[Leo's POV]
The door to my room clicked shut behind me, and the silence swallowed me whole.
I didn't bother turning on the lights. The afternoon sun was still filtering through the curtains, golden and warm, casting long shadows across the floor that seemed to stretch and shift as the clouds outside drifted past.
I walked to my bed and sat down on the edge, my shoulders heavy and my head bowed and my hair falling across my face like a curtain that I didn't have the energy to push aside.
Tempest was still in my hand.
I didn't remember drawing the sword again after Father had grabbed my wrist, but there it was, the dark steel gleaming faintly in the afternoon light, the edge still sharp enough to split a hair, the weight of it familiar and grounding in a way that nothing else in my life was anymore.
I looked down at the blade, the light played across its surface, and I remembered the flames.
