Caelan POV:
Back from patrol, the water hits my shoulders hard, easing away the coiled tension that’s been lingers, stinging my skin. I welcome it.
Steam gathers fast, fogging the glass, softening the sharp lines of the room until there’s nothing left but heat and the steady percussion of water against skin. I brace my palms against the tiled wall and bow my head, breathing deep and controlled—the way I always have.
It doesn’t help.
Elara is there anyway.
Not as fantasy. That would be easier. She’s there as memory: the brush of her shoulder against mine as we ran, the brief, deliberate weight of her body close to me, the way her eyes darkened when she looked at me, full of awareness. Aware.
Vaelor stirs low in my chest, approving, sending a pulse of warmth through me that has nothing
