Qeya River brother's blood

gjalla did not flinch. the truth sat heavy between them, thick as the tundra fog, a thing unspoken yet wholly understood. and yet, still, she was asked. she did not know why.

her breath curled in the cold, slow and steady, but her heart—her heart was a drumbeat against her ribs, unrelenting, merciless. she had known this moment would come. knew that she could not ignore it, only dig her own grave.

“he is dead.”

she did not dress it in softer words, for there was no way to make it gentle. it settled between like stone, immutable, immovable. she did not look away, did not let her gaze falter under the press of her sister’s grief.

“i killed him.” she had been many things in this life—soldier, executioner, survivor. and yet, standing beneath star eater’s gaze, she found herself bracing for something far worse than battle. she did not know how she would react, not really.