That night, Kaelen dreamed.
He was in the forest again—the old forest, before the fire. Hometree stood tall and proud around him, glowing with life. People moved through its branches, laughing, working, loving. He saw Anya, alive and well, teaching children to shoot. He saw Tarsem, young again, courting his wife. He saw Seri as a girl, chasing thanators through the undergrowth.
He walked through the dream, touching faces, breathing air that smelled of home. It was beautiful. It was cruel.
And then the fire came.
It swept through the forest like a living thing, consuming everything in its path. Hometree burned. People burned. Anya burned, screaming his name—
Kaelen woke gasping.
Seri was beside him, her hand on his chest. "Another dream?"
"The same dream. Always the same." He sat up, rubbing his face. "I can't escape it. I can't stop seeing it."
"It will fade. Eventually."
"Will it?" He looked at her. "You lost your mother. Your home. Your whole world. And you're stronger than me."
"I'm not stronger. I'm just better at hiding." She leaned against him. "The dreams come for me too. Every night. I see her face. I hear her voice. I feel her hand in mine, and then I wake up and she's gone."
They sat in silence for a long time, watching the moonlight dance on the water.
"What do we do?" Kaelen asked finally. "When the dreams won't stop? When the grief won't end?"
"We keep going," Seri said. "We keep breathing. We keep fighting. And we remember that we're not alone." She took his hand. "We have each other. We have the survivors. We have the Metkayina. We have Eyva. It's not enough—it will never be enough—but it's something."
"Is it?"
"It has to be."