The forest was silent.
Not the peaceful kind of silence — the kind that followed storms, battles, and broken destinies. The air itself felt wounded, as if remembering every scream, every burst of aura, every dying breath of the Crown Hunters who had attacked them hours ago.
Leaves still trembled on branches that hadn't yet recovered from the shockwaves of Leo's rage.
And in the middle of the wreckage…
Amaya stood in Leo's arms.
His breathing was uneven. His palms were warm against her back. His heartbeat hammered too hard, too fast, like he was barely holding himself together.
Leo never shook.
Not even when facing armies.
But now… he trembled.
Amaya raised her hand and touched his cheek gently.
"Leo… breathe."
For a moment he didn't respond, as if the word itself had to travel through a fog of instinct, rage, and fear. Then he exhaled — slow, ragged, like the air was scraped out of him.
His eyes lifted to hers.
And for the first time since the battle, she saw it clearly:
