Chapter 359 The letter 1

Chapter 359: Chapter 359 The letter 1

Talia’s POV

I woke to sunlight streaming through the window.

The light crept across the floor in slow, golden ribbons, pooling on the wooden boards like liquid honey. It was the kind of light that made everything feel softer, gentler, like the world was wrapped in a warm embrace.

The morning light was warm and golden, and it fell across my face like a gentle touch. I blinked, and I felt the warmth of Kaelen’s body beside me. His arm was still draped across my waist, and I could feel his steady breathing against my back.

The world outside was peaceful, and for a moment, I let myself pretend that nothing had changed.

I could hear the birds singing outside, and I could feel the gentle breeze coming through the window. The curtains stirred softly, and the light danced across the walls. It was the kind of morning that made you forget about everything else, the kind of morning that made you believe that the world was still good.

But the peace did not last. The vision was still there, lurking at the edges of my mind. I could still see Malachai’s black eyes and his cruel smile. I could still hear his voice, cold and sharp, echoing in my ears.

I pressed my hand against my chest, and I could still feel the coldness that had settled there during the vision. It was like a shadow that had wrapped itself around my heart.

I could still feel its cold fingers squeezing, still feel the darkness pressing against the edges of my soul. It was not the same as fear, it was something deeper, something that had burrowed into my chest and made its home there.

And I did not know if it would ever fully leave. I had faced so many things, but Malachai was different. He was not just an enemy. He was the end of everything if we failed.

I sat up slowly, and I felt the weight of the day ahead. We had to tell the pack about the vision.

The thought of standing in front of them, of speaking the words out loud, made my stomach twist. I had faced so many things, but telling them that their enemy was stronger than we had imagined, that the fight ahead would be harder than any of us had prepared for, felt like a weight I was not sure I could carry.

We had to prepare for the battle, and we had to face what was coming.

There was so much to do, and I did not know where to start.

Kaelen stirred beside me, and I felt his hand reaching for mine. "Talia," Kaelen said, and his voice was soft with sleep. "Are you okay?"

I looked at him, and I tried to smile. "I am fine, Kaelen. Just thinking."

Kaelen sat up, and I felt his arm wrapping around my shoulders. "Thinking about what, Talia?"

I leaned into him, and I felt the warmth of his body against mine.

I closed my eyes, and I let myself feel the steady beat of his heart against my back.

The rhythm was slow and unhurried, the way it always was when he was still caught between sleep and waking. It reminded me that he was here, that he was real, that he was mine, and that no vision or enemy could take that away from me.

It was grounding, reminding me that I was not alone. I had him, and I had my pack, and I had my mother. I had everything I needed to face what was coming.

"I am thinking about everything," I said. "I am thinking about the vision, about Malachai, and about the battle that is coming. About all the things we still have to do."

Kaelen pressed his lips to my forehead. "We will get through this, Talia. We have faced worse."

I nodded, but I could not shake the feeling that there was something else weighing on me. And it was something I had been avoiding for too long. I had been so focused on the future, on the battle, on preparing for Malachai, that I had not allowed myself to look back. But now, I could not ignore it any longer.

"Kaelen," I said, and my voice was barely a whisper. "Do you think my father ever thinks about me?"

The question had been sitting in the back of my mind for weeks, and growing heavier with each passing day. I had tried to push it down, to bury it beneath the preparations and the training and the constant motion of the stronghold. But it kept surfacing, and kept demanding to be felt.

Kaelen was quiet for a moment, and I could feel him processing my question. "I do not know, Talia," Kaelen admitted. "I do not know what goes on in his mind."

I shook my head, and I felt the tears burning in my eyes. "I have been thinking about him a lot lately. About everything he did, and everything he did not do. About how he let Vivienne destroy our family, and about how he let her hurt me."

Kaelen held me tighter, and I felt his hand on the back of my head. "Talia, you do not have to think about him if it hurts you." He said.

I shook my head again. "But I need to, Kaelen. I need to understand, I need to know why he did it."

I needed to know if he had ever looked at me and felt pride, if he had ever held me and felt love, or if he had ever thought of me as anything other than a burden. I needed to know if the man I remembered from my childhood was real, or if he had only ever been a ghost wearing my father’s face.

And I need to know if he ever loved me at all." I replied.

Kaelen was quiet for a moment. "And what if you never get those answers, Talia?" He asked.

I looked at him, and I felt the tears streaming down my face. "Then I need to say what I need to say. I need to let him know that I survived, I need to let him know that I found Mother, and I need to let him know that I am not the broken girl he abandoned."

Kaelen looked at me, and I saw the understanding in his gray eyes. "Then write to him, Talia."

I stared at him. "Write to him?" I asked.

Kaelen nodded. "Write to him, and tell him what you need to tell him. Even if he never reads it, you will have said what you needed to say. That is what matters."

I was quiet for a moment, and I felt the weight of Kaelen’s words settling in my chest.

I looked down at my hands, and I saw them trembling. I had faced Malachai’s guards without flinching, and I had broken silver with my own blood. But writing a letter to my father felt harder than all of that. It felt like opening a wound I had kept closed for too long.

He was right. I needed to say what I needed to say. I needed to let go of the anger, and the pain, and the unanswered questions.

I climbed out of bed, and I walked to my desk. I sat down, and I stared at the blank paper in front of me.

The paper was smooth and white, and it seemed to stare back at me, waiting for me to fill it with words I had been holding inside for years. It was just paper, and just ink, but it felt like so much more. It felt like a door I had been afraid to open, and it felt like a door that led to a room I had kept locked for far too long.

I did not know why I was doing this, and I did not know why I needed to write to him. He had never protected me, he had never loved me, and he had let Vivienne destroy everything.

But I could not stop myself. I needed him to know that I had survived, I needed him to know that I had found my mother, and I needed him to know that I was not the broken girl he had abandoned.

I picked up the quill, and I began to write.