El?
This time I heard my own voice, ridden with uncertainty and a little hope.
El? I tried again, not minding that I was now the object of attention.
Distantly, I was aware of Diana moving closer to me—as if, in doing so, she would be able to hear El speak when the latter finally decided it was time to put me out of this misery.
Was it just a figment of my own mind? Was I just hearing my inner self admonishing me to choose to let go rather than letting guilt fill me up?
I turned to Makeh. She was beside the injured Quafar, hand on his forehead—the only one not looking at me.
I knew the reason the next second.
You don't know my voice still.
El.
Tears of joy filled my eyes—two slipped past, streams moving gently down my cheeks, meeting at my jaw.
I was too stunned, too overwhelmed to even speak.
I numbly walked to one of the chairs in the seeming hall and sat down.
Diana sat beside me, taking my hands in hers. "Is she awake?"
I only managed a nod.
