Jack’s POV
It’s been about an hour since she started the fire blast. It wasn’t an easy one to quench, but we did what Kenton’s been having us practice: I stepped in to console her, and she focused on her breathing, focus, and happy thoughts. Eventually, her fires went out, and she was left to process what she had just learned.
“How old was he?” she asks Kenton now, glancing up at him with a damaged look in her sweet, silver eyes that makes my heart ache. “My dad. When he did that.”
Kenton shrugs a shoulder nonchalantly. He doesn’t seem nearly as fazed by his own story as us; clearly, to him, Darks will be Darks. “Twelve or thirteen, I suppose. It was years before the exile.”
I can’t quite decide if it’s better or worse, knowing that he was so young when this happened. On the one hand,
