Qeya River home & consonance

Gjalla’s ears twitched, but she didn’t lift her gaze from the stars. They were so far away—just like home. Gjalla didn’t answer right away. The faintest furrow in her brow betraying the thoughts swirling behind her eyes. Morwenna’s words washed over her, heavy with meaning and light with hope. Gjalla felt the warmth of them, even if they did not quite reach her.

The question lingered in the air, pulling at her like the tide. Finally, she shifted, her ears flicking back slightly. "Not Evenspire. The kingdom never fit me the way it fit you." There was no bitterness in her words—only a quiet admission, laid bare under the stars. "..I miss home." she admitted, her voice almost lost in the night. The statement falls from her tongue heavy, laced with something more. Significant in a way she could not explain or understand. "Stormrift."

Her chest tightened, and her tail shifted against the ground, betraying the unrest she tried to mask. "Sometimes I wonder what it would have been like, if things had been different. If I had stayed. If I had taken the throne instead of running from it." Her voice grew quieter with each word, as though speaking them aloud made them more real, more painful.

Gjalla finally turned her head slightly, her gaze meeting Morwenna’s. There was no envy in her eyes, but there was something else—something heavier. "I’m glad you’ve found peace here," she said, her tone even. No one was more deserving than her spirit sister. "I cannot say the same for myself quite yet."