The second person who knelt did not do it in secret.
He did it in public.
His name was Marek—Beta-born, broad-shouldered, known for never hesitating in battle. He had argued loudest at the eastern boundary the night before, his anger sharp and righteous.
Now he stood in the open square at midday.
And lowered himself to one knee.
The camp froze.
Not because they didn’t understand what it meant—
But because they understood it too well.
“I choose order,” Marek said clearly. “I choose something that doesn’t change every hour.”
A cold ripple went through me.
I felt it—not as command, not as submission—but as relief. Heavy, aching relief. The kind that begged to be held.
My breath stuttered.
Ronan was at my side instantly. “You okay?”
“I feel him,” I whispered. “Too clearly.”
Ashae
