Hope's POV.
By the time I reach the last word, the tears are blinding.
I sit frozen, the letter trembling in my hands, my chest tight, aching. I don’t know what to say. I don’t know how to feel. Anger, grief, shock — it’s all knotted together inside me like a storm.
Without a word, I pass the letter to Malakar. He takes it, slowly, reverently. His eyes move over the page while mine fix on the amulet in my lap. It glints faintly in the soft light, as if aware it’s being seen again for the first time in years. Tears slip down my cheeks in quiet, steady streams.
“I don’t know what to do with this,” I whisper. “I don’t know what it means for me. For us.”
Malakar folds the letter gently and places it on the bed between us. His hand finds mine, warm and grounding.
“You don’t have to decide
