was for the future.
Nyra couldn’t move. She faced the painting, staring at a version of herself that had no right to exist, yet stood there with calm certainty—almost mocking—which made her stomach knot.
Behind her, Kael just stood still. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t get closer. Didn’t explain. He waited, a man expecting trouble he’d already predicted.
Nyra turned, cautious at first, as if moving too quickly might shatter something fragile in the space between them. Her eyes locked onto him at once.
He lingered at the bottom of the stai
