Sariah stood just beyond the veil of Veinlight, her figure half-shadowed by the rising mist that threaded through the trees like memory made visible.
Dain stopped first. Thalen remained a step behind, his silence deliberate, his presence heavy but restrained. Neither of them spoke.
She didn’t move.
The stillness between them was not empty. It was thick with things that had never been said.
“You made it,” Sariah said, her voice even, but not without edge. Her eyes didn’t soften. Not for either of them.
Dain stepped forward. “I wasn’t sure you wanted me to.”
“I didn’t,” she replied. “But the Vein did.”
That stung more than he expected. He caught Thalen glance at him, then back to her, as if calculating which words wouldn’t explode on contact.
“I didn’t come to challenge you,” Dain said quietly.
Sariah’s gaze swept over him. “No. You came to see if what you saw was real. If I were still the woman who chose exile over submission.”
“I came because you never asked anyone to understand you.”
