The Sunspire sometimes young is idiot-adjacent.

As long as he doesn't come back. That wasn't fair, but Screech knew he couldn't protest - at least Redshank was alive. But he was still frustrated and to hear that his best friend would be denied everything because of this stupid mistake only made him more antsy, and he couldn't look at Liffey as she spoke. He could hear the underlying current of hurt to her voice. The fact of the matter was simple: they were afraid of Moonspear just like he was, and they were a potential target for their own actions. He realized in this moment that they wouldn't be any safer with him around — Screech would only bring disaster to their doorstep, if he hadn't already.

Do you not trust me? Liffey quietly, sadly asked. It sounded so unlike her that Screech lifted his head as if to look at a newcomer to the conversation, but he was met with his sister's face and the tumult of her emotions. The boy's jaw tightens, he feels his blood still running hot, yet he manages to hold his tongue. He wants to say no but at the same time Screech doesn't want to wholly cripple her. He is angry right now and doesn't know if he can trust Rannoch after all, but that isn't her fault. None of this is really anyone's fault. Then he realizes, It isn't you, it's him. Rannoch. The idealized image of a protector and big brother; in truth he was neither of these things anymore, not to Screech. Redshank was right — not the attempting to kill him part — I should've known he'd never care about us anymore. Not when he's so obviously moved on.

And left the rest of them behind.