The return journey to the hostel was silent. Only the cracking of twigs beneath our steps accompanied us as the moon traveled between the trees. The scent of earth, moss, and cold smoke hung in the air. Each breath felt heavy, as if carrying more than air—memories, unspoken words, promises.
The necklace lay warm against my skin, briefly shimmering in the moonlight with each step. I felt it with every movement—a weight that was small yet changed everything within me. Each heartbeat pulsed beneath it, as if it had found a new rhythm that had adapted to his.
Alaric walked beside me, hands deep in his pockets, gaze fixed ahead. His steps were calm, controlled, but the tension in his posture revealed that something was still resonating within him too. We said nothing. It was as if we both knew that words would only weaken what had happened in the cabin.
