I returned to Erik empty-handed, trudging through the thick, untouched snow. Each step felt heavier than the last, the cold biting into my boots, matching the dull ache pooling in my chest. My head hung low, eyes unfocused, like the world had dimmed around me. I’d made a stupid mistake—a heartless, thoughtless mistake—and now all I could feel was this pit of regret hollowing me out from the inside. It was like I’d shattered something fragile, something that can’t ever be put back the same way.

Erik looked up as I approached, an instinctive alertness in his eyes. “Where’s your kindling?” he asked, already sensing something was off.

I lifted my head, forcing a shrug. “Oh… I forgot.”

His brow furrowed. That was all it took. I could tell the alarm in him had gone off—the one that only ever rang when his kids were hurting. He set down his axe and crossed the few steps between us.

“Kam?” His voice softened. “Something the matter, son?”

I sank onto a nearby log, the frozen bark biting through my clothes. I buried my face in my hands, trying to hide from the shame blooming in my chest.

“Have you ever made a mistake?” I muttered; my voice muffled. “One so big it hurts to even think about it? Hurts worse than whatever it was you did?”

“Too many…” Erik replied sombrely with a slight sigh.

“How did you fix it?” I mumbled again, peeking at him from the side of my hands.

Erik sat beside me, and exhaled slowly, “I never did, some of my mistakes are too big, I’m still seeing the effects of them today…” He rubs the back of his neck gently, over his Legion Brand.

“There’s nothing you can do Kam, what’s done is done, you can try to fix them, but there will always be evidence of your mistake, like when your mom breaks a plate, she can try and put it back together, but there are still cracks. Your mistakes put little cracks in you Kam, some might break you, I know they have for me, but you can always pull yourself back together. A plate stuck back together is still able to be eaten off of. We all have our own little cracks, some bigger than others, but they make you who you are, it makes you unique to everyone else, and that’s something meaningful. Whatever thing you did Kam, if you regret it that badly, you won’t ever do it again, it put a crack in you, a reminder.”

“What if I… what if I put a crack in someone else?” I asked, my voice trembling with guilt I could barely swallow.

Erik shifted closer and gently draped his arm across my shoulders, the weight of it grounding, reassuring.

“Did you mean to?” he asked softly.

“No,” I whispered. My body tensed beneath his touch. “I didn’t…” My voice broke, and I turned away, ashamed to be seen.

“Then that’s a crack you can still fix,” he said, rubbing small, calming circles on my back. His hand rested lightly on my head, a gesture so simple, so fatherly, it nearly undid me.

In that moment, I felt it—a flicker of warmth blooming in my chest, fragile and unfamiliar. Was this what a father’s love felt like? That quiet kind of strength, the kind that didn't need to be earned?

But Erik… it's wasted on me.

I’m not your real son. I’m an echo. A mimic. An imposter wearing your child’s skin. And the cracks I’ve already made—the ones on her, on myself, on you—some of them can’t be repaired.

Not completely.

Not ever.