Sahora looked like she wanted to hit something.
Elyon.
A tree.
Anything that breathed.
Don’t, I sent gently through the bond. They are right. If the Fates say they should come, they probably should.
She sank her teeth into a frustrated exhale.
“I just don’t understand,” she snapped, fists clenched, “why all of you let fate decide so damn much.”
The air tightened around her, as the forest itself braced for the storm she carried.
“Sahora,” I said carefully, “I know you don’t understand, but the only way to understand is to follow it and see where it leads. The Fates have a plan. We just have to trust it.”
“I don’t—” she sucked in a shaking breath, “—trust anything. Let alone someone telling me how to live my life.”
The storm inside her rippled outward. Trees curved away from us as the wind picked up, leaves rattling like they were afraid.
“Fuck this!”
She stormed off, the wind following her like an angry, loyal dog. She slapped at it, trying to force it still.
“Fuckin’ magic everything. It even got me.”
She stalked down a hill, arms thrown up in frustration.
“Because you have always been connected to Celentra,” I called after her, following.
“Ugh, say something normal, Oliver. You sound like a fucking priest.”
“I am a priest.”
“You can’t be a priest to me. You need to be you. What would you say about all this? Truly.”
I swallowed.
Raw truth clawed at my tongue.
“I’d say fuck this,” I admitted. “Fuck my oath. Fuck bringing Kathera back. Fuck all of it except…”
I forced a breath into my lungs.
“Except you.”
Her storm paused.
The air hummed, then stilled.
“Me?”
Her voice was small, like she had been struck.
“Yes. You. Not Kathera’s soul. You, Sahora.”
I stepped closer. “You are everything I could ever want, and it terrifies me. I can’t imagine losing you, but in the same breath, I’m scared of you. If the Fates put us together, it is for a reason. I’ll trust that reason. I’ll trust whatever they planned. I wish you would trust it too.”
The storm dissolved into a light breeze.
“I can’t promise I trust these Fates of yours,” she murmured, shoulders drooping. “But I can trust you.”
Her whole body sagged.
The storm left her empty, exhausted.
“Oliv… e… r…”
She swayed as I stepped toward her.
“I think…” she mumbled as I lifted her into my arms.
“We…” she continued while I carried her toward a flat spot beneath a tree.
“Need to…”
I nodded and set her down long enough to roll out the bedrolls.
“Set up…” she tried again as I picked her up.
“Camp,” I finished, setting her gently onto her bedroll.
She rolled over immediately, already half asleep.