Altar of Twilight ᓯᕐᓚᔪᖅ

he stood still beneath the canopy of stars, moonlight catching along the edge of his fur like silver caught in firelight. her voice—soft as wind over still water—met him with grace, and for a long moment, he only looked at her.

her amber gaze. her quiet smile.

a slow swallow. shoulders eased.

yes, he answered, the word low, spoken like a secret kept too long. she is bright tonight.

his eyes turned skyward, following the path of the moon as it bathed the valley in glow. then, back to her.

he blinked, breath misting faint in the cool air.

i am sólhárr. the name, given freely, weight behind it.