“Lore,” her voice echoed from the mirror’s depths. “If you’re here…”
My heart stuttered.
“I am.” I pressed my palm against the glass. “I’m right here, love. Always. I looked, and I saw it all, Wildfire. There is nothing you can say or do that would make me flinch. I will kneel before every broken part of you and swear my love to it. You are my beginning and my undoing, and I choose you anyway.”
I shifted closer to her fractured reflection. “Do you understand what that means?” My voice dropped. “It means I choose your nightmares along with your dreams. Your weaknesses along with your strengths. Every broken piece and every blazing moment.”
My forehead touched the cool surface of the mirror. “It means I'd rather burn with you than live safely without you. I will carry your pain because there’s no reason for you to shoulder it alone.” I pulled back to meet her eyes through the glass. “Choosing you means choosing to love without conditions, without fear, without holding anything back, and I do.”
My breath fogged the mirror's surface. “I know what loving you costs, Wildfire. I've seen every memory, every wound, every reason you have to guard your heart. And I'm telling you it's worth it.You'reworth it. Worth the risk, worth the fear, worth everything.”
I traced the outline of her face on the glass.
“I’m here with you. You’ll never have to bear anything else alone.”
Chapter 8
Lore
She could have asked me for a blade, an army, the moon, and I would’ve died to obtain them for her. But she gave me what no one else ever had, her wreckage and truth, hoping I’d understand and still love her.
“I will willingly carry your burdens for you for the rest of my days,” I said.
Light burst from the mirror, silver swirling with red and shades of deep, stormy lavender. The veil began to lift, and the jagged terrain softened. The warped buildings straightened.
I wasn’t meant to fix her. That was never the point. I was meant to know her. To stand beside her. To witness every sharp, broken part of this woman I loved, and stay. Tochooseher, even when she couldn’t choose herself.
The shadows receded, curling back to wherever they’d come from.
A path unrolled in front of me made of smooth stone, and I stepped onto it.
Even if all I found was the shell of the woman who’d once kissed life into my broken pieces, I’d help her. And if I broke apart trying, at least I’d shatter doing something worthy.
The path led me through fog and creeping vines, each step a heartbeat louder in my ears. Up ahead, high against the bruised sky, the crumbling remains of Evergorne Castle rose like a scar torn open. Thorns wrapped the entrance like jagged teeth. The iron gate leaned half-off its hinges.
A figure stepped from the ruin’s mouth. Not Reyla, though it was almost her.
Her shadow-self had the same build and hair, but her eyes were stormy, and her mouth had thinned to a stark line. She blocked the threshold with her arms folded across her chest and her bare feet planted on the stone.
“What do you know of her pain?” she asked, her voice echoing around us. “You think you've earned a way in? Power isn't enough here. Love isn't either.”
The wind shifted, carrying the scent of rotting flowers.
“I’m here for my wife,” I stated with hope in my heart. “Nothing more.”
The shadow didn’t move but a question burned into the air between us. The wind carried it in a whisper through the thorns.
What has she never said aloud, but you know she feels?
Ah, Wildfire. This question wrenched through my heart, leaving me gutted. Bleeding.
“That she’s not enough,” I said quietly. “Not fast enough or smart enough. Not strong enough. Not enough to save Kinart. Not enough to wear a crown or stand strong for Evergorne or even for me.” I swallowed. “But she’s wrong. She's always been enough. From the moment she challenged me on the deck of my ship, she has been more than I could ever hope to claim.”
The words left me hollow, scraped raw from a truth that had lived inside me for months. Every time she'd thrown herself into danger, every moment she'd pushed harder than anyone should have to, it was due to the belief that she had to earn her place in the world.
I tightened my hands against my sides. How many nights had she lain awake going through her failures? How many times had she looked in the mirror and seen inadequacy where I only saw everything beautiful and fierce?
The shadow watched me with those storm-dark eyes, weighing my answer on some invisible scale. Measuring whether my love was deep enough to see past the surface, strong enough to hold the weight of her wounds.
