Another wobbling shift forward. Another.
Every step is a burning strain, the skin on my cheeks pulled back, hair threatening to strip from my scalp the closer I get to Kyzari.
But I don’t stop. Don’t falter, even when another boisterous assault whips all the breath from my lungs.
The winged being shifts. Turns his head to look back over his broad shoulder, past the wake of his fluttery cloak and the pitched arch of his silver wings, eyes striking me. Bold.
Challenging.
His mouth moves, inaudible to me. Though I think maybeshecan hear him … remembering the way she was looking up at the being. With eyes full of love, hope, and relief—
He’s soothing my daughter. He’s singing a song that’s bringing her comfort.
He’s doing something I’m not sure I’ve ever had the chance to do for her myself.
I don’t battle the envy that pounds into my gut. Instead, I feel the strike. Feel my breath sputter from the force of it. Because with that envy, there’s another emotion nesting beside it, gently holding its hand.
Gratitude.
He’s here, embracing her, eyes brimming with a wealth of protective adoration. He’slovingher with such force the world is wrecking around them.
And I realize, quite suddenly, that our daughter found her great love before we even found her. That in the time I’ve been gone or lost in the unknowing—in the time Kaan has spent believing Kyzari is the daughter of his brother—she’s outgrown her youth.
We missed it. Every little bit.
It was taken from us—from her beautiful, big-hearted pah—and we’ll never get that back.
It’s with that thought that I break, chest cracking as I move farther forward. With it, Clode’s song sputters from my lips, her shield dissipating so fast I expect to be immediately tossed through the sky.
I’m not.
Even at her strongest, she was no match for the billowing surge that barely bolsters in her absence. Meaning I was charging forward by the force of my own desire to be close to Kyzari.
Another step, and I’m almost in reaching distance of—
Him.
Almost close enough to lift a hand and brush my fingers across the billowy membrane of his magnificent silver wings, just to the left of where they protrude from between his shoulder blades.
I don’t ask his name. Don’t need to when it somehow echoes through me.
Caelis.
But at such close proximity, I notice he’s not quite whole, seeing Kyzarithroughhim when I focus hard enough—her eyes closed, cheek pressed against his chest.
Those silver ribbons streaming from the stone on her forehead are actively stitching Caelis into existence …
Frowning, I meet his eyes again.
The world around us loses shape, smell, sound, leaving only two startling silver orbs reminiscent of Moonplume moons. Making me feel as though I’m suspended somewhere between the ones still left in the sky, alone in the hollow of a silent blackness that feels eternal.
A part of him I can’t see—can barely sense—eases forward and gently blurs the lines between us, exploring my soul, peeking through its deepest, darkest corners.Parts of me I certainly haven’t taken the time to explore or straight up ignored.
Purposefully.
He mulls over some areas, like flicking through a dusty tome that’s piqued his interest; is delicate with other, more tender parts. So careful not to cause me any pain or discomfort that I ache to weep.
It’s like being unpackaged from a box, everything lifted, peered through, bound in a soft cloth and set back down again. And although I should feel intruded on—too seen—neither of those feelings come.
