WHAT STAYS AFTER THE FIRE DIES
The ravine did not echo anymore.
Stone settled into itself with the slow inevitability of something that had accepted change, fractured edges dulling as dust drifted and fell. The sharp metallic scent in the air faded, replaced by the clean bite of exposed rock and cold earth.
Silence returned.
Not the cautious kind.
The aftermath kind.
She stood where it had all ended, breath slow, shoulders heavy, the bond-field gradually loosening its grip around her. It didn't vanish. It never fully did now. It simply… softened. Like a tide retreating without forgetting the shape of the shore.
Alaric was still holding her.
Not tightly.
Not loosely.
Precisely enough that she didn't have to think about staying upright.
She became aware of it in pieces.
The warmth of his chest against her cheek.The steady rhythm of his breathing.The way his arms adjusted instinctively when her weight shifted.
It would have embarrassed her once.
Now, it grounded her.
