Elara's gaze softened—her steps didn't falter, but something in her presence did.
The slight drop of her shoulders. The way her eyes shifted—not away from Aurelian, but somewhere past him. Somewhere distant.
"When I met her," she said, her voice low, quiet as frost on stone, "my life was already breaking. Or maybe it had already broken. I was just… picking through the pieces."
A pause. The wind stirred the ivy overhead.
"I had nothing. No name worth keeping. No home. No warmth. Just a numbness that didn't go away."
Aurelian's expression sobered. Selphine's steps slowed, not from hesitation, but instinct.
"And then," Elara continued, "she appeared. Out of nowhere. Like she'd been watching all along. She didn't offer me comfort. She didn't offer sympathy." Her lips curved faintly. "She offered a door."
"To power?" Selphine asked gently.
"To meaning," Elara replied. "She said, 'You don't need saving. You need sharpening.'"
