She buries her face against my shoulder, trembling. Valas joins us by the fire, his magic flaring again—this time creating small orbs of soft light that float through the room like captured stars. They drift and swirl in gentle patterns, casting warm illumination that pushes back the storm's darkness.
"See?" His voice is steady, soothing. "We have our own lights. The storm can rage all it wants but we're safe here. Warm and dry with magic to keep the shadows away."
Amisra lifts her head to watch the floating lights, her grip on me loosening slightly as wonder begins to replace fear. "Pretty."
"Like you, little bird." Valas reaches out to tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear, his touch infinitely gentle.
The moment stretches, peaceful despite the chaos outside—and then something crashes with a sound like the world splitting open.
All three of us freeze. The noise came from outside, distant but unmistakably violent. Like massive weight hitting earth with catastrophic force.
Valas is on his feet immediately, moving to the window to peer out into the storm. I watch his expression shift from concern to something grimmer.
"Trees," he says. "Multiple by the sound of it. And—" He stops, pressing closer to the glass. "There's one of the other cabins in that direction. I saw smoke from the chimney when we arrived."
My stomach drops. I can already see where this is going. "Valas?—"
"I have to check." He's already moving toward the door, grabbing his cloak from where he dropped it. "If someone's hurt?—"
"You can't go out in this!" I stand, keeping one hand on Amisra's shoulder. "It's not safe?—"
"I'm a healer." He turns to face me and the resolve in his expression is absolute. Immovable. "If there are people in that cabin and they're injured, I can't just sit here and hope they're fine."
"Valas—"
"You'll be safe here." His gaze softens as it moves between Amisra and me. "The cabin's warded. No trees nearby. Nothing will get through to hurt you. I'll be back as soon as I can."
Then he's gone, the door slamming shut behind him before I can formulate another argument. Before I can tell him that his safety matters too, that Amisra and I need him, that walking into a storm this violent is reckless even for someone with his power.
The wind howls like it's celebrating his departure.
I stand frozen for a moment, staring at the closed door while rain batters the windows and lightning tears the sky apart. Then Amisra's small hand slips into mine and I remember I'mnot alone. That I have a responsibility here that doesn't include falling apart.
"Uncle Val will be okay," she says softly. "Won't he?"
"Yes." I force the word past the tightness in my throat, kneeling to pull her close. "Of course he will. He's strong and smart and he'll come back to us safe."
I pray to gods I'm not sure I believe in that I'm telling the truth.
The storm worsens. Rain becomes a solid wall of water, wind screaming around the cabin's corners like it's looking for weaknesses to exploit. Thunder and lightning happen nearly simultaneously now—the storm directly overhead, furious and relentless.
I try to distract Amisra. Settle us on the couch near the fire where Valas's floating lights still drift in their gentle patterns. Tell her stories about brave warriors and clever heroines, adventures that end in triumph and safety and everyone coming home whole.
But my gaze keeps drifting to the windows. To the darkness beyond where Valas disappeared into chaos and danger with nothing but his magic and his damned healer's oath to protect him.
Time stretches. Minutes feeling like hours while the storm rages and my anxiety builds with every crash of thunder, every flash of lightning that briefly illuminates the wild landscape.
Amisra's questions slow, then stop. Her breathing evens out as exhaustion finally claims her, grief and travel and fear catching up all at once. She curls against my side with her lunox clutched tight, asleep in the way only children can manage—finding peace even when the world is falling apart.
I should sleep too. Should close my eyes and trust that Valas will return safe, that his promise to come back wasn't empty words.
But I can't. Can't stop staring out the window toward where he vanished. Can't stop cataloging every horrible possibility—trees crushing him, lightning striking him down, the mountain itself deciding to swallow him whole.
Can't stop realizing that I've been an absolute fool.
He's right here. Was right here. Has been here for months, offering me everything I claimed I didn't want but secretly craved with every breath.
And I squandered it. Kept him at arm's length even after we'd crossed lines together, even after he'd made it clear he wanted more than physical pleasure. I wrapped myself in fear and self-protection and convinced myself it was wisdom when really it was just cowardice.
