98- Tears of Stone

  Days passed, and Nexha never stopped.

  Even when the others took breaks to hunt or rest, he kept carving and fitting stones, shaping each block with obsessive precision. He worked from morning to night, only stopping when Zhaelor dragged him home by force.

  With every strike of the chisel, with every stone he set in place, he felt like he was building a barrier between himself and the suffocating fear that refused to leave his mind. He had tried to pretend it wasn’t there, but it always returned.

  Nalu tried many times to make him stop.

  — Little Nexha, you need to rest. Look at your hands, they’re already wounded.

  But he would only mumble something about being almost done and keep going. After many failed attempts, Nalu settled for calling him to dinner more often and tending to his injuries.

  Lilay grew impatient.

  — If you pass out, you’ll just be dead weight for me to carry. Stop being an idiot and go to sleep!

  — It’s nothing. I’ll pay you with some milk—

  — No! You maniac! You think you can buy me off every time?! This isn’t a joke, Nexha! I won’t accept anything when it comes to your health!

  Nexha just averted his gaze and kept working, pretending not to hear. Frustrated and feeling powerless, Lilay started showing up less often to help—but he never stopped watching from a distance, always ready in case his brother collapsed.

  Even Zhaelor, who usually didn’t interfere much when Nexha was focused, showed concern.

  — I brought more stones. But seriously, you need a break. You’re starting to worry me.

  Nexha just thanked him and went back to work, as if nothing else mattered.

  But the truth was, it did matter. It mattered too much.

  Because in the silence of cold nights, the moment he closed his eyes for even a second, he felt that slimy tail squeezing him again. The fear took shape. He saw the mermaid’s starry eyes, heard her venomous voice, felt the helplessness of being trapped.

  Not even in his dreams did that king let him rest. But his speeches were easier to ignore—after all, he always said the same things.

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  His only refuge was building.

  If he stopped, he would think about it. If he stopped, he would have to face the fact that, for the first time in his life, he had truly been attacked.

  So he didn’t stop.

  But his body was not as resilient as his mind stubbornly believed. And one night, he finally broke.

  His hand failed to strike the chisel correctly. The stone cracked the wrong way, a heavy chunk falling onto his foot. The pain wasn’t even that bad, but his body had reached its limit. A crushing exhaustion overtook him, and before he realized it, he was sitting on the ground, his eyes burning. His breath faltered, his heart raced—not from the injury, but from something much deeper, something he couldn’t control.

  That was when he felt a large, firm hand rest on his head.

  Krahs.

  The older triton didn’t speak at first. He simply crouched beside him, observing his state. Nexha squeezed his eyes shut, trying to hold back the tears threatening to fall.

  — You’ve been working hard, — Krahs finally said, his voice calm but firm. — Too hard.

  Nexha bit his lip, tasting the metallic tang of his own blood. His chest rose and fell unevenly, as if every breath was a struggle.

  — I... I need to finish the wall.

  His voice trembled, barely above a whisper, as if saying it aloud was the only thing holding him together.

  — And why the rush?

  Krahs’s voice was gentle, a silent invitation for Nexha to stop running.

  Nexha remained silent. But Krahs waited. He waited patiently until, at last, the boy murmured, barely audible:

  — I don’t want it to happen again.

  Krahs didn’t need to ask what it was. He already knew. He understood all too well the fear Nexha was trying to bury under the weight of the stones. And instead of telling him everything would be fine, instead of saying he was overreacting, he did something very simple.

  He pulled him into a hug.

  — I’m here to make sure it never happens again.

  You don’t have to carry this burden alone, Nexha…

  Because you aren’t alone.

  Nexha froze at first.

  He didn’t cry.

  He never caved.

  But there, against Krahs’s chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, something inside him cracked.

  The first tears came without warning, small and dark, dense like the weight in his chest. But as his silent sobs shook his exhausted body, those tears began to change. As if his suffering was being polished by time and Krahs’s warmth, the dark drops grew lighter, shifting from onyx to pearl. Until, at last, they became clear—like the relief that, for the first time, he was allowing himself to feel.

  Krahs didn’t say anything else. He just held his son tightly, wiping the tears from his face.

  At that moment, nothing was more important to him than making sure Nexha knew he was not alone. That if he cried, someone would be there for him.

  When Nexha finally calmed down, he felt lighter. The fear didn’t vanish completely, but the suffocating grip had loosened. He looked at his injured hands, realizing just how merciless he had been to himself.

  The next morning, he continued his work.

  But this time, it was different.

  He moved slower. Took breaks. Let Lilay and Zhaelor carry the heavier stones instead of insisting on doing everything alone. And when Nalu brought him food, he accepted it without protest.

  The wall would still take time to complete. But now, Nexha understood that he needed that time, too.

  Because a fortress wasn’t just made of stone and strength.

  It was built, above all, by the endurance of those who raised it.