"Strength is not the absence of breaking; it is the choice to break together."
RIVEN'S POV
The silence in our chambers was the final enemy. It was not the gentle quiet of rest, but the heavy, suffocating stillness left after a massive psychic withdrawal. Silas, my mates' father figure, the King's Captain, and the North's strategic anchor, had performed his final, perfect act of duty, and the resulting void was an active, measurable force threatening the composure of Gavriel and Rell. I moved with the calculated softness of a General on an internal security detail. My Alpha core was fully engaged, generating a constant, steady warmth that struggled against the cold shock emanating from my mates. My uniform was gone, replaced by simple, loose linen, allowing direct contact between our energies. They were in crisis, and their training was compounding the pain. Silas had instilled in them the perfection of containment. Now, they were using that discipline against their own souls.
