Rashien's gaze followed her wild, fractured, aching.
"I'm not afraid anymore," she said softly. "Of you. Of this place. Of myself."
For the first time, she saw Rashien as more than the mad fae lord who'd stolen her, saw the man beneath the madness, shattered though he was.
"Why did you keep me bound?" she asked.
He looked away, eyes dark pools of regret.
"Because I was afraid. Afraid of losing you. Afraid of the emptiness without you."
She stepped closer, heart thudding.
"Then let's stop being afraid."
Rashien's breath caught.
"But what if I'm too broken?"
"Then I'll help you piece yourself back together."
A silence stretched between them, fragile, tentative.
And in that silence, a fragile truce was born.
Outside the chamber, the forest of Samera whispered.
A storm was coming.
But for now, in the broken mirror room, two fractured souls stood facing the unknown, neither free, neither bound, but together.
