Chapter 109 | Two Halves | Kael
I looked at him.
Looked at that perfect, complete, never-weakened version—of myself.
Three thousand years ago. Northern border. After father's death. I stood in the fortress ruins, facing the entrance to the Progenitor ruins. Inside was a power, a power that could let me avenge father, that could make me the strongest prince.
But the price was—
splitting.
The voice in the ruins told me: You can take the power, but you must leave part of yourself behind. Your weakness. Your fear. Your—love.
I left them.
I walked out and became Kael de Noct, who hadn't been defeated in three thousand years. And the part left in the ruins—
became him.
"You never left the ruins?" I asked, my voice hoarse, like sandpaper.
"I left." He said, his perfect lips curving. "During the Shadow Walkers' second invasion. During the Council coup. Every time you needed power but chose to back down—I was there. Watching you waste time, watching you form blood bonds with those mortals, watching you—"
He crouched down, meeting me at eye level. His eyes were ice-blue, but colder than mine, like two glaciers that had never seen sunlight.
"—watching you fall in love with her."
He reached out, his fingers touching Leah's cheek. She froze, not from force, but from something deeper—confusion. She couldn't tell which was the real me.
"Don't touch her." I said, my voice weak. Even I could hear the helplessness in it.
"Why?" He pulled his hand back, standing up. "You can't even stand. You don't even have the right to protect her. Look at yourself—"
He spread his wings, perfect dark red wings blocking the light from the crack in the sky.
"—look at me. This is what you should have become. Strong. Complete. Ruthless. If you hadn't abandoned me back then, you would have ruled the vampires long ago. Would have destroyed the Shadow Walkers long ago. Would have—"
"Would have stopped being me." I said.
He frowned.
"Weakness isn't a virtue, Kael. Weakness is a disease. And I—am the cure."
He held out his hand, palm up.
"Merge with me. Take back everything you lost. Prince's coercion, Shadow-Step, three thousand years of combat experience—and," he looked at Leah, his gaze empty of warmth, only assessment, "—the power to protect her. Otherwise, you can't even watch her get eaten by the Moon-Eater."
Leah gripped my hand.
Her fingers were burning hot. Silver-white light flowed from her palm into my body, like a warm current, temporarily slowing how fast I was fading. But her power clashed with my dark nature, the warm current bringing a strange, tearing—pain.
"Don't agree with him." She said, her silver-gray eyes looking straight at me. "You're not him. You're not a ruthless person. You're—"
"I'm Kael." I said, my voice soft like telling a secret. "And the one you love is Kael."
I looked at that perfect "self."
He was waiting. The Light-Eaters were waiting. The Moon-Eater in the sky was waiting.
If I agreed with him, I could become powerful again. I could protect her. I could—
become what she feared.
The choice from three thousand years ago, I had to face again. Power, or self. Survival, or—love.
I slowly, with all my strength, stood up.
Knees shaking, wings bleeding, vision going dark. But I stood up.
"I refuse." I said.
The perfect "me's" eyes narrowed slightly.
"You're insane." He said. "Without me, you won't last ten minutes. When the Moon-Eater comes down, you won't even have the right to stand before it."
"I don't need to stand before it." I said, turning to Leah, reaching out my hand to cup her cheek. "She doesn't need me to stand before her. She can fly. She can fight. She can—"
I paused.
"She can choose. And I choose—"
I looked at that perfect "me."
"I choose to keep being her Kael. Not the prince's Kael. Not the Kael who hasn't lost in three thousand years. But the Kael who burns pancakes, takes cold showers, and adds honey at five in the morning."
The perfect "me's" face twisted.
Not with anger. Something deeper—being rejected. Being rejected by the part he looked down on most.
"Then you die." He said.
He raised his hand, releasing his full coercion.
But the coercion wasn't aimed at me.
It was aimed at Leah.
She cried out, her silver-white wings pressed to the ground by invisible pressure, her bones making awful cracking sounds. Blood spilled from the corner of her mouth—not dark red, but something brighter, more human—crimson.
"Stop—!"
I threw myself forward.
No power. No coercion. Just my body. I got in front of her, taking that coercion with my back. My spine felt like it was breaking, my ribs like they were being crushed, but I didn't fall.
Because she was behind me.
The perfect "me" pulled back his coercion. He looked at me, something in his eyes I couldn't name—not victory, not defeat, something closer to—
sadness.
"You chose." He said. "Three thousand years later, you still chose the same answer."
He turned, walking toward the ocean of Light-Eaters.
"But this time," he looked back, his lips curving in a cold arc, "there are no ruins to save you. The Moon-Eater will eat her. And you will watch her be eaten."
He disappeared into the black tide.
The Light-Eaters pulled back, like a retreating tide, leaving chaos everywhere. The crack in the sky grew bigger, the Moon-Eater's shape clearer—it had a face now, a face that looked like "me."
And I knelt on the ground, holding Leah, feeling her quick breathing and my heartbeat—slowing together.
"Kael—" her voice broke.
"I'm here." I said.
"Do you regret it?" She asked. "Choosing me?"
I looked at her eyes. Silver-gray, filled with tears. They were brighter than the two moons in the sky.
"What I regret," I said, "is that the first time I saw you three thousand years ago—"
I paused.
"—I should have said hello sooner."
She cried. Tears fell on my hand, burning hot, like liquid silver.
And the crack in the sky, at this moment—
opened completely.