fine drizzle fell, soft enough to blur the edges of the gravestones, but persistent enough to chill Elara to the

a laughter that could fill a room. Now, she was gone, and the absen

mured condolences. Elara nodded politely, forcing a tight smile, but inside, she felt untethered. She didn't want their words. She didn't w

ood disappear into the earth. The sound of soil hitting wood was like a drumbeat in her ears, steady, relentles

er. "Elara..." he murmured, his voice

ack all morning, restrained by the need to appear composed, to meet the expectations of those

s were swallowed by the soft drizzle and the murmurs around her. The ache in her chest

son who had understood her oddities, her strange instincts, her dreams that seeme

Elara, hollow echoes she could barely process. She watched as friends placed flowers a

Her fingers lingered on the polished wood, feeling the cool surface beneath her palm. "I love you, Mom," she

ightly, letting her cry, letting her release the torrent of emotions she had bottled up for days. Around them, the crowd

a slow heartbeat. And then, in the midst of her sorrow, Elara felt it-a strange pull, a subtle tug at h

missed those stories as fantasy, comforting bedtime tales meant to spark imagination. But now, as she stood the

t never understood. The pull coiled in her chest, tightening with every heartbeat,

gh the haze again. "Elara... you d

ent, had always felt that the world she knew wasn't enough. And now, with her mo

self imagine what life could be-one where she understood herself, where the

of the world beyond human understanding. Sara had left more than love; s

prelude, a signal that her life was on the brink of change. Somewhere, across forests she had never walked,

of love, loss, and the life she was stepping away from. Her stepfather held her hand gentl

cker of recognition and longing, the stirrings of instincts she hadn't understood until now. The world she h

y, breathing deeply, an

ll find him. I'll fi

rst step toward her d