Love You After You Died
Warriors pounded mugs when Rurik entered.
He snapped fingers; music ceased. “Tonight, we welcome Moonfang’s offering.” He motioned Ophelia forward. “Sing.”
Ophelia’s throat tightened. She recalled the lullaby Dylan once traced on her skin with humming lips; the same melody she’d used to soothe her unborn child through nights of uncertainty. She closed her eyes.
“Sleep, little star, on a bed of silver light,
Wolves stand guard through darkest night…”
Her voice, soft but unwavering, drifted over clanging tankards. Conversation dulled; even torch-flames seemed to lean closer. When she finished, silence hung like snowfall.
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