Silas’s POV:
I stay where the trees thin just enough to see them, magic drawn close, quiet, reverent—like one might approach something sacred and decide not to cross the threshold.
They are close.
Not simply touching, though Ace has Skye pulled into him with a certainty that leaves no room for doubt. It’s deeper than bodies. Deeper than comfort. Their bond hums through the forest like a living current, low and steady, ancient in a way that has nothing to do with time.
Skye is folded into his chest, her head tucked beneath his chin, fingers clenched in his coat as if instinct chose him long before she ever could. Ace’s arm is locked around her back, firm and unyielding. His other hand rests at the nape of her neck—not commanding, not restraining—anchoring her to him and to the world.
