A quiet place by mistakes.

"You have no reason to cry for him."

The Demon King's voice was deep, steady….almost indifferent. But his fingers curled slightly as he stepped forward.

Ember didn't react.

She remained curled on the floor, small, fragile, sobbing into her arms.

His chest tightened.

Something dark burned beneath his skin. Anger. He wasn't sure if it was meant for her, for his son, or for the world that had left her this way.

With a quiet exhale, he bent down and lifted her into his arms.

She didn't resist.

She didn't even acknowledge him.

Her body was too light, too still, aside from the occasional trembling in her limbs.

He carried her away.

Not a single word was exchanged.

She clung to the silence, and for once….so did he.

The moment the warm water touched her skin, she let out a soft, shaky breath.

She didn't fight it.

Didn't flinch.

She simply let herself sink into it, curling up at the edge of the bath.

He knelt beside her, sleeves rolled up, his hands moving carefully as he dipped a cloth into the water, then ran it gently over her arms.

Ember didn't stop crying.

She wasn't sobbing anymore.

But the tears wouldn't stop falling.

He didn't rush her.

Didn't try to speak.

He simply sat there, washing her gently, brushing strands of wet hair away from her face.

Minutes passed.

Her breathing slowed.

Eventually, her voice, small and hoarse, broke the silence.

"I want to go home."

He paused.

She lifted her gaze, red-rimmed eyes meeting his.

"I want to go back to my grandmother."

His expression didn't change.

He simply nodded. "Then you will."

Her lips parted slightly, as if she hadn't expected such an easy answer.

"You're not going to stop me?" she whispered.

The Demon King's eyes lowered to the water, the ripples shifting as he dipped the cloth again.

"Why would I?"

"Because…." her voice cracked, "...that's what demons do, right? Take what they want?"

He didn't reply immediately.

Instead, he lifted his gaze and looked at her properly….not just at the tears on her cheeks, but at the weariness in her eyes.

"You are not something to be taken," he said quietly.

She bit her lip, looking away.

That's when he saw it.

The scars.

His entire body stiffened.

Jagged lines. Some deep. Some faint.

Some so carefully placed they could only have been made by hands that knew how to cause pain.

His fingers twitched at his sides.

A slow, burning rage coiled in his chest.

Ember noticed.

Her entire body tensed.

Quickly, she moved to cover herself, arms wrapping around her torso.

"Don't," she whispered.

He didn't speak.

Didn't let his eyes linger.

Didn't let her see the sheer murderous intent brewing inside him.

He simply turned back to the water, wringing out the cloth as if he hadn't seen a thing.

She exhaled, but the tension in her shoulders remained.

And then….she started talking.

Not to him.

Not to anyone.

Just… speaking.

"I think the worst part isn't the pain," she murmured.

He glanced at her.

Her gaze was distant, staring at her reflection in the water.

"It's the way people look at you when they see them," she continued. "Like you're broken. Like you're someone to be pitied. I hate that more than anything."

The Demon King remained silent.

She kept going.

"I always tried to be good," she whispered. "I gave everything I had. My time, my love, my kindness. And still…"

She laughed, but it was empty.

"I was never enough."

His fingers curled into a fist.

"I never knew what it felt like to be… wanted. Not really."

Her voice grew softer.

"My parents were the only ones who ever truly cared. But then they died, and suddenly I was just… nothing."

She swallowed hard, blinking rapidly.

"I had to fight for every ounce of warmth I ever got. And even when I had it, I knew it would never last."

A long pause.

Her hands trembled as she touched the water, watching the way the ripples spread.

"Why is it always the ones who love the hardest that get left with nothing?"

The Demon King's jaw tightened.

He didn't answer.

Because he didn't know how.

Minutes passed.

Her voice faded.

She kept speaking, but the words grew quieter, slower.

Eventually, they stopped altogether.

Her head dipped forward, her body giving in to exhaustion.

She had fallen asleep.

He sat there for a long time, watching her—watching the way her body finally relaxed, the way the tension in her expression melted into something more peaceful.

But then….a soft whimper.

His eyes snapped to her face.

She twitched slightly, brows furrowing, her lips parting with quiet, broken words.

"Please… don't hit me…"

The Demon King's blood turned to ice.

His body went rigid, unmoving.

"Please," she whimpered, curling up. "I'll do anything…"

His grip on the cloth tightened violently.

His breath was steady, but only because he was holding it in.

Slowly, he stood.

Without a word, he lifted her from the bath, wrapped a warm towel around her, and carried her to his bed.

She barely stirred.

He dried her carefully, covering her with blankets before settling into the chair beside her.

Watching.

Waiting.

His mind was somewhere else now.

Somewhere much, much darker.

He had never been the type to care for humans.

But something about this one….

The wounds she carried, the pain she buried, the way she spoke of love as if it was something meant for others but never for her….

It left something cold and unrelenting in his chest.

Something Kaelith had never managed to ignite in him.

His fingers tapped against the armrest, slow, deliberate.

His expression didn't change.

But the decision had already been made.

Even if she never knew it….

The ones who had hurt her would bleed.

"Kaelith… let me go."

Her voice trembled, not with fear, but with quiet acceptance.

Kaelith's grip tightened around her wrist, his claws digging into her delicate skin as she dangled over the cliff's edge. Blood trickled from her forehead, painting her face in deep red streaks. Her dress was torn, clinging to her fragile frame, her body already battered from the fight he had put her through.

He couldn't breathe.

This wasn't supposed to happen.

She wasn't supposed to fall.

"You think I'll let you go that easily?" His voice was a snarl, but the panic bled into his tone, betraying him.

Sorei smiled bitterly.

That same damn smile.

Even now….with death staring her in the face…she still looked at him like that.

Like she still loved him.

Like he hadn't just torn her apart with his own hands.

"You already let me go, Kaelith," she whispered. "The moment you stopped believing in me."

Kaelith shook his head, gripping her harder. "I didn't…."

"You did." A tear slipped down her cheek, mixing with the blood. "You believed him. You believed Xeylan over me."

Her voice broke, but she kept going.

"You thought I betrayed you."

His throat tightened.

"You thought I gave myself to him."

Kaelith clenched his jaw. "Don't say it."

"You thought this child wasn't yours," she whispered.

Kaelith flinched.

The world stopped.

His grip almost slipped.

"You're lying," he rasped, but the words felt weak.

Sorei let out a soft, shaking breath.

"You know I'm not."

Kaelith's vision blurred.

The child. His child.

He had thought….he had been so damn sure….

Xeylan had shown him the letters.

The proof.

The night Sorei met with him in secret.

The rumors. The whispers. The betrayal.

All of it had burned inside him, and he had done the one thing he swore he never would.

He had turned his rage on her.

"Sorei…" His voice cracked.

She smiled, but it was full of pain.

"I loved you, Kaelith," she whispered. "I always loved you."

"Then don't let go," he begged. His pride was gone, his fury shattered. Only desperation remained.

She winced. His grip was slipping.

Or maybe….maybe she was letting herself slip.

Maybe she had already decided.

Her fingers brushed his one last time.

"Take care of him," she murmured.

A sob ripped through Kaelith's chest.

"Sorei…."

Her fingers loosened.

Her lips moved, but the wind stole her final words.

And then…..

She fell.

Kaelith lunged, his magic flaring, but….

It was too late.

She disappeared into the darkness below.

A hollow scream tore from his throat, but it wasn't rage anymore.

It was grief.

It was regret.

It was the sound of a man who had just destroyed everything he ever loved.

And then….

Then there was nothing.

Only the silence.

Only the cold.

Only her blood still staining his hands.

Present Day….The Mountain Ridge

Kaelith gasped, snapping out of the memory, his breath ragged, his chest heaving violently.

His knees hit the ground.

He clawed at the dirt, digging into the earth like he could pull her back from the grave.

It had been years.

And yet…..

The pain was still raw.

The truth had come too late.

She had died believing he hated her.

She had died thinking she was alone.

And now…..

Now Ember looked at him the same way.

Like she had loved him just a little too much.

Like she had trusted him.

Like he had betrayed that trust in the worst way possible.

A bitter laugh escaped his lips.

He really was a damned fool.

His fingers clenched into fists, blood pooling from his palms.

If there were gods, they were laughing at him.

Because for the first time since Sorei….

Kaelith had felt something again.

Something that felt like love.

And once again….

He had ruined it with his own hands.

The wind howled.

The mountain watched.

And Kaelith, once feared and revered, wept for a woman he could never save.