LYRIAN
Sire was the first to break the heavy silence.
"We're going to be grounded for a little while longer, aren't we?" he said dryly.
Mia crossed her arms, irritation bleeding into her voice. "What is Reone thinking, leaving like that? We have to get to the Temple now."
Lyrian turned on her sharply, emotions flaring. "Why are you blaming Reone?" she snapped. "I know that we're getting delayed, but that isn't his fault. If you want someone to blame, blame him." She pointed straight at Cassian. "Him and his bad parenting."
Cassian's lips parted slightly, his expression caught somewhere between shock and disbelief. No one had ever spoken to him like that before—no one had ever dared to call him out so directly. For once, the man who always had words ready was speechless.
"Lyrian," Seren warned quietly.
"What?" Lyrian shot back. "It's true. If he had been the father Reone needed growing up, Reone wouldn't detest him this much—and he wouldn't have walked away."
Cassian's gaze dropped, her words striking far deeper into his heart than any knife. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and heavy.
"She's right," he admitted. "You shouldn't blame Reone. This is my fault."
"Of course not, Mr. Damascus," Diamond said quickly. "You're only trying to help. Reone is the one being difficult."
Lyrian let out a disbelieving sigh. "Are you all serious?" she asked, sweeping her gaze across the group. "Have you forgotten the state Reone was in when we first met him? How guarded he was? How stubborn? How quietly sad?" Her voice trembled with restrained emotion. "All because your Mr. Damascus taught him that caring made a person weak."
No one responded. The truth settled uncomfortably over the group—thick and undeniable. They realized that Lyrian was right. Now, no one could bring themselves to look at Cassian. Cassian himself felt something inside him fracture at her words—an ache so sharp it stole his breath.
Only now did he truly understand the extent of the damage he'd done to his son
No wonder he wants nothing to do with me, Cassian thought bitterly.
Lyrian turned back to him, meeting his gaze head-on.
"Reone isn't being difficult," she said firmly. "Anyone who's been hurt the way he has would react the exact same way."
Cassian bowed his head, shame washing over him.
Diamond hesitated, then straightened. "You're right, Lyrian," she said quietly. "I shouldn't have dismissed what Reone's going through. But that doesn't change the fact that we still have to go—and we can't do that without him, right?"
Lyrian stared at her for a moment before exhaling slowly. Diamond had a point, she thought. As painful as it was, time wasn't on their side.
"I'll go get him," Lyrian said at last. "In the meantime, you guys start transferring the fuel to our jet."
"Will do," Mickey replied with a nod.
Lyrian returned it and turned to leave—but Cassian's voice stopped her.
"Wait."
She paused, then reluctantly turned back, folding her arms and fixing him with a cold stare. "What?"
She had only just met the man, yet she already disliked him intensely. Maybe it was the way he carried himself. Maybe it was what he'd done to Reone. Or maybe it was the suspicion she couldn't shake—that he was the root of the problems in her relationship with his son.
Cassian could see her hostility and chose his words carefully.
"I know Reone hates me," he said quietly. "I know he doesn't want to hear from me. And I understand that. But… please make him understand that I truly am sorry. For everything."
Lyrian studied him. Against her will, she felt a flicker of sympathy. The guywas trying—far too late—but trying nonetheless.
She closed her eyes, releasing a slow breath, letting go of some of her anger.
"Reone doesn't hate you," she said finally. "If anything, I think it's the opposite. He's just… deeply hurt."
Cassian nodded, lips pressed together. Then he looked at her again, something fragile in his eyes.
"Do you think," he asked softly, "that he… might forgive me someday?"
Lyrian hesitated. "I don't know," she admitted. "He can be incredibly stubborn."
Cassian's expression fell slightly.
"But then again," she added, "he's changed a lot lately. So… maybe."
His head lifted. "You really think so?"
"To be honest,I'm not really sure," she replied. "But if you truly want his forgiveness, it's going to take time—and a lot more than one grand gesture."
Cassian nodded seriously, absorbing every word.
"Anyway,I should go look for him," Lyrian announced. "I'll be back."
"Be careful," Seren called after her. "This forest can be dangerous."
"Don't I know it," Lyrian muttered.
Then she turned and disappeared in the same direction Reone had gone, following his trail into the forest.
---
REONE
Reone walked without direction, letting the forest swallow him whole. He wasn't thinking—couldn't afford to. He let his feet decide, as long as they carried him far away from his so-called father and his so-called friends.
Lyrian too.
He couldn't believe how they had all taken his father's side—his friends, his loved ones.
They were supposed to stand with him. Supposed to care. The thought burned hot inside him.
With a sharp grunt, he shoved a low-hanging branch out of his way. Leaves scratched at his arms as the trees thinned, opening into a quiet stretch of land where the forest abruptly gave way to stone and sky.
Reone stopped.
A cliff loomed before him, its edge jagged and uneven, the drop below swallowed by darkness. He let out a long, weary breath.
For a moment, he considered turning back. After all they had to leave for the Temple. He dismissed the thought just as quickly as it came. He needed a moment—in this strangely peaceful place place.
Almost without realizing it, his feet carried him closer. He stood at the very edge and looked down. Nothing. Just endless black.
He knew he should feel fear. Of the forest. Of the fall.
But he didn't.
Instead, he sat down, legs dangling over the edge, and exhaled deeply. Somewhere along the way, the anger had burned itself out. All that remained was something just as bad—an ache lodged deep in his soul, a quiet loneliness tangled with a fear he didn't yet know how to understand.
He closed his eyes, thinking.
Why did my father have to come?
Why now? Why couldn't he have stayed at the Sovereign Arsenal—far away, distant, unchanged? If he had, Reone reasoned, he wouldn't be here, drowning in emotions he didn't want or understand.
With a groan, he slammed his fist into the dirt.
And then he looked up.
A soft glow flickered in front of him.
Reone widened his eyes, startled.
Butterflies hovered in the air, their wings glowing a gentle blue as they drifted lazily around him, unbothered by the darkness. They moved with an almost deliberate grace, as if the world had slowed just for them.
For a moment, Reone forgot to breathe.
He reached out, cupping his hands around one—but it darted away with surprising speed. He tried again. And again. Each time, they slipped through his grasp like light through fingers, much to his frustration.
"Reone?"
His body stiffened.
He knew that voice.
"What are you doing here, Lyrian?" he asked, not turning around.
"I could ask you the same thing," she replied, her footsteps soft as she approached.
He finally looked at her. Her face was half-hidden by shadow, but he knew her unhappy expression well enough.
"I'm catching butterflies," he said flatly. "Or at least trying to."
"Do you have to do it at the edge of a cliff?" she asked, worry unmistakable in her voice.
Reone glanced down, then back at her.
"Relax. I'm troubled, not suicidal."
Lyrian sighed.
"I wasn't worried about that. This area could be unstable. I don't need you falling to your death."
He rolled his eyes, then looked up at her again.
"Oh, so now you care? Butbyou couldn't have demonstrated that care back there—by taking my side?"
She was quiet for a moment.
"Okay," she said finally. "You're being ridiculous."
"Am I?"
"Yes." She placed a hand on her hip. "You're the one who keeps saying how important it is that we reach the Temple of Echoes. So why are you angry when we say the same thing? And just because we don't go with everything you say doesn't mean we don't care about you."
Reone clenched his jaw but said nothing, hating that she was right.
Lyrian sat beside him, careful of the edge.
"We're still on your side," she told him softly.
He nodded, eyes still following the drifting butterflies.
"I… I know. You're right. I overreacted."
"No," Lyrian said, squeezing his shoulder. "You didn't. At least—not about everything."
She waited for him to speak.
But he just pressed his lips together, unwilling to talk. His thoughts were tangled and heavy—too sharp to touch, too fragile to say out loud. Even to her.
"Hey," Lyrian said gently, turning his face back toward her. "you can talk to me."
His shoulders slumped as he gave in to her tender voice and soft touch.
"I'm confused, Lyrian," he admitted. "I don't know how to handle this situation. I don't even understand why my father is here."
Lyrian hesitated, choosing her words carefully.
"He did say it's because he's worried about you."
"And I don't believe that," Reone snapped. "He spent my entire life barely acknowledging me. Since when does he care?"
Lyrian's gaze softened.
"I think he's always cared," she said slowly. "Just not as much as he did his company."
The truth stung—but rang true.
"But maybe that's changed," she continued. "Maybe this time… you matter more to him. More than anything."
Reone stared at her, processing her statement. He struggled to accept it. To him, his father was cold, distant, calculating—more machine than man. And that's how he would always be.
"I just don't believe it," he said quietly. "He'll never change."
"Reone," Lyrian said gently, "weren't you the one who told me—just two days ago—that people can change? That you can change?"
He froze as his own words were turned against him.
"Yes, but—"
"No 'buts.' Did you mean it or not?"
"…I did."
"Then shouldn't you at least consider the possibility that your father has changed too?"
He opened his mouth. Closed it again, unable to come up with a reply.
"…Does that mean I have to forgive him?" he asked. "After everything he's done—and didn't do?"
Lyrian shook her head.
"Only if you decide it's what's best for you."
The thought unsettled him. Once, he had wanted a relationship with his father more than anything. Later, when hope turned into pain, he'd buried that desire completely.
Opening that door again terrified him.
Seeing this, Lyrian pursed her lips, out of ideas on how to convince him. Then her gaze drifted back to the glowing butterflies, and an idea formed.
She held out her hand toward them.
"What are you doing?" Reone asked.
"Catching a butterfly."
Almost instantly, one settled gently on her fingers.
"That's not fair," Reone muttered. "I tried that. None of them came near me."
Lyrian smiled.
"We have them back in Aurelis. They're Soul Wings. And they sense emotion. And they aren't very drawn to negative ones."
Well, that explained everything, Reone thought as Lyrian finally let the butterfly go.
"If you just release those negative emotions," she said softly, "then you'll be able to experience these beautiful little things. You just have to let go."
Reone immediately understood that this wasn't just about him and the butterflies.
He remembered then what Varek had said to him—about how he would never find peace if he didn't learn to let things go.
Now, after his untimely demise, Reone was starting to see his point.His and Lyrian's.
He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, releasing the bitterness, the anger, the fear,the resentment—if only for a moment.
Something brushed his hand.
He opened his eyes to see a butterfly resting there, its wings glowing brighter than the rest.
Reone smiled. He turned to Lyrian, who smiled back.
"Ready to go back?" she asked.
"…Yeah," he said quietly. "I think I am."