Cassiopeia's View And I'm still so blue,

Gjalla held Morwenna's gaze, her sister’s words echoing against the quiet of the night, each one an assurance that wove itself tightly into her heart. To know that she had been forgiven, not just in words, lifted a weight from her spirit. She had carried her own remorse like a burden, a reminder of the rift that had marred their bond and the years she could never return. Yet here, beneath a ceiling of stars, that gulf felt insignificant—a shadow against the strength of Morwenna’s loyalty.

At her sister's question, Gjalla’s expression flickered with something close to sadness, a shadow that quickly hardened into resignation. She pulled back just enough to look into Morwenna’s eyes, the faintest of smiles softening an otherwise steely countenance. A pack had never felt like an option, not when her heart had always returned to the mountains, to the shadows of Stormrift and her spirit sister’s side. But Morwenna opened a possibility Gjalla had all but abandoned. "Daor," she'd confess it freely. "Nyke mērī, nykeēdrosa." The North had always been her home. It shaped her spirit, a land steeped in memories—for better or worse.

"Yn daor longer. Skoriot ao jikagon, nyke jāhor follow." Gjalla felt no compulsion to move on, no need to chase the cold solitude she had worn like armor. Not before her sister. "Nyke rūsīr ao hae bōsa hae ao emagon jorrāelagon hen issa." she whispered with an sure nod.