Light of the Dawn

5. The Shattering

Isarella stood motionless in the dim hallway, her fingers trembling by her side. She had barely gathered the resolve to face the world outside her quarters when the sudden grip on her wrist had yanked her into the room. Her heart still thundered in her chest, the adrenaline burning through her veins as she stared at the familiar boots before her.

When she dared to look up, her breath hitched. Perseus. Her father. The man she had lost.

His presence felt both like a blow and a balm. She had dreamed of this moment, prayed for it during nights when the darkness threatened to consume her. Yet now, seeing him felt unbearable. It was too much. Her knees wavered, her body locking in place as though even her muscles refused to process the reality before her.

"Isa?" His voice was softer than she remembered, but no less commanding.

The sound of her name from his lips cracked her composure further. Her eyes darted to the floor, her fists clenched tightly at her sides. She couldn't bear to look at him—not fully. The weight of guilt, of shame, bore down on her. She had failed him, failed everyone.

She heard the gentle rustle of fabric as he knelt before her, but still, she refused to lift her gaze.

"Isa, please," Perseus said, his voice trembling with raw emotion. "It's me. It's your father. I'm here, my love."

Tears welled in her eyes, spilling over before she could blink them away. Her throat tightened as the words clawed their way out. "I can't look at you. You... you can't be real. You have to be a dream."

Her voice cracked, the confession spilling forth unbidden. Her chest heaved with silent sobs. How many times had her mind conjured this? The cruel trick of imagining her family, her court, whole and happy? How often had she yearned to hear his voice, only for it to fade into a taunting echo?

But his hand—his hand was warm, solid, and rough as it gently took hers. Her eyes flicked downward, catching sight of his calloused knuckles, the dried blood and grime that painted his skin. A sob ripped free from her chest.

"Dad?" she whispered, the word trembling on her lips.

The sound of his answering sob undid her entirely. "It's me, Isa. I don't have much time, my love. Oh, how I've missed you—"

She couldn't let him finish. She dropped to her knees, throwing her arms around him, clinging to him as though he might vanish at any moment. Her tears soaked into the fabric of his shirt, and she felt his arms tighten around her in return.

Perseus' shoulders shook with his own grief. "Oh, my little girl," he murmured, his voice breaking. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry I couldn't protect you from her. I couldn't stop her from hurting you. I failed you, Isa. I failed you."

"No!" she cried, shaking her head violently against his shoulder. "No, Dad. You didn't fail me. If you had tried, she would have killed you. I couldn't have survived that. I couldn't have survived losing you." Her voice cracked, her sobs making her words barely intelligible. "Please, don't blame yourself for my pain."

He pulled back just enough to cup her face in his hands, but she immediately cast her gaze downward again, her chest heaving with uneven breaths.

"My love, look at me," he urged, his thumbs brushing away her tears. "Let me see you."

Isarella hesitated, squeezing her eyes shut before slowly lifting her head. She forced her eyelids open, her vision blurred by fresh tears.

Perseus leaned forward, pressing a kiss to her forehead. The warmth of it seeped into her, soothing the frigid despair that had taken root in her soul.