Then why lie about him?
The thought roared in silence.
The crucifix's voice followed it, not spoken but felt—a coiling judgment that never really left. Just hovered beneath the surface, waiting.
Naive.
The same trust that had pushed him to shatter his shard. That had made him reach out to Kikaru in the arena and end up with her spear in his chest. That had cost him Dot, and maybe something deeper.
He drew in a breath through his nose. Let it out slow.
It didn't calm him. But it kept him from cracking.
His gaze lifted, locking on Geras across the table.
Test him. But don't break.
"What did he do?" Elias asked, voice low. "Exactly."
No anger. Just pressure. Pulled tight like thread between fingers.
"You mention him a lot," he added. "But never the specifics."
The question didn't hang long.
Geras's lips twitched—not quite a smile, not quite reflex. Just the shadow of something that had meant more once.
