Shadowwyn Moor smooth pebble

suliya's gaze did not waver, her features composed in a way that belied the storm beneath her pale eyes. i know, she replied evenly, her voice carrying no jealousy, no envy, only the weight of something far more profound. it was not the woman—this morwenna—that stirred her, but the man who now stood before her, his word undone by his own hand.

that much is clear, she continued after a beat, the edges of her tone sharpening, though she remained outwardly calm. there was no malice in her words, only a cold, analytical detachment that revealed her disquiet. she thought of the lanzadoii, their voices she had once believed to guide her, and the muradoii echoes that whispered truths she could not ignore.

it was not anger she felt, but a deeper sense of mistrust, of disconnection. she had accepted the muradoii in her blood, their love in all things—a love that shaped even their cruelty, their violence. it was an ethos sun eater seemed to grasp only when it suited him, and this inconsistency gnawed at her like a carrion bird picking apart flesh. i wish you happiness, for what it is worth.

had she been forced to choose between sun eater or the boy husband, she would have chosen the boy. not because of affection or loyalty, but because he represented something sun eater had not proven to her: a clarity of purpose.

the muradoii, for all their shadows, did what they did for love. and in this moment, suliya could see no love in the man before her, not for her, not for her culture. she did not say this aloud. instead, she simply watched him, waiting to see what weight her words might bear.