All Chapters of THE SILVER LINING: Chapter 81 - Chapter 90

The days ran into one another. Time passed in the Citadel, but Miyal felt every passing moment stretching, as if his bones were imprisoned in an unyielding grip. There was no room for him to catch his breath, no release from the burden of being Alpha. The council, where once he used to sit and strategize with fellow visionaries, now came across as a court of vultures, all of whom were waiting for him to crash. He could sense their gaze, laden with judgment and anticipation, perpetually upon him.The Citadel was different. Its citizens, damaged by the plague, tormented by the memory of Perfera's cruel domination, were still recovering—but with doubts. Doubts about him. Doubts about the future. And why not? He'd let them down. He'd let Krishna down.Miyal's every move was burdened with that knowledge. In the council hallways, he struggled to maintain a steady voice as he went through the motions of leadership. Ancient plans needed to be reworked, new commands needed to be given, and the

Miyal remained frozen, his gaze fixed on the shadow where Ignatius had vanished. The biting wind pushed against him, an unspoken reminder that the world went on while his heart remained stuck in time. The last words of Ignatius resonated in his mind, cutting and absolute, but they could not eliminate the hurt. They could not forget Krishna.He was aware that he needed to move forward. The Citadel required it. The people required him to be the leader they once thought he was. He needed to lay aside the specters of the past of Krishna, of the Citadel before the plague and look to the future.As the wind grew stronger, causing him to shiver, Miyal felt an overwhelming reality solidify in his chest.How could he forget Krishna when every nook of this compound was riddled with memories of her?Everything seemed haunted in the garden, in the city streets, in the council chambers by her presence. Krishna's laughter, her voice, the way she had always believed in him and them, despite everythi

Miyal's eyes burned from the poison of Ignatius's words, but they were not sufficient to shatter him. Not yet. Miyal did not know what it was about Ignatius's calm, measured voice that unsettled him. It was not that Ignatius was wrong. He was right, and Miyal had been denying, even avoiding, it for too long.But would he just release Krishna? Let her slip through his fingers and not try to grab hold of her one last time? Not let her know that he had transformed, that he was no longer the same man, that he had changed?Ignatius, Miyal's voice was harsh, but his will remained unbroken, "I know you think you see. But you don't. Krishna's different from the others. I won't I can't let her go like that. Not when there's hope."."Chasing ghosts will not save the Citadel, Miyal." Ignatius's voice was stern, but there was sorrow to it, as if he mourned something lost too. "You can't bring someone back to something they've left behind."The two men stood silently, the weight of the city's brok

The breeze also appeared to be bearing their silent thoughts as it blew softly through the leaves, the soft rustle a muted sound track to the weight that now hung between them. Neither of them spoke for a bit, and the world outside them also seemed to wait, waiting perhaps for them to discover a way on, perhaps for them to embrace the silence that had been their own language.Krishna breathed slowly, allowing the gravitas of what she was saying settle in the air between them. It was odd, this feeling of being suspended between two realities, between the destruction of what they had lost and the promise of what was to be had. She was a woman always to have held on to hope, however frail it might be, but there was something different between Ignatius's eyes now a change that resonated through her own turmoil."You know," she said finally, her voice softer now, "we can just keep looking ahead, keep working on trying to rebuild, but we can't forget the cost we've paid. The ones we've lost

"Let's see what we can create," Krishna whispered to herself, but Ignatius caught it, and something in him awakened, lighter now than it had been in years."Anyway, Krishna, do you still love Miyal?" Ignatius declared with a weary heart, for he loved Krishna so dearly.The question lay there, delicate yet sharp, still wind whispering a quiet tremor. Krishna's breath was caught, and for a short, suspended moment, time stretched, pulling them back into memories they had long buried.She shifted slowly to turn to him, the heat of the sun on her skin, but his words weighted on her like a stone against her chest. There had been something raw, something vulnerable in Ignatius's voice when he spoke them, and it shocked her, caught her off balance in ways she had not expected. The vulnerability in his eyes, the unspoken admission, was a gift, a fragile, breakable thing.For an instant, Krishna's eyes softened, and her thoughts danced back to the past, to those times when Miyal had been more t