The Price Of Fate
Something soft and familiar that belonged to quiet mornings, old blankets, careful hands, and the little home where I had learned love could exist even when the world outside the door hated you.
My eyes burned. I breathed her in and almost sobbed. I had found her. After the journal. After the battlefield. After Spiro. After Edenwood’s dead roads. After the wound between worlds. After Ashvale and wraith-touched things and the claw marks on Ronan’s back. After every terrible thought that she might be dead, chained, hurt, hunted, or calling my name somewhere I could not reach. I had found her. Or maybe she had found her way here before I could. Either way, she was in my arms.