Page 67 of The Immortal’s Mark

It’s terrifying.

It’s the closest thing to peace I’ve felt in three hundred years.

When I finally leave, something has shifted that can’t be unshifted.

I don’t look back.

I want to.

At the garden’s edge, I stop. Don’t turn around. If I look at him right now, sitting on that bench where I just bled out eight centuries of grief, I’ll—

“Same time tomorrow?”

My voice comes out steadier than expected.

The pause before his answer is barely a breath.

“Same time.”

Neither of us says what that means. The words would make it smaller.

I walk away. Armor rebuilding, piece by piece, habit by habit.

That was stupid. That was reckless. That was the most vulnerable I’ve been since Chen died.

That was—

My steps slow.

Worth it.

Maybe.