Altar of Twilight ᓯᕐᓚᔪᖅ

his ears turned at her voice, but he did not look. not yet.

i do, he said simply.

fate. even if it had teeth. even if it had taken callyope from him and left silence in her place. belief did not protect a man—it only gave him something to walk beside when the world turned cold.

the pause after his words stretched long. not uncomfortable, but worn—like an old stone smoothed by time.

the path is still there, he said at last. even if i walk it alone.

he didn’t mean it as sorrow. just truth. he had known the weight of solitude long before she had gone.

for a time, he let her silence live beside his own. her prayer lingered between them like incense, curling soft and unseen. finally, his voice broke it—gravel in tone, but not unkind.

if the winds brought you here…
his gaze shifted now, slow and heavy, until it found her profile.
…then may they bring you purpose, too.

no smile. but there was something steady in his eyes, something that did not drift with the wind.