The first tear fell before he even realized he was crying.

It hit the ground like a raindrop, silent and unimportant, but it broke something loose in him. Another came, then another. By the time Saelis reached the edge of the woods, his breath was hitching, chest tight, and the tears had begun to spill in earnest—hot, unrelenting, streaking down cheeks flushed with panic and heat.

He tripped.

The moss-covered slope gave out under his heel and sent him sliding down through damp leaves, bare feet slipping, hands tearing through thorns. He didn't stop. Couldn't stop. Not with the thrum in his skull getting louder. Not with the taste of iron at the back of his throat. Not when everything inside him felt like it was about to break open.

I can't hold it back this time. I can't—

The hum was in his bones now, ancient and familiar and wrong. His skin glowed faintly, threads of gold cracking along the lines of his hands like veins lit from within. He squeezed his fingers closed until his nails bit into his palms, trying to make it stop, trying to make himself smaller.

But the prophecy had started to stir.

And Saelis, no matter how many times he swore he wouldn't become the thing they feared, was beginning to feel hollowed out by it.

By the time he stumbled into the clearing, he could barely see.

His vision blurred through the flood of tears, his throat raw from gasping sobs he hadn't realized had become sounds—desperate, guttural sounds that had nothing beautiful left in them. His robes clung to him, torn and muddy, falling off one shoulder. His knees were scraped. His breath came in sharp, helpless bursts.

And there, by the river, just as he'd hoped, was the one person who might understand.

Kneeling by the water's edge, washing linens, sleeves rolled up, the world around them calm and clean and untouched by whatever storm was building in Saelis's chest.

It shattered him.

He dropped to his knees in the mud with a cry that cracked through the silence, both hands clawing at the earth in front of him. His shoulders convulsed with sobs, whole body wracked with trembling, golden light flaring and flickering across his skin like he was coming undone at the seams.

"I—I didn't mean to—" The words came out broken, warped by the sobs that choked him. "I didn't mean to call it—I never wanted—"

His voice gave out. He sucked in a breath but it hitched halfway, catching on the jagged edge of another sob, and he fell forward, palms slapping the mud.

"I c-can't stop it," he gasped, voice hoarse and cracking. "It's coming closer—I feel it—I hear it in my head—like drums—like wings—like screaming under the sea—"

He choked again, and for a moment couldn't even speak. His mouth opened, but nothing came out but a sob so deep it shook through his spine.

"I don't want to be a monster."

The words slipped out like a confession, whispered like a curse. His hands glowed bright for a moment before he curled them into fists and smashed them against the ground in frustration, not hard enough to break earth—but only just.

"I'm scared," he gasped, voice hoarse and cracking. "I'm so scared—"

He lifted his head, face streaked with tears and dirt, eyes wide and glassy, flickering with gold and grief and something dangerously old. His mouth trembled with the effort of keeping himself from crying harder, but another sob slipped free, and he pressed his shaking hands to his face like he could disappear inside them.

"I don't know what to do. Please... please help me. Just tell me I'm still me—tell me I'm not too far gone yet—please—"

He wept, no more words, the sound of it raw and real and terrible, as the river flowed beside them like none of it mattered.