She sees me.
All of me.
Not hidden in mist or veiled behind trees—buthere. Bark-skinned and rune-marked and standing in full sunlight. Guardian. Sentinel. Monster. Miracle.
For a moment, she doesn’t move.
She gasps so softly, like it’s torn straight from her chest.
“Thorn,” she whispers again, a prayer this time.
I take one slow step toward her.
She doesn’t flinch.
Instead, she drops her satchel and closes the space between us like gravity’s pulling her forward.
When she reaches me, her fingers hover—hesitant, trembling—as if she’s afraid I might vanish again. Her hand lifts to my chest, palm flat over my runes, warm against my cool, textured skin.
“You’re glowing,” she says, voice breaking.
“So are you,” I murmur.
Her laugh catches halfway, tangled in tears. “You’re—how are youhere?”
“You brought me back.”
I reach up, fingers brushing a stray curl from her forehead. She leans into the touch like she’s been waiting forever.
“I thought I lost you,” she breathes.
“You almost did,” I say quietly. “But you didn’t stop. Youbelieved.”
“I didn’t have anything else,” she says, voice cracking. “And I couldn’t lose you too.”
The sunlight shifts around us, dappling the leaves in gold. The Grove isalive, singing in rustles and blooms. Pixies flicker in the corners, dancing between petals. Magic pulses in the soil, rich and full.
“I was afraid,” I admit. “That wanting you would destroy you.”
Clara’s gaze lifts to mine, unwavering.
“I was afraid you wouldn’t come back,” she says.
Then she rises onto her toes—and kisses me.
Not tentative. Not soft.
Real.
The kind of kiss you give when something buried finally breaks through. When you’ve been stitched together by grief and bloom and you finally dare towantagain.
My hands curl around her waist, pulling her in like she belongs there, and shedoes—rooted, steady,home.
The Grove blooms brighter.
And in that moment, with Clara in my arms and the sun on our skin.
I know this is no longer just duty.
