the darkness falls around me at night
I nod, grinning when he says I can still swing swords. “Not at certain targets,” I echo with mock solemnity, a flick of dry humor under the words.
The smile he gives then—nose crinkled, easy and amused—makes me wanna make him smile more often. Not because I would know if it’s rare (though maybe it is), but because of what it does to his face. Just for a breath, the years and the weight and the cold fall away, and I can almost see the person he must’ve been, before this world and the one he was from taught him to be a fortress.
I don’t say anything. Gods forbid I point it out and make him stop smiling altogether. I just tuck the image away, quiet, like something worth keeping.
When he mentions Frey’s Breath, I blink in surprise and then laugh. “I haven’t been there since I was about ten,” I say, and catch myself before I correct it. Ten. That was only four years ago now. Not nine. Not really. My hands flex at my sides, as if memory had a weight to shake off. I’m still getting used to it—this stretch of time Frey gifted me, as though growing up faster would make the world easier to face.
It doesn’t. But it does make me more determined to catch up.
“Don’t thank me yet,” I say, with a fogged laugh. “I’ve still got work to do before I’ve earned anyone’s gratitude.”
And then I look at him—really look at him. The scarring, the wear, the steadiness in his frame. How easily he could’ve written me off, sent me back to warm fires and safe roads. But he didn’t.
“Thank you,” I add, honest and unflinching. “For not just outright dismissing me and letting me try. I promise I’ll keep doing that. Even if it takes me a while to stop losing my daggers.”
The wind shifts again, and I breathe it in—cold and sharp and alive… and smelling like burning fur and skin. Gross.
Smoke curls through the cold, thin and unhurried, disappearing into the treetops. Somewhere behind us, the snow is already beginning to cover the tracks we made, as if the land is indifferent to what passed through. Ahead, the woods stretch wide and silent. No clear road. No signs telling me I’m ready.
But I move forward anyway.
FIN
The smile he gives then—nose crinkled, easy and amused—makes me wanna make him smile more often. Not because I would know if it’s rare (though maybe it is), but because of what it does to his face. Just for a breath, the years and the weight and the cold fall away, and I can almost see the person he must’ve been, before this world and the one he was from taught him to be a fortress.
I don’t say anything. Gods forbid I point it out and make him stop smiling altogether. I just tuck the image away, quiet, like something worth keeping.
When he mentions Frey’s Breath, I blink in surprise and then laugh. “I haven’t been there since I was about ten,” I say, and catch myself before I correct it. Ten. That was only four years ago now. Not nine. Not really. My hands flex at my sides, as if memory had a weight to shake off. I’m still getting used to it—this stretch of time Frey gifted me, as though growing up faster would make the world easier to face.
It doesn’t. But it does make me more determined to catch up.
“Don’t thank me yet,” I say, with a fogged laugh. “I’ve still got work to do before I’ve earned anyone’s gratitude.”
And then I look at him—really look at him. The scarring, the wear, the steadiness in his frame. How easily he could’ve written me off, sent me back to warm fires and safe roads. But he didn’t.
“Thank you,” I add, honest and unflinching. “For not just outright dismissing me and letting me try. I promise I’ll keep doing that. Even if it takes me a while to stop losing my daggers.”
The wind shifts again, and I breathe it in—cold and sharp and alive… and smelling like burning fur and skin. Gross.
Smoke curls through the cold, thin and unhurried, disappearing into the treetops. Somewhere behind us, the snow is already beginning to cover the tracks we made, as if the land is indifferent to what passed through. Ahead, the woods stretch wide and silent. No clear road. No signs telling me I’m ready.
But I move forward anyway.
FIN
Theea
and covers me in silence so bright
