The candle had long burned low, its flame a quiet sentinel in the room's stillness. The shadows on the walls danced softly, curling and twisting as if trying to mimic the emotions twisting inside Luke's chest.
It felt like the conversation had ended. Ilyrana had returned to her book, her expression calm and unreadable as always, and Luke had sunk back into his thoughts. But the quiet wasn't peace. Not really. Not tonight.
Luke exhaled slowly.
"…Ilyrana?"
She glanced at him sideways, not turning her head.
"Yeah?"
Luke shifted forward, elbows on knees, eyes distant.
"It's just… in two days, I'll be meeting her again. And I don't know what I'm supposed to do."
This time, she did turn, properly looking at him.
"I'm not talking about running away or anything like that," Luke added quickly. "I'll go. I promised, even if I didn't say it out loud. But… what if I mess it up?"
He ran a hand through his hair.
