Morian's words echoed in my mind as I stared at the empty space where he had stood. "The hollow places within you will need to be filled." The truth of his taunt settled into me like a physical weight, making each step back to my chambers feel leaden.
I found myself pausing outside Alaric's room, watching through the cracked door as Eleanor gently stroked our son's hair. His color had returned, the dark veins of the Shadow Bloom completely vanished. By all measures, I had succeeded. I had saved him.
Yet the cost hung heavy on me.
"You should go in," came a soft voice behind me.
I turned to find Lyra, my wife of twenty years, her knowing eyes searching my face. Somehow, in my emotional numbness, I had reverted to calling her Eleanor in my thoughts – her formal name from our courting days, before she had asked family to use Lyra.
"I don't want to disturb them," I replied, the excuse sounding hollow even to my ears.
