War and Love

Silas moved through the ridge‑line forest like a shadow, boots silent on the frosted pines. Dawn’s thinning light cast steel‑blue shadows across his face, each breath a plume of cold air and rage that burned hotter.

He stopped at a ,ruined cairn,the place he and his wife had first met, and later bound by love. He knelt, fingertips tracing lichen‑crusted stones. The memory came sharp: her laughter, fierce and warm, the promise they’d made to protect their daughters—together.

She’d kept it. The daughters survived. But only one walked freely now.

A low snap of a twig jolted him upright. Heart thundered. His hand tightened on his dagger. No threat—just wind straining through broken branches. Yet his mind roared:

Trixie—alive, defiant.

Trisha—alive, loyal.

His wife—dead, because she shielded Trixie from the rogue attack that should have claimed both.

Anger flared, sharper than the morning frost.

Trixie lives. She shouldn’t have. He pressed the dagger’s flat edge into his palm, the sting ste