The darkness thinned.
The shadows stirred like they recognized me. Like they were making room.
Voices brushed against me, distant and warped.
The space beside me moved. The air changed. And suddenly, the darkness wasn’t empty anymore.
The world gradually, reluctantly sharpened around me.
My eyes opened slowly, and Bastian’s face came into view.
“Bas…tian.” My voice was hoarse. Like I hadn’t spoken in several moons.
Bastian smiled. “Welcome back, old friend.”
I dragged in a breath. The air burned my lungs, and I instantly knew I was not in Vaelthorne.
But I also knew I wasn’t in Morgäven, either, where the air was designed to drain the life from you.
That said, this place was just a little better than Morgäven.
When I tried to move, the world tilted violently. My chest split open from the inside, every breath scraping against something broken. The weight of the sword felt like it was still inside my chest, and my body protested like it no longer belonged to me.
“Easy, there.” Bastian laid a hand on my shoulder, steadying me. “Don’t even think about getting up. You’re lucky to be alive.”
He was right.
I should have been dead.
I knew that with bone-deep certainty.
In fact, I had felt myself die. And yet…
I was here.Breathing.
“I…”
Alaric and Garrick stepped up beside Bastian, relief on their faces.
“You’re all here,” I muttered.
“Of course, we are.” Alaric gave me the smile of a brother who would always have my back.
I looked around the room, then memory slammed into me without warning.
Memory of her.
Elariya.
The moment her name settled in my mind, I looked back at Bastian. “Elariya… was she here?”
As I waited for his answer, the protective part of me wanted him to tell me no. The other part of me… The part that couldn’t stand to be without her wanted to hear that she hadn’t been a hallucination.
When Bastian nodded, I experienced a strange clash of relief, longing, and dread.
Back in Morgäven… It was her. She was really there.
And for those brief moments when I slipped away from the darkness, I’d kissed her.
