The aftermath of the battle left the room in shambles. Shattered glass littered the floor, the faint scent of sulfur and smoke still thick in the air. The bloodstains on the cold stone floors seemed almost poetic in their crimson brilliance—art in destruction. It was chaos, but it was Celestia's chaos, and Kael had never seen anything more beautiful.
The Cormac family was no more, reduced to dust and whispers. The remaining mafia members who had survived huddled in the corners of the room, trembling under the weight of Celestia's gaze. But there was no mercy in her eyes, no hesitation. She was a queen, and these were simply her subjects—tools to be discarded when no longer needed.
Kael watched her, mesmerized by her cold composure. Every movement was deliberate, every step calculated. She was a woman of fire and ice, and in that moment, she was more dangerous than ever. Yet, there was something else in her eyes. Beneath the steely exterior, Kael saw a flicker of vulnerability—a crack in the armor she had built around herself.
His heart twisted. How could she be so strong, yet so broken?
"Celestia," Kael's voice was a low rasp as he approached her, the weight of the night settling in his bones. "Are you alright?"
She turned to face him, her gaze unwavering, but for a brief moment, her expression faltered. It was as if she had heard something she hadn't expected—the softness in his tone, the concern in his eyes. But she quickly masked it, her cold demeanor returning with a vengeance.
"Don't worry about me, Kael," she said, her voice hard and distant, as if the walls she had built around her were already rising again. "This was just a necessary step."
Her words stung, cutting through him like a blade. He knew what she meant. The Cormac family was just another obstacle to her rule, another challenge to be eradicated. To her, everything was a game of power—people, emotions, even love—were mere pieces on the board.
But Kael couldn't help himself. He stepped closer, his hand reaching out toward her, fingers brushing the edge of her arm. His touch was light, tentative. He knew she didn't like being touched, didn't like showing weakness. But he couldn't stop himself. He needed her to know he was there, that he wouldn't back down.
"Celestia…" His voice was soft, almost pleading. "You're not alone in this."
Her eyes flicked to his hand, the tension thick between them. Her lips parted slightly, and for a split second, Kael thought she might say something—something real. But the moment was gone as quickly as it had come, and she stepped away, her back straight and her expression hard once more.
"Don't." Her voice was a command now, low and edged with something Kael couldn't quite place—fear, maybe, or anger. "Don't think you know me, Kael. Don't think you understand what this is."
He froze. "I—"
"You don't," she interrupted, her voice rising now. "You don't understand what it's like to have everything ripped from you, to be hunted by your own people. You think you can fix me with your magic? You think you can change me?"
Kael's heart pounded in his chest, the intensity of her words searing through him like a blade. "I don't want to change you, Celestia." His voice was barely above a whisper now. "I just want to help you. To heal the wounds they've left inside you."
For a long moment, she stared at him, her expression unreadable. Kael felt a tightness in his chest, as if the very air around him was closing in. She was always so guarded, so distant, and yet there was something in her—something broken—that he couldn't ignore.
"You think I need healing?" she asked, her tone mocking now. "You think I'm broken?"
Kael's hand clenched into a fist at his side, his nails digging into his palm. "I think you're lost," he said, the words spilling out before he could stop them. "And I think you're afraid."
She flinched, just slightly, but it was enough. Kael's heart skipped a beat. Had he hit a nerve? Had he finally broken through the wall she had built around herself?
But then she laughed, a harsh, bitter sound that echoed in the silent room. "Afraid?" she scoffed. "You think I'm afraid of anything?"
Kael didn't answer. He couldn't. There was no answer that would make sense to her, not when she was this far gone.
Instead, he stepped forward, his gaze never leaving hers. "You're afraid of losing control. Afraid of the part of you that you can't control."
Celestia's eyes flashed, and for a moment, Kael thought she might strike him. But instead, she stood frozen, as if his words had pierced through her armor, revealing the raw, vulnerable part of her that she so desperately tried to hide.
"You don't know what you're talking about," she said, her voice quiet now, almost a whisper.
"I know more than you think," Kael replied, his voice steady despite the pounding of his heart.
There was a long pause, the air thick with unspoken words and tension. Celestia's gaze softened, just for a moment, before she turned away, her shoulders sagging slightly as if the weight of her emotions was too much to bear.
"I'm not broken," she said softly. "I'm just… not what you think I am."
Kael didn't know what to say to that. All he could do was watch her, his heart torn between his desire to protect her and the undeniable pull he felt toward her—a pull that was as dangerous as it was consuming.
As Celestia walked away, Kael's thoughts spiraled. What was she hiding? What was this curse that bound her so tightly to the past? And most importantly, what was it that made her so afraid of the love he was trying to offer her?
One thing was clear—no matter how much he wanted to save her, he couldn't force her to accept it. But he wasn't giving up.
Not yet.