The figure did not answer.
It drifted closer to Elara, hovering above her, the darkness folding in upon itself like a living veil. Dar could only watch, helpless, breath held tight in his chest.
Time stretched.
Moments passed—too many, not enough.
Just as fear began to claw at him, just as he felt the last fragile thread of hope begin to fray?—
Elara gasped.
The sound was sharp, sudden, unmistakable.
Dar surged forward, dropping to his knees beside her as the dark form lifted, retreating slowly. The hood turned once toward him just enough for him to sense intent, not threat, and then… the figure dissolved, breaking apart like mist caught by dawn.
The forest was still once more.
Dar gathered Elara to him, breath ragged, heart hammering, afraid to believe what he had heard, afraid it might vanish if he dared to hope.
But she breathed.
Dar barely dared to breathe.
Elara lay against him, her chest rising shallowly beneath his hand. He felt it, slow, uneven, but there. Real. He tightened his grip as if she might slip away if he did not hold fast.
Her lashes fluttered.
“El… a… ra,” he whispered, his voice breaking on her name.
Her lips parted. Breath came in short, fractured pulls. “Dar… I—” She stopped, drawing in air, eyes squeezing shut as if the effort cost her dearly. “It was… Muir… and the wanderer…”
“Easy,” he murmured, pressing his forehead to hers. “Do not speak. Breathe. I know.”
Her brow creased faintly. “You… know?”
“Aye,” he said softly. “They are gone. They will not harm you again.”
Her breath shuddered, relief washing through her in a fragile wave. He felt her fingers press weakly against his chest, as if testing that he was real.
Dar closed his eyes, cherishing the feeling of her hand against him. He lifted her carefully into his arms, every movement deliberate, reverent. The weight of her against him—warm, alive—nearly shattered him. She let out a small sound and instinctively wrapped her arms around his neck, clinging to him with what little strength she had.
His arms locked around her.
For a heartbeat, he could not speak.
“I thought,” he said finally, voice thick, “that I would never feel this again.” His hold tightened, not crushing, but desperate. “Your arms around me. I thought the world had ended.”
She shifted slightly, gathering enough breath to answer. “When I thought I would die…” Her words came slowly, each one fought for. “My only thought… was you.”
His chest hitched.
“That I would never feel you hold me again,” she continued, lifting her face to look at him. Her eyes were glassy, unfocused, but fixed on his. “And then… I remembered something.”
“What?” he asked, barely louder than a breath.
“Safe,” she said simply. “You gave your word that you would always keep me safe.” Her lips curved in the faintest smile. “So, I waited for you.”
Something broke in him then.