Chapter 398: Epilogue 1: Kaelen

“That’s what you’re concerned about?”

He shrugged. “It’s one of the first things that came to mind when I realized that my dad had the hots for your mom.”

“Had the hots?”

He shrugged.

She rolled her eyes. “They’re mates…” She paused. “Witch and shifter, I think.”

“Those are different things?”

She smiled. “Yes… And we were both born in ritual. I think we are far beyond standard family trees."

"I'm just saying," Ruhkaal chuckled, his arm winding around her waist as he pulled her flush against his side, his humor returning with full force now that the danger had passed. "Technically, by the laws of the courts, that makes us step-siblings. Naughty stepsiblings, at that, considering what I plan to get up to with you now that the world isn’t ending…"

Isorai rolled her eyes, though the duck of her head betrayed her amusement.

“I’ll be curious to hear these plans.”

“Good.” Ruhkaal grinned, his eyes sparkling with a wicked, resilient light as he looked out over the Grove.

"Let's go tell our parents to get a room."

Isorai laughed and fell into step beside him. “I think we can take the time to meet other people. Leave them alone for now.”

Ruhkaal wrapped an arm around her and sighed.

“Fine. We can not be annoying children for no more than an hour.”

“Deal.”

“… do you think we’re both?” He asked thoughtfully. “Would you be open to becoming both?”

She smiled. “I’d love to… but maybe after we can actually carry out the rites?”

“Of course.” He led her to secluded section.

“Care to tell me how you ended up in the south?”

The collective murmur of a hundred resurrected witches died instantly, swallowed by an abrupt, breathless silence that rippled from the western edge of the clearing.

Through the parting morning mist, a figure staggered into the light of the Grove.

Isorai froze, her heart leaping into her throat at the impossible nature of what she was seeing and how badly she wanted it to be true.

The grief and anger that was all still tangled together drifted to the edge of her mind. Her gaze locked onto the silhouette, tracing the uneven, exhausted stride with awe and traitorous hope.

Not just for her, but for Asha and her sister, too. She felt him before she called his name.

“Kaelen.”

She was absolutely sure of it, despite the changes. He looked nothing like the brother she had known before he’d killed her. The lighter, sharp features influenced by Malrik had vanished, replaced entirely by the distinct, elegant markers of their maternal bloodline. His skin tone was darker. His nose was different. His eyes seemed a little different, too. He was taller now, his posture carrying the weight of his guilt, yet still as graceful as any of the Moongrove line.

His fear came from the back of her mind like a whisper. A tangled mess of guilt and big holes in his memory he recognized. He felt mostly whole, but contrite and so resigned for his apology to mean nothing, but resolved to apologize anyway.

It was agonizing.

She choked back a sob, realizing that the bond they’d had since they were children was back just like it had been when they’re mother had been alive. Witch twins were special like that. She hadn’t let herself think too much about it between his corruption, near death, and actual death.

Perhaps, the ability to know him and be known had been the thing she’d mourned the most about Kaelen when he was corrupted. The Wretch Choir would never allow a bond like that to remain, and Isorai wouldn’t have chanced being corrupted by keeping that connection open.

But none of that mattered now.

She leaned back on it, pressing on it just to see how strong it was. The answer, tentative, push told her everything.

This was Keros as he was meant to be. She couldn’t stop the smile or the relief. Couldn’t explain how it felt to breath free of the lingering guilt of having to kill him in ritual.

Couldn’t explain how grateful she was that she wouldn’t have to figure out how to be one half of a twin for the rest of her life on top of everything else.

Yet, as he stumbled forward, a sharp, metallic ring split the quiet. High Matron Irongrave stepped into his path, her face twisted in a mask of fury as she snarled. She’d drawn her sword and angled it at him.

“Leave.”

He ducked his head in shame strong enough that Isorai couldn’t feel anything else as she approached.

"You dare show your face here?" High Matron Irongrave yelled, her voice vibrating with centuries of unyielding martial law. "After the catastrophe you invited upon us all? The danger you put this entire world in?"

"That’s enough," Isorai commanded, her voice cutting through the tension with the absolute, unyielding authority of the reigning High Matron Moongrove. “It’s fine. He is welcome here.”

The crowd shifted as Isorai stepped past Ruhkaal, her armor catching the sunlight. High Matron Irongrave hesitated, looking at the diadem resting on Isorai's brow, before slowly lowering her head  and stepping back into the shadows of the elder trees.

Isorai closed the distance between herself and her brother. Kaelen stopped, his shoulders hunched, his hands trembling at his sides. He couldn't look her in the eye. His gaze was anchored to the dew-heavy grass in a display of profound, agonizing shame.

"Isorai... I..." he stammered, his voice raspy and broken, the words catching in his throat as he tried to construct the beginnings of an apology. "I never meant to—"

He shook his head.

“I shouldn’t have. I shouldn’t have been cruel. I shouldn’t have gotten tangled in it at all. I should have been stronger. I’m so sorry…I—“

She didn't let him finish. Isorai lunged forward, throwing her arms around his neck and burying her face in his shoulder. A soft, sniffling sob escaped her lips as she held him with everything she had, anchoring him to the living world. He was warm and real, and right now that was enough for her.

"Hi, Kael," she whispered fiercely into his ear, her voice thick with tears. "I forgive you. And I never stopped loving you, even when you were terrible.” She sniffled. “I missed you."

A ragged, choking breath tore from Kaelen’s chest. The rigid shame holding him together collapsed, and he wrapped his arms around her, burying his face in her hair as he wept openly, his body shaking with the relief of a man who had finally been allowed to come home after waiting for what probably felt like centuries.

From across the clearing, a soft rustle of cloth signaled their mother’s approach. Althea stepped away from Xaruh’s side, her fierce eyes wet with an emotion. Without a word, she reached out, wrapping her arms around both of her children, pulling them into a tight embrace that sealed the cracks of their fractured family. It wasn’t going to erase them, but she was confident that it was a start toward forgiveness.