All My Little Words

I’m the reason he changed, aren’t I?

I don’t think I ever said it out loud, but being with him made me feel like I was important—like I was real.

Before the incident, when people looked at me—when they listened, when they told me I was doing good, being brave, being strong—it felt like I mattered. It was him they were seeing, really, but I let myself believe they were seeing me. 

And... for once, I felt good about myself.

But then he faltered.

Or maybe I did.

Suddenly there was nothing left to hold onto, and I had to be alone with myself. The moment that happened I didn’t feel anything—no pride, no identity, not even grief. I didn’t know what to do. I still don’t.

Maybe I’m writing this because it’s the only way I can reach myself—back then, before everything was shut out by a poison veil. I’ve tried everything else.

I keep thinking: if I leave this somewhere, if someone—anyone—reads it, maybe I’ll finally make peace with it. With me.

Please, just let me be okay with myself again.

I feel like an impostor in another Elisa’s skin. Would she consent to any of this? Did I steal her life and superimpose it with my own? Maybe if things had stayed as they were, she wouldn’t have prompted Pauline to come—and maybe so many lives could have been saved.

Is something wrong with me?

Because I know I’ve done horrible things, and I keep doing them—keep making it worse, even when I try not to. Waving away people’s needs here, a bit of ignorance to the plight of villages there.

It was telling when the villagers talked to me. They weren’t angry; they were tired—tired of people like me.

All this pretending, this performing, was just to keep my fantasy alive—the one where I could still be loved by the Count, where I could still believe I was worth something.

All that regret—maybe it drove me to do the unthinkable. And I haven’t stopped. It’s like an addiction: to being needed, to being told I’m worth something, to being loved.

At least now that need has been redirected. It’s something better—healthier—for others, not just me. 

More. 

More, more, more: more love, more forgiveness, more people telling me I mattered. Always more. It’s a curse.

Even now everything in me is screaming: Don’t say this out loud. Don’t show them what kind of person you really are. They’ll hate you. They’ll see you.

What even is left if I let go of needing to be good in other people’s eyes? If I stopped performing worthiness? I can’t imagine that. I don’t know what it would feel like to be loved without deserving it first.

...

I think I have to go, and I’m sorry. I said I’d be here. I said I’d fight with you.

But there’s still so much in me that needs fixing. There’s so much I need to apologize for—with Kael, and more besides. I’ve hurt people I was trying to save. I’ve lied. I’ve compromised. I’ve buried the parts of myself I couldn’t reconcile with being a hero. I buried you.

I will continue to let you be buried. And now that he sees all of me, sees what I did for my own gain—warped him in my image. The scared girl, the coward, the traitor. Now that he’s seen it and still stayed... I don’t know what to do with that.

So I’m going to try.

I travel now to Kael’s lands. Apparently I’m to meet the matriarch of the entire family tree that manages the Blac’hil reputation—a congratulatory banquet, a ribbon tie, a year after everything finally settled.

Apparently the whole system is matriarchal by nature, at least for the vampire demons. How exciting.

But for now I’ll try to be someone who doesn’t need to bleed for every ounce of kindness—someone who can love without needing to earn it.

I don’t know what comes next.

But I want to find out.

\\

Elisa closed the page, placing the binder gently on her lap. It was a wonder she could write at all, with the carriage rocking the way it did.

Kael watched her for a long moment. “Are you alright, my love?”

She met his eyes—then looked away again, studying his outfit instead. Traditional demonkin garb, but with the distinct spice of Highcliff: a pair of finely etched earrings, probably bartered at a back-alley stall. The fusion was ridiculous. Endearing. Him.

“I don’t know,” she said softly. “Do I look okay to you?”

Kael tilted his head, searching her expression. “You’re here. That counts for something.”

Elisa exhaled, fingers brushing the edge of the binder. “Honestly… I feel down most days,” she admitted, still not looking at him. “It’s not something you can fix alone. I don’t know how you stay so composed. How does something like this not even phase you?”

Kael kept his gaze fixed on the carriage window, watching trees blur into fog. “Women are more in touch with their emotions,” he said eventually. “At least, that’s what my sister used to tell me.”

Elisa let out a faint scoff. “Sounds like we'd get along swimmingly..."

“Being the only male of my generation in this corner of the bloodline, I am certainly the disappointment of the family. But also the prettiest, so it is little wonder they were so pressed in their invitation letter…”

The carriage creaked to a halt. Neither of them moved right away.

Eventually, Elisa opened the door. They stepped down together.

The wind caught her coat as she straightened, spine taut with ceremony. She drew one hand across her chest in a loose half-circle, then lowered it to her side with practiced grace.

“Elisa Blac’hil,” she said clearly. “Bound of treaty and accord. I come in good faith, with no weapon drawn, no blood to claim.”

Kael exhaled beside her. “So you do remember all the formalities.”

“Barely,” she muttered from the corner of her mouth. “Just fake it till you make it.”

“Kael!”

A voice rang out ahead—sharp, theatrical. What Elisa presumed was his sister descended the wide steps of the towering castle.

She approached with arms outstretched, all affection on the surface, but her eyes were clinical—measuring Kael like a seamstress judging a fraying hem.

“You look…” she began, smiling in a way that didn’t reach her eyes.

“Can it.”

“Aww… you never let me have fun.”

“You could at least pretend to care, sister. Not to be a total whore, but a really long hug and some reassurance would not be unwelcome.”

“I forget how small your mind can be sometimes. Nor how stubborn…”

Kael sighed. “My sister never misses an opportunity to demean me. You’ll see what I mean.”

Elisa leaned in, voice low. “Didn’t your parents only have you?”

“Sisters and brothers aren’t always born. In the Houses, it’s more... fluid. Cousins, wards, political ties—if you’re raised together, you’re siblings. Technically.”

“Sounds complicated.”

He smiled, but said nothing. The gates opened ahead of them.

“Now that we have finished with pleasantries…” he murmured. “We have Highcliff to negotiate for.”

END