The last omega
He only places a hand on my back — not to stop me, but to keep me tethered.
Cassian dozes beside the fire, head tilted, his hand resting near his sword. Rowan patrols the perimeter, Kevin writes notes by the dim lantern, and Tobias hums softly under his breath, the tune changing with each circuit of the moon.
I look around and think, this is what faith looks like. Not glory, not certainty — just people breaking their bones to protect a miracle too small to defend itself.
The Goddess is watching. I can feel it. Her presence moves like a breeze through the branches, cold but not cruel.
Bab Populer