Aria
We do not return immediately.
That feels important.
The mountain still smokes behind us, its collapsed face cutting jagged lines against the pale sky. Silver dust drifts through the air in fading currents, catching the light like ash from a dead star.
No one wants to stand near it.
No one says that.
We stand there anyway.
The bond stays quiet now.
Not weak.
Not distant.
Quiet.
Like it understands we need space to breathe.
That might be the most unsettling thing of all.
Because the bond is learning us.
Or maybe—we are finally learning it.
Cassian stands to my left, his gaze still moving across the cliffs, the shadows, the broken rock. Always watching for what comes next.
Lucien studies the silver dust settling over the stones, expression unreadable but far too focused.
