Ravenna’s POV
I was not anywhere, and I was everywhere.
The world had remembered me in the way it remembers the sound of rain hitting a dry riverbed after a long drought. Not all at once, not completely, but in small, breathing pulses. I could feel it—every shard of glass-tree, every ripple of water, every golden root carrying the memory of me in the way roots carry the rain, slow and insistent.
Thorn was there still. I could see him through the currents of light and water and root, though I was not fully there myself. He moved like a man who was learning his own heart all over again. His hands skimmed the surface of the water, and for a moment I remembered the first time I had touched him. That brush of skin and warmth that had seemed too human, too soft for the chaos we carried. I wan
