She was finally holding the man who had walked through fire and void and the hells between lifetimes—yet never once looked back to see the one who'd silently followed, protecting the Balance while silently breaking under its cost, loving him from a distance that felt like beautiful torture.
His hands lifted, tentative at first, brushing her cheeks as if they were carved from the most delicate starlight. But when she leaned into his touch with a soft sigh that sounded like coming home, something fundamental shifted.
His fingers slipped into her hair, undoing the precision of her ancient bun with deliberate care, letting raven strands fall in rivers down her back like shadows surrendering to moonlight.
Her hands, long used to guiding cosmic flows and governing equilibrium across infinite realities, now trembled as they slid down his chest.
