Silver Moraine multieyed raven

ours? tvar echoes his brother, though his voice is grim rather than any sort of proud.

tvar’s ears twitch, but his gaze stays locked on the glacier. something shifts in him, something old and buried, unearthed by the sight of it—by faust standing before him, calling him back to something he thought he had left behind.

his jaw tightens. i have responsibilities, he says, clipped. firm. a life built elsewhere, a mate, children soon to be born. but the words don’t land the way they should. they feel hollow in his mouth, as if saying them aloud makes them less certain.

he moves a few feet ahead, drawn by the allure of it: darukaal. was it not where he’d always belonged? he had found kinship with cole, and a budding friendship with the rex, but that would never hold flame to what was his brotherhood with faust. they had been raised in two different worlds, but it never changed the truth: they were mirrors of one another. soul-mates.

tvar exhales a visible breath. he feels faust move behind him.

i am proud of you, faust.