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“That was your father,” Vera murmured. “I always thought it was beautiful out here. The gray got to him, but I found it…” Vera trailed off, looking out across the shale and choosing her words from memories Fenrir barely kept himself, these days. “It was peaceful, and while we could still grow food, it was rewarding work. I think I appreciated the challenge when I was young, and then I had you and your sisters and…everything changed after that.”

“For the worse or the better?” Fenrir asked, like a dare.

Vera met his eyes. “Just changed, and change can be scary, at least when you’re a new mother and everything you thought you’d figured out gets put to the test. But I wouldn’t have chosen differently. This place shaped us, all of us, and that I would never change.”

This place made me. It wasn’t the first time the thought had crossed his mind. He’d confronted plenty of pale-eyed refugees when manning Lore’s trenches, fleeing a place they had called home despite the untenable nature of its land, only to confront one of their own barring their way.

There were few excuses to give. Even fewer reasons. He hadn’t wanted to kill those people, but he’d made the decision to play Lore’s game until the time came he could seize the opportunity to overthrow her, even if acting on that decision had come far too late.

I did what was right, when I was able. I saved them. But the time between had been paid with blood, and Fenrir would carry the weight of that guilt for the rest of his life.

“I like him, for what it’s worth.”

Fenrir jerked, then looked down. “Who?”

“Orpheus.”

Fenrir’s throat nearly closed. He had to swallow twice before he could speak again. “I love him, more than should be possible.”

“And Orpheus?” Vera met his eyes again, the question hanging.

“He’d burn the world down for me,” Fenrir said, voice soft, but without hesitation. “And I will do the same for him, if he’s dead.”

That, of everything he’d said, seemed to be something Vera could understand. She stared up at him for a long time—as if seeing Fenrir for the first time since sending him off to that mine.

“He told me you would do this, you know,” Vera whispered. “That I should believe in you to make the right choice, but to believe even more when you change your mind.”

Fenrir couldn’t speak, there were no words left to breathe, let alone think.

“I didn’t know what he meant at the time. But I understand now, and I feel like a fool for not seeing it before.” When Vera took Fenrir’s hand the whole world shifted on its axis. “You deserve to be happy, Fenrir. You’ve done enough, for all of us. It’s unfair for anyone to ask any more of you, not when you’ve always put off your own happiness for everyone else’s wellbeing. I always thought I understood you, because I did the same thing. But I see now how wrong I was. And I wish someone had told me this same thing, years ago.”

She looked up at him again, the pale blue of her gaze wet with tears Fenrir had rarely seen his mother shed, the woman she was supposed to be juxtaposed against the person who sat beside him now. A person Fenrir didn’t know, but had always hoped was there, buried beneath the shield she’d carried on her whole family’s behalf.

“I’m sorry, Fenrir. For what I did, the choices I made. For not protecting you, because I thought it more important to protect as many as I could. The greater good does not exist unless we are all a part of it, and if innocent life is sacrificed intentionally for its benefit, then I want no part in that. Not anymore.”

Fenrir didn’t know what to say, let alone how to reply. “Mum…”

“So, I will help you find him, Fenrir. And you will save him, because he’s who you want. What makes you happy. And it’s time you prioritized that over the rest of us. We can take care of ourselves. We have to, to be worthy of you at all.”

The world Fenrir thought he knew crumbled apart in pieces, fragments shed in favor of a reality he didn’t know could exist—had only ever surfaced in the daydreams he’d indulged in, where his mother’s silhouette filled that mine shaft’s entrance, instead of Lore’s.

When she drew him into an embrace that made him feel small, it felt good. It felt right.

It felt like home.

“Mum,” he whispered through his tears. “I love you, Mum. I never stopped—”

“I know,” she breathed. “I know. And I love you too, Fenrir. I love you so very much. More than you can know.”

And he believed her. Despite the years of silent distance between them, their history of betrayals and mistakes, Fenrir believed her, and that felt more strengthening than anything yet.

They followed Red’s trail for three more nights and two days before they encountered any sign of life besides their own.

Burn scars continued to mark their way, little blackened spots amongst the shale that resembled burning debris more than campfires. Fenrir wondered for a time if the Prometheus hadn’t followed them, but there was no way to say with how the wind scattered the details of the tracks. Only the sheer size of the disturbance marked their way now, heading towards a horizon that barely changed, day after day.

Until one day, it did.

Beside him, Daedra slumped into the passenger seat, knees splayed apart, hands clasped between them, head lolling into the roll cage while the wind whipped an unnatural flush into her cheeks. She seemed on the verge of sleep and Fenrir would have encouraged her to take a nap if not for the darkened shadows under her eyes.