The hours stretched long into the dark, parchment and ink spread before him in a quiet war of decisions. Based on the documents spread out before him, much had changed in the years he'd been gone.
He barely noticed the passage of time until the sound came.
Soft. Fractured.
…if I just walk far enough… I’ll find you…
His quill stilled mid-motion. At the threshold stood Auryn, barefoot and pale, eyes aglow, one hand trembling. She stared forward without seeing, lips parted. Her thoughts slipped loose again through the Bond, more plea than sentence.
“Auryn,” he said, rising. “It’s alright. I’m here.”
She didn’t respond—not to the sound, nor to the name only he used. Her thoughts swirled in broken loops, disjointed.
Where is he? Why can’t I find him?
He stepped forward, handsraised and hovering at the level of his chest, more shepherd than soldier. Her shoulders quivered. Still, she kept walking. Searching.
When he reached her, he bent to cup her cheek—and paused. There, beneath her eyes and at their corners, lines of light flickered—too fine to be veins, too deliberate to be chance. Like delicate fractures of Veil-thread beneath her skin.
She was crying. Not sobs, not whimpers, but silent tears streaming downward, silver and shimmering.
He tried again—this time through the Bond.
I’m here. You’re safe. Just reach for me.
But the words only sharpened her distress. Her thoughts pitched, her steps faltering in their urgency. His presence wasn’t enough. She couldn’t find him.
Until his earring shifted.
A glimmer of green caught the firelight.
She saw it.
Kailorien leaned down.
Her hand lifted slowly, uncertain… then closed around it like a tether.
He exhaled, voice low, steady.
“There you go,” he murmured. “I’m here, sweetfire.”
She didn’t speak. Didn’t wake. But the panic in her thoughts dulled, her posture softening as she swayed toward him.
Behind him, a small movement stirred the quiet.
Lu’ma stood in the hall, dressed in her violet Attendant's robes, her eyes tired but alert.
“It’s alright,” he said. “I have her.”
She signedcautiously, 'Do not move too fast, Your Quintessence. Her Radiance startles easily when she walks in sleep.'
He nodded and gathered Auryn into his arms, careful not to disturb the earring still clutched in her hand. She curled against his chest, her cheek pressed to his collarbone, breath brushing the hollow of his throat.
Back in the sitting room, he picked up the wide-backed chair before the hearth with one arm and set it before his desk. Wrapping Auryn in a blanket, he eased into the chair. Her hand remained against his earring, holding it like a traveler might hold a piece of home.
'Her Radiance calls for the Resh’Agar',Lu’ma signed, lingering near the doorway. 'Not the title. The name. The one only Her Radiance uses.'
His heart clenched.
