Chapter 315: They say blood is thicker than water, Theo

Alias sat cross-legged on the mat, his butt still giving a sharp, throbbing reminder of the intensity of the night before. He didn’t mind the discomfort; it was a reminder of the

love

he had made with Theo.

He turned his head toward Kael, whose tiny fingers were still clamped tightly onto his knees.

"Kael," Alias said softly, the name smooth and light in his mouth. "Come. Let us see if Maya has left any fruit from yesterday."

The boy didn’t move at first. His blue eyes, so strikingly identical to the man who had just bolted out the door, darted toward the kitchen and then back to Alias’s silver hair.

Slowly, with a hesitation that spoke of a short life filled with unexpected blows, he let his legs uncurl. He didn’t stand, but he crawled a few inches closer to Alias’s side, his small shoulder lightly brushing against Alias’s arm.

Alias didn’t push him. He simply reached out, his long fingers picking up a small, sweet fig from a wooden bowl on the low table, and placed it gently in Kael’s lap.

"Don’t worry. I’ll take care of you."

Over the next four days, a strange, silent dance established itself within the golden walls of the house.

Alias became the center of Kael’s small world. The boy remained fiercely mute, his voice locked away behind a wall of shyness and old fears, but he communicated with his eyes.

Whenever Maya tried to teach him how to sort the red lentils from the black ones, Kael would do the task perfectly, but his gaze would constantly track Alias as the silver-haired man swept the resin-scented floors.

Maya was his playmate—loud, bright, and easy to understand—but Alias was his teacher and anchor.

Theo, meanwhile, was like a ghost in his own home.

He couldn’t face the boy without the heavy, suffocating weight of his past pressing into his lungs. He couldn’t face Alias without remembering the raw, desperate heat of their reconciliation on the mats.

He was a man suspended between intense devotion and deep-seated shame.

But he couldn’t stay away completely.

On the third afternoon, while the sun was baking the outer dunes into a white glare, Alias was sitting under the shade of the broad-leafed fig trees near the water, showing Kael how to press colored clay into smooth shapes.

Alias was fully aware of the rustle in the high fronds behind them. He didn’t look up, but his sharp senses picked up the heavy scent of sweat and cedar wood.

Theo was there. He was standing behind the trunk of a massive palm tree, his large hand resting against the rough bark, his blue eyes fixed entirely on the boy. He watched the way Kael’s small brow furrowed in concentration—the exact same way his own brow furrowed when he was measuring timber.

He watched Alias reach over and gently correct the boy’s posture, a soft chuckle escaping his lips when Kael accidentally flattened his clay lizard, and the boy pouted.

Alias let the silence linger, intentionally keeping his movements slow, acting as the bridge between the hidden father and the watchful son. He knew Theo was listening. He knew Theo was trying to figure out how to piece his life back together without breaking the fragile glass of their new reality.

After a few long minutes, the rustle in the trees faded as Theo retreated back toward the fences, his boots heavy in the sand. Alias looked at the spot where the man had been hiding and gave a small, knowing smile.

They say blood is thicker than water, Theo.

Alias thought.

Please understand.

But things were confined like that for a while, and only on the fifth night did a shift occur, and it came with the violence of the desert sky.

The weather within the oasis didn’t follow the laws of the vast, dry expanse surrounding it. It had its own pulse, its own seasons.

By nightfall, the air grew thick, the wind whistling through the cracks of the wooden window frames with a low, mournful howl.

It was going to rain soon, and it came sooner than anyone expected.

The sky literally split open.

A massive crack of thunder rattled the very foundation of the sandstone house, followed by a torrent of heavy, drumming rain that slammed against the roof. It was a fierce, localized storm, the lightning flashing in sharp, blue-white sheets that illuminated the dark rooms like midday.

From the small corner mat in the living room, a sharp, choked sob broke through the noise of the rain.

Kael came scrambling into Theo’s room, his small feet thudding frantically against the woven mats. He didn’t care about the coldness he had felt before; he was terrified, and he was running towards his light.

He opened the door and threw his small body directly into Alias’s lap, his little arms wrapping around Alias’s neck with a desperate, iron grip.

He was shaking violently, his face buried deep in the fabric of Alias’s tunic as another roll of thunder boomed directly overhead.

"Shh," Alias murmured, his own arms coming around the boy’s trembling back. He rocked him gently, his silver hair falling over Kael’s shoulders like a protective curtain. "It is just water, Kael. The roof is strong. It will not fall."

But Alias’s frame was lithe and slender. No matter how tightly he held the boy, his arms couldn’t block out the massive, terrifying shadows the lightning cast through the wide window.

Every time the room flashed blue, Kael jolted, his small fingers digging painfully into Alias’s shoulders, his breath coming in short, hysterical gasps. He needed more than comfort; he needed a wall.

Alias looked up through the darkness of the room.

Theo was sitting on the edge of the bed, his large frame rigid, his face illuminated by the intermittent flashes of the storm.

His blue eyes were wide, staring at the small, shaking bundle of his own flesh and blood clinging to the man he loved. The coldness in his gaze was gone for a moment, replaced by a raw, helpless conflict.

"Theo," Alias called softly over the roar of the rain.

Theo blinked, his jaw tightening. "Alias, he’s... he’s terrified of the light. In the Ward, sandstorms rarely happen, but when it does, the roofs collapse. He thinks the house is going to break."

Alias looked back at the trembling figure in his arms. This was his first time experiencing a thunderstorm and rain, so it must have frightened him.

"My arms are too small, Theo," Alias said, raising his head and his silver eyes locked onto Theo’s with an absolute, unyielding intensity. "I can hold his heart, but I cannot block out the dark. Your chest is wide. Your arms are strong. You should move closer to protect him."