The wind howled across the cliff's edge—the same place where Dylan had once fallen, broken and bleeding.
This time, he came by choice.
His arms cradled a small urn carved from obsidian, wrapped in silver cloth.
Sophie's ashes.
No guards. No procession. No audience.
Just him. And her. At last.
He knelt where the stone dipped toward the ledge, the spot where her hands had once gripped him, where her voice had kept him tethered to life.
Dylan set the urn down and began to carve.
With a chisel and bare hands, he etched her name into the rock.
Sophie Kingsley
The Voice in the Storm
Beneath it, he carved the first line of her lullaby—the one that haunted his dreams now.
*"Through the wind and through the rain, I'll guide you home again..."*
He placed the restored vinyl inside a seal
