Qeya River heavy is the head

star eater let out a soft laugh, warm and sharp like sunlight breaking through a cold morning. her amber gaze swept over blackfell appraising him with the quiet confidence of a woman who had seen much, endured more, and yet still stood tall.

you should be grateful, she said, the faintest edge of amusement curling her words. grateful i vouched for you. grateful i didn’t let ice diver snap her jaws around your neck when she saw fit.

her gaze lingered on him, a flicker of something knowing passing through her eyes. gjalla, she began, her tone shifting, softer now, but no less firm, will take time. she is not a woman to be swayed by words or stubborn devotion alone.

she stepped closer, just enough to make her presence loom but not overwhelm. but perhaps you’ve already figured that out, she said, her smirk returning, a hint of challenge behind it. if you’re to follow her, then do so wisely, blackfell. prove you’re worth her notice—not just with your words, but with every step you take in her shadow.

she turned then, her dark fur catching the faint light of the day, her voice lingering behind her like an echo. you’ve chosen her, and now you’ll learn what it means to earn her. with that, she moved back toward the gathering, leaving her words to hang in the cold air between them.