Moonstone Quarry And I pray that I'll make it before the night's up

callyope, her absence still a shadow across his heart. the pain of her loss felt too real, too present, even in the stillness of the moment.

he gave a slow, thoughtful nod, his gaze turning outward, toward the quiet mountains that cradled their home. yes, he murmured softly, voice low, rough as it always was when touched by grief, she haunts me. the words hung there, carried by the wind, but he did not elaborate further. the moon’s light, the ghost of her, both had their places in his heart, and neither could be chased away.

when she spoke of her dream, solharr’s expression shifted. his brow furrowed in quiet contemplation. drowning. the light. the fear. it all rang with a familiar sort of weight, a memory he could not grasp but still felt deep in his bones.

he shifted closer, his presence a steady warmth beside her, offering what comfort he could without words. it sounds real enough, he said softly, memories... or warnings. i don’t know. he met her gaze then, his eye steady but gentle. had they been a warning about him? if you want me to go...

the silence between them was deep, the quiet of the night weaving through their words. solharr didn’t have answers, but he did have presence, a steady strength that had been tempered by loss and time.