The meeting did not end with answers.
It ended with a decision already made.
They dismissed us just before sunset, as if our futures were nothing more than items on a list. I walked out of the main hall with my head held high, but my hands were shaking. Outside, the sky burned orange, the clouds heavy with the promise of rain.
I needed air. Distance. Something to remind me I still belonged to myself.
I didn't notice Kael following me until his footsteps matched mine.
"Alira."
I stopped.
"Don't," I said without turning around. "If you say my name like that, I might forget where I am."
"That's exactly what I'm worried about."
I faced him then. Up close, the years between us collapsed. I could still see the boy who once swore he'd protect me from everything—including our own family.
"You heard them," I said. "This isn't about us anymore."
"It has always been about us," he replied. "They're using the funeral as an excuse."
"For what?"
"To force you back into the clan."
The word tasted bitter.
"I never truly left," I said quietly. "They made sure of that."
Kael exhaled sharply, frustration flashing across his face. "They can't decide your life like this."
"They already are."
Thunder rolled in the distance, low and warning. The air grew thick, pressing against my skin.
"They mentioned marriage," I continued. "Did you notice how quickly they said it?"
His jaw tightened. "Yes."
"And how no one questioned it."
Because tradition didn't ask for consent.
"They want me tied down," I said. "Bound. Controlled."
"Or punished," Kael added.
That was worse.
I wrapped my arms around myself. "Why now? Why after all these years?"
Kael hesitated.
"That's what scares me," he said. "This isn't just about your grandmother."
"What do you mean?"
"They've been waiting for a reason. A public one. A death strong enough to justify enforcement."
My stomach dropped.
In our family, funerals were not only ceremonies for the dead. They were stages—where power shifted hands and old rules were revived.
"They're planning something bigger," he continued. "Something permanent."
Rain began to fall, light at first, then heavier, soaking the ground between us.
"Tell me," I said. "What aren't you saying?"
Kael looked toward the ancestral house, its silhouette dark against the sky.
"The elders are invoking the Blood Rule."
The words struck like a slap.
"No," I whispered. "They can't."
"They already have."
I stepped back. "That rule hasn't been used in decades."
"Because no one dared break tradition like you did."
My heart pounded. "That rule was meant for extreme cases."
"It was meant for examples."
Silence swallowed us.
The Blood Rule was not written anywhere. It lived in stories passed down in hushed voices—a punishment disguised as tradition. A way to restore order when bloodlines were threatened.
"If they enforce it," I said slowly, "I won't be allowed to choose anything."
"No," Kael said. "You'll be assigned."
I swallowed hard. "Assigned… to whom?"
He didn't answer immediately.
The rain soaked his shoulders, his hair clinging to his face. When he finally spoke, his voice was low.
"They're considering binding you to the clan permanently. Through marriage."
I laughed once, sharp and hollow. "You already said that."
"That's not the worst part."
My breath caught. "Kael."
"They're deciding whether you should marry someone within the clan… or someone chosen to erase your past."
Erase.
"You mean—"
"Someone you don't love," he finished. "Someone they can control."
The world tilted.
I thought of the life I built outside this place. My apartment. My work. The freedom I fought for.
All of it felt fragile now.
"I won't do it," I said. "They can't force me."
Kael stepped closer. "They can."
I looked up at him. "You're supposed to say you'll help me escape."
His eyes softened. "And if running costs you everything?"
"Then at least it will be my choice."
Before he could answer, a voice cut through the rain.
"Alira."
My aunt stood at the doorway, her expression sharp, final.
"The elders request your presence," she said. "Now."
Kael's hand brushed mine, just for a second. Enough to remind me of everything we were never allowed to be.
"Whatever happens," he whispered, "remember this—blood can bind, but it can also be broken."
I wanted to believe him.
Inside the hall, candles were lit. The atmosphere had shifted—heavier, ceremonial.
The eldest elder rose.
"The ancestors have spoken," he said. "And the Blood Rule will be enforced."
My knees weakened.
"You will remain in this house until the funeral is complete," he continued. "Your movements will be restricted."
House arrest.
"For the sake of tradition," my aunt added.
I searched for Kael, but he was no longer beside me.
"One more thing," the elder said, his eyes locking onto mine.
"The man you loved… is forbidden from seeing you again."
A murmur of approval rippled through the room.
"And if you disobey," he finished calmly, "the consequences will fall on him."
My heart shattered silently.
They weren't just trapping me.
They were using Kael as leverage.
As the candles flickered, I realized the truth:
This wasn't a funeral.
It was an execution—slow, ritualized, and written in blood.