Walking into the light.
Going home.
My eyes burn. I blink hard. Don’t cry. Don’t—
Shit.
The image shifts one last time.
Us. Right now. Right here.
Standing in the hall. Six men behind one woman. Shadows at her feet.
And in the image — the painted version of this exact moment — I’m holding something.
A journal.
My breath stops.
I reach into my pack before I fully decide to. Fingers finding leather.
Warm. It’s always warm.
I pull it out.
The wall glows brighter. The image solidifies. Me. The journal. The final frame.
“Open it,” Kieran says.
My hands are shaking. That’s annoying.
I open it anyway.
Patricia’s handwriting. Neat. Precise. I’d know it anywhere.
But this isn’t notes. Isn’t records.
A title.
Shadows of Change
By Patriciafor my Kaia
I can’t breathe.
The next page.
The end is only where we choose to rest.And Kaia?You have so much left to live.
The sob rips out of me. Ugly. Loud. Helpless.
My knees buckle.
Arms catch me. Warm hands. Familiar scents. The weight of six bonds anchoring me in place. Kieran at my back. Finn at my side. Hands everywhere. Holding me up.
“She wrote it,” I manage. “She knew she was leaving and she still—”
“She loved you.” Kieran’s voice cracks. “They all did.”
