“There was no other way than silence,” Li’ra says, as if reading my anguished thoughts. “Truly, Elloren, there was no other way.”

A rush of heat blazes over me and I look to Wrenfir across the table, Or’myr’s arm still wrapped around my shoulder as Wrenfir’s fire magery whips protectively around us both. “How did you get here?” I ask him.

“The Mages were killing everyone set against them,” Wrenfir says, outrage flashing in his spider-edged eyes. “After they murdered my sister and Vale...” He stops, his expression tightening with what looks like a furious, grief-filled rage as he shakes his head, seeming unable to continue without setting something ablaze.

“I accompanied Wrenfir, Li’ra, and Or’myr East,” Fain interjects. “I acted as their guard on the journey across the desert, a dangerous sojourn for a young woman without magic.” Bitterness creeps into his expression, his water magic stirring. “It was time for me to leave the Western Realm, as well. The religious...inflexibility there was gaining serious ground.”

“I saw the way Fain was treated,” Wrenfir bites out, ferocity in his tone as he looks to Fain. “I was quite young, but I knew and understood.”

And so, they all left for the East. Wrenfir must have been barely a teen at the time, I realize. This courageous family of mine. Pride swells in my chest.

“So, you crossed the entire Central Desert?” I marvel, glancing at them each in turn.

“Well, I certainly don’t remember it, as I was one,” Or’myr puts in with a slight smile, “but I’ve been told it was a dangerous trek.”

Fain gives Or’myr an amused look. “Not with a Level Five Water Mage and a youth who’s a Level Four Fire and Earth Mage.”

Li’ra, Wrenfir, and Fain exchange the knowing looks of people with a shared history.

“So, Uncle Edwin stayed to protect us.” I meet Trystan’s gaze. My brother’s expression is unreadable, but the tightness in his eyes and his tumultuous water magery relay his stormy feelings. I turn back to Fain. “And to protect me from falling into the hands of monsters.”

“You are sitting here,” Fain says, his tone weighted, “alive and on the side of the Resistance...and with a profoundly different view of things than your culture taught you to have, in large part because of Edwin Gardner.”

I nod as fresh tears glass my eyes and Or’myr pulls me into a closer embrace. An embrace I’m chastened to return. Because Rafe, Trystan, and I are the reason Or’myr never had the chance to know his kind, loving, revolutionary father.

“I’m sorry you never got to know him,” I tell Or’myr, meeting his gaze as our fire power breaks loose to lash around each other.

“I know,” he says, voice tight but kind. “It’s not your fault.”