Chapter 118

Owen

The night was heavy, thick with the scent of rain that hadn’t fallen yet, hanging in the air like it was waiting for something to break. I could feel the humidity sticking to my skin, the soft kind of heat that you couldn’t shake off.

Up here, on the roof, everything felt different. The world below was small—almost like a toy set—and I could pretend that I was far away from the mess. But in my gut, I knew I wasn’t. It was always there. The weight of it.

The roof creaked a little beneath me as I settled down against the edge, legs dangling over the side, my hands gripping the rough shingles.

I stared at the moon, bright and cold against the sky. It was full tonight, and the glow made everything else fade into the background—quiet, like the night itself was holding its breath.

My eyes narrowed on it’s light. Was it true what Abigail had said? That the Moon Goddess really hated men? Me?

I shook my head. Whatever. I never did anything to some goddess, I never needed her before and I don’t need her now.

I should’ve been inside, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that if I wasn’t out here, I might miss something.

The sound of heavy footsteps crunched on shingles, breaking the silence. It wasn’t until the silhouette of a massive figure loomed behind me that I turned.

Mark.

I knew he was there, of course. He had a way of moving that felt like the ground itself was shaking beneath him. Mark, my uncle. A silent wall of muscle and scar tissue, towering over me like a mountain. His tail and ear flickered curiously as he crawled out the window, barely fitting through.

He didn’t say anything, just plopped down on the roof beside me with the same ease he had moving anything else.

“Why are you out here?” I asked, not expecting him to answer.

Mark just looked at me, his big hand pressing into the roof for balance. His eyes were soft, yet distant—like he could see something I couldn’t. I knew that look, and it made my stomach twist.

He answered, even if he didn’t speak. It wasn’t ike he spoke in my head, it was more like I just knew. Like how I sometimes just knew what Abigail was thinking.

“You had a nightmare of your mom dying again?” I said softly, watching his face. He nodded, just once, his gaze flicking to the sky like he was searching for answers out there. My heart clenched a little. “I’m sorry.”

He didn’t need to say anything back. He didn’t actually talk unless he had to.

He gave me a look, asking me why I was out here.

I hesitated, the words tumbling out of my mouth before I could stop them. “I’m out here… because I’m worried about Abigail. I think she has been sneaking out but I can’t prove it. I’m worried. About Theo. That he’s gonna come back for her. That he’s gonna hurt her again. I can feel it.”

Mark didn’t answer, but he nudged me with his elbow, a soft nudge like he was reassuring me. I could see it in his eyes—he was waiting for me to speak more, waiting for me to open up.

I rubbed the back of my neck, feeling the weight of everything press down on me. “I—” I swallowed hard, my voice shaking slightly. “Enough about me. What about you?”

This time, he really didn’t reply.

I pressed on. “You know, I was wondering if you remember anything before... before the cage in the basement. Before everything got messed up. You know, before all of this. What really happened for you to be locked up down there? Or… was there no reason? Was it just because you were different? Like me when I was young?”

There was a long silence. Mark stared ahead, his jaw clenched, eyes distant like he was deep in thought. Then, after what felt like forever, he finally did something unexpected. He opened his mouth. But nothing came out. Just a breath of air, empty.

And then, slowly, he mouthed one word. “Scary.”

I blinked, staring at him. My chest tightened. I haven’t heard his real voice often. So when he mouthed something, it hit differently.

I looked down at my hands, trying to process what he said. “Yeah. People don’t like what they can’t understand. It feels… unfair, doesn’t it? Why does the moon goddess hate us?” I muttered. “I mean... what did we do to deserve all of this? All the... the curses and the messed-up stuff? I struggled so much as a kid to even learn to speak, use utensils, to express myself was a war… I had no friends and I—”

I stopped, knowing Mark had it so much worse with a sigh.

Mark just shrugged, his shoulders rising and falling, a simple gesture that said everything and nothing at once. He didn’t understand it either. He’d never get it. I’d never get it. No one did.

I leaned back a little, staring up at the moon again. It was a strange thing, the moon. It always seemed to watch us with something close to pity.

Maybe that’s why I liked being out here, in the open, beneath it. If the moon could see us, it was like we were seen, forced to look at what she hated.

“So…how does it feel?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. “Having a sister now? Does it... does it feel like you’re responsible for her?”

Mark paused, thinking, his brow furrowing slightly. He was usually as unmovable as the earth beneath our feet. But here, now, under the pale light of the moon, there was something else in his eyes—a kind of vulnerability I never thought I’d see in someone like him, like he was understanding everything I said.

Thanks to Gingi, he’d made progress in that.

He nodded once, placing his massive hand on my shoulder, the weight of it grounding me. The gesture was simple, but it was enough. More than enough. I didn’t need him to say anything more. He didn’t need words. Not when I could feel what he was trying to tell me.

I felt a lump rise in my throat, and I had to swallow it down. “I feel like I haven’t been a good brother,” I said, the words slipping out before I could stop them. “Abigail... she’s been hurt. And it’s my fault. I should’ve stopped her. I should’ve done something. But I don’t... I don’t know how to say no to her, Mark. She does whatever she wants, and I let her. I just... let her.”

Mark’s grip on my shoulder tightened, but he didn’t say a word. It was like he was telling me it was okay, even though the guilt still hung in the air, thick and heavy, like the storm that hadn’t yet broken.

I let out a shaky breath, rubbing my face with my hands. “I don’t know how to be a good brother. I don’t know how to protect her like I should. I was just so... happy to have a real mother, a sister.

But now, I don’t even know how to keep both of them safe and happy at the same time. How do you say no to something you’ve wanted for so long? I don’t want her to hate me, but she keeps doing these dangerous things, and I— I just don’t know what to do. I can’t stop her…”

I could feel Mark’s arm wrap around me suddenly, pulling me close, and for the first time in as long as I could remember, I didn’t feel like I was carrying the weight of the world alone. It was weird, in a good way. Mark was like a giant shadow, always there, even when he didn’t speak.

I leaned into him, my face buried in his shirt, and he held me like I was the only thing that mattered in that moment.

His low voice rumbled, “Too young… for this.”

After a long while, I pulled away, wiping my face quickly, hoping Mark didn’t see how close I’d come to breaking down. “Thanks Mark.”

He nodded and our attention turned back to the moon.

“Well, even if she doesn’t like us…” I tossed a thump to the circle in the sky. “I’m thankful she saved my sister. And Mom.”

Mark nodded, slow and steady, as though he agreed with me. And that was enough. I didn’t need to be saved, I just needed to look after what I could, handle it. Like Dad did.

We stayed there for a while, looking at the moon together. No more words. No need for more. Just the silence of the night and the comfort of knowing that, somehow, we were both still here even if we weren’t supposed to be.

Roof and all.