Lena woke to wrongness.
It wasn't pain this time, or fear, or the echo of power pressing against her ribs. It was the absence of something that was always there. Like waking in a room where a clock had stopped ticking—nothing loud, nothing obvious, just an unsettling stillness that made her chest tighten.
She blinked, eyes adjusting to the dim morning light filtering through the narrow window.
"Ashikai?" she murmured.
No snarky response.
No grumble.
No tail flicking in irritation.
Her heart skipped.
She pushed herself up, the blanket slipping from her shoulders. "Ashikai?"
He was there.
Curled near the foot of the bed, but wrong. His body was tight, tail wrapped around himself as if to hold something in. His ears lay flat against his head, not alert, not annoyed—defeated.
He didn't look at her.
Lena swung her legs off the bed and knelt beside him. "Hey," she said softly. "What's wrong?"
Nothing.
Not even a glance.
A chill crept up her spine.
"Ashikai," she repeated, firmer now. "Look at me."
Slowly—too slowly—his eyes lifted.
She sucked in a breath.
They looked… dimmer. Not physically dull, but hollowed, like a fire that had burned all night and left only embers. The sharp intelligence was still there, but the warmth beneath it—something ancient and steady—felt muted.
"What happened?" she whispered.
He opened his mouth.
Closed it again.
For the first time since she'd met him, Ashikai didn't have a ready answer.
Lena's throat tightened. "You went out last night," she said. "Didn't you?"
His ears twitched.
"…Yes."
Her stomach dropped. "Where?"
He hesitated, then looked away. "The Shadow Grove."
Her breath hitched. "Why would you—"
"Because something was calling me," he interrupted quietly. Not sharply. Not defensively. Just… tired.
Lena reached out without thinking, resting her hand lightly against his fur. He didn't pull away. That alone scared her more than anything else.
"And?" she asked.
Ashikai swallowed. "And it answered."
The room felt colder.
Lena searched his face. "The shadow?"
"No," he said. "Worse. Better." A bitter huff escaped him. "Family."
Her hand stilled.
"You never talk about your past," she said carefully.
"I don't have one anymore."
That did it.
Lena grabbed him gently but firmly, forcing him to look at her. "Ashikai. Don't do that. Don't talk like you're already gone."
His gaze softened for a moment—just a crack. "I'm still here," he said. "I chose to be."
"Then why do you look like you lost something?"
Because I did, he almost said.
Instead, he said, "Do you remember how I always joked about being stuck like this?"
She nodded.
"It's not a joke anymore."
Her chest tightened painfully. "What do you mean?"
Ashikai exhaled, slow and shaky. "This body… it's permanent now."
Lena stared at him. "Permanent how?"
"No ascension," he said quietly. "No going back. No… becoming anything else."
Something in his voice made her vision blur.
"You're saying you were… something else?" she asked.
He didn't answer.
That was answer enough.
Lena sat back on her heels, heart pounding. Pieces slid into place—the way he reacted to power, to fate, to shadows older than kingdoms. The way he spoke sometimes, like someone who had seen ages pass.
"You gave it up," she whispered.
Ashikai's jaw tightened.
"For me."
Silence fell between them, thick and suffocating.
Lena laughed once, sharp and broken. "You idiot."
His ears twitched. "Excuse me?"
She leaned forward suddenly and wrapped her arms around him, pressing her forehead to his. Her hands trembled.
"You absolute, complete idiot," she said hoarsely. "Why would you do that?"
He froze, stunned.
"Because," he said softly, "you're worth more than heaven."
Her breath caught. "You don't get to decide that for me."
"I know," he replied. "But I decided it for myself."
Her grip tightened.
"You should have told me," she whispered.
"I was afraid you'd tell me to go."
She pulled back just enough to look at him, eyes fierce despite the tears threatening to spill. "I would never."
He searched her face, as if committing it to memory.
"I'm not divine anymore, Lena," he said. "Whatever comes next… I can't shield you the way I used to."
She wiped her face angrily. "Good."
He blinked. "Good?"
"I don't need a shield," she said, jaw set. "I need you."
Something in Ashikai cracked then—quietly, finally. He leaned into her touch, resting his head against her chest like he'd done a hundred times before, but now it felt different. Heavier. More real.
They stayed like that for a long moment.
Outside, the palace stirred. Life went on, ignorant of sacrifices made in shadowed groves and frozen time.
Ashikai spoke at last. "The Shadow knows now."
Lena's gaze sharpened instantly. "Knows what?"
"What I was," he said. "And what you might become."
She stood slowly, resolve hardening in her bones.
"Then it picked the wrong time," she said.
He looked up at her.
She met his gaze, fierce and unbowed.
"No more secrets," she continued. "No more carrying things alone. If fate wants a fight—"
She smiled grimly.
"—it's getting one."
Ashikai felt something stir inside his chest.
Not divine.
Not celestial.
But something just as powerful.
Hope.