My body was lighter here too. Unburdened by the pregnancy that made every movement feel like negotiation. In dreams, I could lean against this railing without my back aching, without the burden of my body’s new changes weighing on me.
In dreams, I was only Selena.
The air behind me shifted.
I didn’t turn—didn’t need to. I felt him the way I always felt him in this place, like gravity changing, like the universe itselfrearranging to accommodate his presence. The darkness at my back grew deeper, more absolute, and then—
Shadow flame.
It licked up from the stone floor in tendrils of living night, coiling and twisting, taking shape with deliberate slowness. First the broad shoulders. Then the powerful chest. The long legs, the commanding posture, the face I’d memorized in a thousand stolen moments.
Zirene materialized from the shadows like a piece of night given form.
He looked exactly as he had when he’d left me—black hair bound and precise, armor gleaming, amethyst eyes burning with that intensity that had made him feared across the galaxy long before I’d stumbled into his world.
My Shadow. My Sovereign.
But the dreamscape couldn’t hide everything.
Even as the shadows finished their work and he stood before me fully formed, I saw what the war was doing to him. Exhaustion carved deep lines around his eyes. His shoulders held tension that hadn’t been there during the Harvest Festival—a coiled readiness that spoke of battles fought and battles yet to come. The shadows that comprised his true form flickered at the edges, less controlled than I remembered, fragments of darkness drifting from him like smoke from a dying fire.
Battle-worn. Stretched thin. Running on will alone.
My heart cracked.
“Nova.”
His voice wrapped around the word like a prayer: rough, reverent, desperate. It was the title he’d given me—rare for his people—the position in his life that meant light and hope and everything soft that he’d thought he’d never have.
I turned from the railing.
He crossed the distance in three strides, shadows trailing behind him, and then his arms were around me. He crushed me against his chest with a ferocity that stole my breath—not gentle, not careful. The embrace of a male who’d been starving and finally found sustenance, who’d been drowning and finally found air.
His fingers dug into my back like he was afraid I’d dissolve if he didn’t hold tight enough. A tremor ran through his frame—so slight another might have missed it.
I didn’t miss it.
I buried my face in his mane and inhaled.
In the dreamscape, touch felt real. Not quite the same as physical contact—there was something slightly ephemeral about it, like holding smoke that chose to be solid. But his warmth seeped into my skin anyway. His heartbeat thundered against mine—too fast, too hard, proof of how much this separation was costing him. And his scent, that dark blend of midnight and power that was uniquely him, flooded my senses until the rest of existence ceased to matter.
Here, there was no one else. Nothing else.
Just us.
“Tell me,” I said. “Everything.”
“You feel different,” he murmured, the words rumbling through his chest and into my bones. His hand came up to cradle the back of my head, fingers threading into my hair, grounding and familiar. “Stronger.”
“I’m going to have Ryzen train me,” I said quietly. Not a question. A decision. I leaned back just enough to meet his gaze—those endless shadows lit by starlight, seeing far too much. “I need to be stronger. Prepared. I need to be able to reach all of you—no matter the distance.”
He studied my face for a long beat. Then, softer, “Just don’t overdo it.” A pause. “Kaede mentioned… a connection. With Ryzen.”
I didn’t look away. “He was spiraling,” I said simply. “He needed saving. And I was the only one who could reach him. That’s all it was. Nothing more.”
Zirene huffed, a sound caught somewhere between resignation and knowing. “I know whatnothing moreusually means.” His thumb brushed my cheek. “And I know there’s something there. You’ve said as much.”
I felt the tension coil in my chest, tight and tired. “I’m so tired of fighting everything,” I admitted. “Every pull. Every instinct. I just… want to let things happen sometimes. Trust myself. Even if it gets me into trouble.”
