The Awakening

Chapter Forty Five

Avelon's eyes widened as she locked gazes with Ernin. His face mirrored her expression—confusion, disbelief, and a flicker of something she could not quite identify. Hope?

"You're Daghlan?" He repeated, his voice low and laced with worry. His head cocked to the left and his gaze narrowed.

Avelon felt a knot twist in her stomach. Elha's sharp intake of breath was barely audible, but it was enough to send a wave of dread crashing over her. Avelon swallowed hard, her throat tightening as though the air itself was thickening with the weight of this truth. Soon enough, Balor would be informed of her lineage—he would know, and once that happened, it was only a matter of time before she was captured. She would be strapped down, unable to resist, and her life would no longer be her own.

"And what if I was?" Avelon's voice cracked slightly, but she forced the words through her clenched teeth, trying to mask the rising tide of panic. She turned her body toward Ernin, forcing herself to appear unfazed as she tapped each finger against her thumb, the rhythmic movement grounding her for the moment. She called to the air, desperate to stifle the overwhelming sense of helplessness that threatened to swallow her whole.

Ernin would not walk away from them without a fight. Avelon would make sure of it.

Ernin's nostrils flared, his eyes fixed on her, as if he could sense her struggle. "If you were... and I heard right, it would mean that you could stop my father."

Avelon hesitated, her brow furrowing as confusion and suspicion danced across her features.

"You are the same as your brother," She whispered through gritted teeth, her voice laced with bitterness and a betrayal she could not hide.

"You think you could distract me. Say just the right words and convince me to let my guard down."

Elha straightened, her spine rigid as she darted glances between Avelon and Ernin.

"You think," Avelon lifts a finger, pointing at Ernin, "That your casual interruption into our conversation was not planned."

Dry, emotionless laughter erupts from Avelon. Ernin patiently watches her. "And you," Avelon spun toward Elha, her eyes narrowing.

"You expect me to fall into your story as well, believing every word." The air thickened with tension, but Avelon refused to let it sway her. Her pulse throbbed in her ears, and the sting of betrayal from Lugh—a sharp, bitter wound—lingered just beneath the surface.

Avelon's fingers clenched at her sides, a strangled laugh escaping her lips, brittle and strained. he felt a tremor in her hands, but she fought it down. She could not afford to lose control—not here, not now.

Dana confirmed the betrayal from those surrounding her, and yet she clung to a speck of hope.

"I'm so sick of- " Avelon's voice broke, and her words threatened to spill into a torrent of emotion. She had no idea what she wanted to say, but the anger, the hurt, the crushing disappointment—everything she had held back suddenly clawed at her.

"Look," Ernin interjected, his tone cutting through her spiralling thoughts. He raised his hand, a simple gesture, but one that seemed to silence her momentarily. Avelon clenched her jaw and turned her head toward him, her breath shallow, her heartbeat quickening.

"I don't know what the hell has been going on around here," Ernin continued, his voice steady but laced with frustration, "But I do know this—I want no part in whatever my father is trying to do."

Avelon arched an eyebrow, a mocking smile curling her lips as she crossed her arms. "Right. Do indulge me, Ernin. What exactly are you going to do about it?"