Morning light spilled across the temple stones, soft and golden, like forgiveness in motion.
Irene stood at the threshold, Orion nestled on her hip, the mountains stretching wide beneath the awakening sky.
Leo watched from a few paces behind.
She didn't turn. But she knew he was there.
“We could stay," she murmured. “Raise him here. Teach him to plant, to build, to listen to the wind like you do."
“We could," Leo replied.
Silence.
Then she said, “But you won't."
Leo stepped closer. “Not forever."
“I know."
She looked down at Orion, still drowsy from sleep, curls damp with morning dew. “He deserves more than ruins and shadows."
Leo's voice was quiet. “He deserves the world. Not just what's left of it."
---
Later, they sat by the hearth, the boy playing with his carved wolves ne
