"We were forged in silence and shadow, but together we rise two hearts, one realm, and a promise that power means nothing without love."
VYSERIC AND OBERION
The wind on the cliffside tasted of salt and morning sun, curling around Veyric's shoulders as he dismounted his sea-steed beside Oberon. Below them, nestled between pearled rocks and soft green hills, stood the small, temporary camp where Ysara and Ellowen had sought refuge after the war. The tents shimmered with protective smiles, and a gentle hum of magic coated the air. "He's in there," Oberon said, nodding toward the largest tent where the wards were strongest. He held the small boy in his arms, swaddled in a thick cloak of soft velvet, his dark curls peeking over the folds. "Elle did not sleep much last night. Kept asking for her."
Veyric gave a tight smile, one hand on Oberon's shoulder. "Neither did she."
