Wolfen was about to launch himself into the sky when Zoey's hand caught his.
Not grabbing—not the way she'd grab a weapon or an enemy. This was different. Delicate. Like holding something precious that might break if she held too tight. Her fingers wrapped around his with a gentleness that made him stop instantly.
"Remember what I said eleven years ago?"
Her voice was soft. Sweet. The voice you used with someone who had suffered too much, carried too much, been too much.
Wolfen looked at her. The fire at his feet flickered, uncertain.
"You can talk to me about anything. Anything that's troubling you." Zoey's scarred face was open, vulnerable, utterly without judgment. "And I won't... I won't judge you. I promise."
Wolfen's golden eyes searched hers. For a long moment, he didn't speak. Didn't move. Just stood there, feeling the weight of decades pressing down on shoulders that had carried them alone.
"Where is this coming from?" His voice was quieter than usual. Rough at the edges.
Zoey hesitated. Then, softly:
"When you were unconscious... you were muttering. A lot of things." She squeezed his hand gently. "I couldn't understand most of it. But the sound of it... Wolfen, you sounded hurt. Really hurt. Like something was eating you from the inside."
She stepped closer.
"So I thought... maybe you need someone. Someone to help carry whatever it is."
Wolfen's eyes flickered. For just a moment, the mask slipped—and Zoey saw it. The exhaustion. The grief. The weight of one hundred and sixteen years of watching everyone he loved die while he kept going.
He needed help.
She could see it as clearly as she could see the trees around them.
"Nah." Wolfen's voice was steady, almost casual. "I'm fine."
He turned to go.
Zoey didn't let go of his hand.
He stopped. Looked back at her.
"Just remember what I said." Her eyes held his. "When you're ready. If you're ever ready. I'm here."
Wolfen studied her for a long moment. The fire at his feet flickered, steadied, held.
"Sure, sugar cubes."
It was the same old nickname. The same casual deflection. But his voice was softer than usual. And for just a second, his hand squeezed hers back before letting go.
They rose into the sky together—Wolfen on jets of fire, Zoey floating beside him on invisible waves of power. The forest shrank beneath them, becoming a carpet of green and shadow. The horizon stretched before them, endless and waiting.
Zoey glanced at him. His profile was sharp against the grey sky, his golden eyes fixed forward, his expression unreadable.
Whatever he was carrying, it was heavy.
But he wasn't carrying it alone anymore.
She didn't push. Didn't ask again. Just flew beside him, a silent presence, a promise.
When he was ready, she'd be there.
The wind carried them toward whatever waited, two broken people in a broken world, holding onto each other in the only way they knew how.