The Cost of Keeping Him
The truth did not let Lumi rest.
It pressed against her ribs like a warning bell long after dawn broke—if dawn could be said to exist in Noctyrrh, where the sky merely lightened to a bruised gray before sinking back into shadow.
At twenty-two, Lumi had learned that love sharpened truth instead of dulling it.
And right now, truth was screaming.
Blake had not spoken since the Dreadsword went still.
He moved through the watchhouse with measured calm, shadows obeying him too quickly, too cleanly—as if eager to prove they were still welcome. Lumi watched him from across the room, every instinct flaring.
"The blade is closer to you," she said quietly.
Blake did not deny it. "It's testing limits."
"The wrong ones," Lumi replied.
The truth confirmed it.
If the bond strengthens unchecked, he will become the blade's voice.
Her chest tightened painfully.
Outside, a commotion rose near the southern barricades. A runner burst into the hall, breathless and pale.
"They've taken hostages," he said. "Families. They're demanding the prince."
Blake stiffened.
Lumi felt the truth turn cold.
"They know," she whispered. "They know the sword wants you isolated."
Blake's jaw clenched. "Then I go."
"No," Lumi said sharply. "That's exactly what they want."
"It's what keeps them alive," Blake shot back.
The truth burned between them—merciless and clear.
If he goes alone, he will not return as himself.
Silence fell.
Blake looked at Lumi, something breaking open in his expression. "Then what's the cost?" he asked quietly. "Because there's always a cost."
Lumi swallowed.
"For me?" she said. "Or for you?"
The truth answered before he could.
For both.
They went together.
The hostages were held beneath the old aqueduct, shadows thick as pitch, torches burning low. Remnant soldiers lined the stone walkways, faces masked, eyes bright with anticipation.
The leader stepped forward, voice smooth and sure. "Prince Crowe. Lay down the sword."
The Dreadsword pulsed eagerly.
Lumi felt it tug at Blake's soul like a hook.
She stepped between them.
"No," she said.
Truth exploded outward.
Every hidden motive laid bare. Every lie stripped clean.
The Remnant leader staggered, clutching his head as memories flooded him—his daughter crying, the promise he'd broken, the lie he'd wrapped himself in to survive it.
"You don't want this," Lumi said gently. "You want absolution."
The truth cracked him open.
He dropped to his knees.
Chaos erupted.
Remnant soldiers surged forward—but the hostages screamed, breaking free as the truth rippled through the ranks. Doubt spread faster than fear.
Blake moved—fast, precise—but this time, he did not let the blade lead.
He chose.
Shadows obeyed reluctantly, restrained, disciplined.
When it was over, the hostages ran into the night, sobbing and alive.
The leader lay unconscious, the lies stripped from him like armor.
Blake stood trembling, the Dreadsword heavy in his grip.
"It wanted me to finish them," he admitted hoarsely. "To make an example."
"And you didn't," Lumi said.
The truth warmed—quietly proud.
That night, they sat together on the watchhouse roof, city lights flickering uncertainly below.
"You could let me go," Blake said suddenly. "The sword would loosen its grip."
Lumi's heart clenched. "Don't ask me that."
"I have to," he said softly. "Because loving me may be the thing that destroys you."
She turned to him, eyes bright and fierce. "Then I'll decide when I'm destroyed."
The truth settled—final and unyielding.
Love is not the weakness here.
As the stars stirred faintly overhead, Lumi rested her head against Blake's shoulder, knowing the cost would keep rising.
And choosing him would never be the easy path.
But it would always be the true one.