Her gaze softens slightly.
“The bond is quiet.”
“Yes,” I say.
The word carries more weight than she probably realizes.
“I noticed.”
We continue walking for several minutes, the road stretching ahead through rolling fields that glow gold beneath the fading light. Somewhere in the distance a village bell rings softly, announcing the evening hour to farmers returning from their fields.
Civilization again.
Normal life continuing as though nothing in the world has changed.
Eventually Elowen breaks the silence.
“You keep checking the bond.”
The statement is not accusatory. Just observant.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
I consider the question carefully before answering.
“Because it has never been quiet before.”
The admission settles between us. She looks forward again, her expression thoughtful.
“You’re afraid it will come back.”
I do not answer immediately.
“Wrath rarely disappears forever,” I say finally.
“And fear?”
“That depends on the person carrying it.”
Her steps slow slightly as the road curves between the hills, the evening wind stirring the hem of her cloak as the last light of the sun settles across the fields around us.
I think for a moment before speaking.
“Elowen,” I say quietly.
She glances up at me.
“Yes?”
The question forming in my head has been there since the moment we walked away from Briarthorn.
“Do you regret it?”
She stops walking and looks at me, clearly trying to understand what I mean.
“Regret what?”
