Draven’s Consolation
The days passed in a haze of despair for Isla. The vibrant hum of the packhouse, once a comforting reminder of home, now felt like a constant reminder of her failure. Every distant cry, every fleeting shadow across the forest beyond, stirred false hope that her children were returning. Each disappointment crushed her a little more.
Her silver eyes, dulled by grief, stared unseeing at the horizon as she sat by the window in her quarters. The room, once a sanctuary, now felt suffocating. The walls seemed to close in on her, her own thoughts the chains that bound her. Memories of the twins—her son’s first wail, her daughter’s tiny, perfect fingers—played over and over, breaking her heart anew with each recollection.
Draven, her unwavering shadow, refused to leave her side. Though his grief was evident in his tightened jaw and the constant storm in his amber eyes, he poured his energy into being her anchor. He spoke little, but his presence was a silent promise: he would not let her bear this pain alone.
One evening, as the moonlight painted the room in silver, Isla sat on the bed, her arms wrapped around her knees. Her hair fell in tangled waves over her shoulders, and her face was pale, etched with exhaustion and sorrow. Draven pulled a chair close to her, his gaze softening as he took in her fragile form.
“You can’t give up,” he said quietly, his deep voice breaking the heavy silence. The words hung in the air, gentle but unyielding.
Isla turned to him, her voice trembling. “I feel like I’m drowning, Draven. Every second without them… it feels like I’m being torn apart. They’re out there somewhere, and I can’t help them.” Her silver eyes shimmered with unshed tears, her hands twisting the fabric of her dress.
Draven reached out, taking one of her hands in his. His grip was warm, grounding. “Then I’ll pull you back to the surface,” he said firmly. “You’re not alone in this, Isla. You never have been. And we’re not giving up. Not now, not ever.”
Isla looked at him, her resolve flickering to life like a candle in the wind. “What if… what if we don’t find them? What if they’re gone?”
Draven’s voice softened, but his words were unshakable. “We will find them. I don’t care how long it takes or what it costs. I won’t let anyone take them from us. And I won’t let anyone take you from me, either.”
Tears finally spilled down Isla’s cheeks, and she leaned into Draven’s embrace. His arms wrapped around her, holding her together as her grief poured out. For the first time in days, she let herself cry, not out of weakness but because she knew she didn’t have to bear this alone.
