Noctisardor Bypass wonderfully wandering alone

@Tadec srry here's a novel

The Governor was nothing if not fiercely avoidant. It had taken him no time at all to tarnish his relationships with their newest additions; he was certain Delight already knew about his terrible encounter with Queenie. Honestly, he hadn't stuck around to find out. He had fled with the rising sun, an inexplicable mix of dread and terror clutching at his chest the more he thought about it. Borders at his back once more, Alarian ran through the valley and beyond with a silent promise to return by the next night. No one would miss him in that time, he was sure.
It was much later when he finally stopped to rest, knowing he would go no further. Exhaustion had slowed his racing thoughts, slowly replacing them with questions. Why? Why did it matter so much?
Something sweet and achingly familiar carried on the wind, then; he froze, recognizing it only subconsciously for a few beats. Quite suddenly, he was aware of where he was; he stood surrounded by mountains, but somehow still open, exposed. His gaze flitted past smoothly sloping verdant hills, tracing the creek that wound through the plains. A vast lake marked the end of its path, ink-dark and shimmering moon-silver with each ripple. It was breathtaking, but—
The scent was what drew him closer, stronger than any drug. Rationality abandoned him; it could not be real, he knew— he knew, but he could not stop himself. Tenderly he held together the raw shards of his heart with the illusion. Mom? Alarian croaked, broken, into the night; he swore the scent grew stronger around him. He turned all around with ears flat and eyes wide, taking nervous steps backwards. The boy was at once full of hope and dread, grief and joy.
His mother was dead— he would never feel her embrace again, he told himself. Something dark flitted past his vision. Would never see her smile again. He turned. Would never tell her he loved her again. His eyes lifted, half-fearful—
And there was nothing. A choked sob tore from his throat, dying there; his eyes welled with hot tears, but none spilled. The Governor blinked them away, swallowed hard. He told himself he hadn't expected her— he hadn't, he hadn't. He wasn't crazy.