Arik's mouth flattened.
Amara leaned back against the pillows, exhausted by the laugh, but there was something lighter in her face now. Not happiness. Nothing that generous. Recognition, perhaps. Or relief sharp enough to hurt.
"You may be right," she said. "Perhaps you are the future of him. Perhaps that is the only way someone like Goliath could survive himself. Not by returning unchanged, but by becoming someone who can stand in front of his daughter and argue metaphysics instead of apologizing."
Arik said nothing.
"But you should make declarations after you remember everything," Amara continued, softer now. "Not before."
The cold inside him returned.
"You think that will happen."
"I know it will."
"Because of your cards?"
