Chloe
I spent the entire day in Elijah’s arms.
Not just because I was weak.
Not just because I couldn’t stand.
But because for the first time since the war began, I allowed myself to simply exist.
To breathe and just to be held.
I drifted in and out of sleep, my cheek pressed against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heart. Every time I stirred, his hand was there—slowly rubbing small circles along my back.
Every so often, he would press a kiss to the top of my head.
“You’re safe,” he would murmur.
And I believed him.
Somewhere between waking and dreaming, Rhea rose within me.
Not fierce.
Not battle-ready.
Gentle.
I told you everything would be okay, she whispered.
Her voice wrapped around my mind like silver light. She had carried me through the worst nights.
