"And Lucavion stepped in," Cedric said.
"It was the case, wasn't it?"
Cedric's stare darkened in an instant—hard, cold, protective in a way that no longer felt comforting but sharp enough to flinch against.
"Intervened," he repeated. "You mean he inserted himself into someone else's problem to look like a savior."
Elara's breath hitched. "Cedric—"
"No," he cut in, tone clipped, almost scathing. "Don't tell me he's suddenly a hero. That's not him. It never was."
She swallowed, her fingers curling almost imperceptibly at her sleeves. She hadn't called Lucavion anything close to a hero. She had merely stated what she saw. But Cedric was already spiraling down the path shaped by his own memories.
"He doesn't act for others unless he gains something," Cedric continued, heat creeping back into his voice. "Maybe he was saving face. Maybe he wanted leverage. Or maybe he just enjoys meddling where he shouldn't. But don't—Elara, don't entertain the idea that he did it out of kindness."
