Romy PovMy forehead rested against the cool glass.Outside, the mountains stood black against the night sky, sharp and endless, snow catching silver under the moonlight. Stormveil looked peaceful from up here. Quiet. Untouched.It was a lie.I remembered another mountain once. Smaller. Wilder. Covered in pine and smoke and the sound of children screaming with excitement as they shifted for the first time.I’d been ten.I remembered it in fragments, the afternoon sun in the trees, the way the grass had flattened under small, gangling bodies changing shape for the first time, the yelps and laughs of their parents from the fence. I’d sat just outside the circle of it, my knees in the dirt, and Alina crouched beside me, her hand warm against my back. “Yours is coming, Rom. Your’s is just a little slow.”I’d believed her. Goddess I’d believed her for years, through the remainder of childhood, through the fire, through the Waxmans’ spare room, through the years following it, through the
Zuletzt aktualisiert : 2026-05-13 Mehr lesen