Jaefel crouched by a stream, letting the water run over his hands. "Love isn't blind," he said without looking back. "It's defiant. That's different."
Lucius gave a small huff of agreement, though he still hadn't cracked a smile.
Sarah and Emma shared a blanket and a flask, their heads bent close together. Sarah was humming quietly under her breath, a lullaby they remembered from childhood. It sounded fragile.
The silence stretched again after that. A heavy hush filled the forest, one they didn't dare shatter with stories—not this time.
Too much was unknown. Too much was at stake. The road ahead wound into danger, and they all felt it.
But somehow, in the middle of it all—Salviana's laughter, Alaric's whispered teases, their stolen kisses under starlight—cut through the dark like a stubborn flame.
Jean glanced at them again, annoyed, admiring. Maybe even a little jealous.
They were fucking happy.
And that, in a way, was the bravest thing anyone could be.
