For a moment, the world forgot to move.
The river roared below, the wind pressed against the bridge, and yet — between them — there was only stillness.
Thalia stood frozen at the far end, her cloak clinging to her shoulders, her hair glowing like fire even under the gray sky. William stared at her, unmoving, breath caught in his chest.
He thought his mind was playing tricks again — another ghost, another cruel dream. But the longer he looked, the more real she became. Her eyes, her stance, the faint tremor in her hands.
"Thalia…" he whispered, barely a breath.
Her lips parted. She blinked once, as though trying to make sense of what her heart already knew. "William?"
The sound of his name in her voice broke something inside him.
He stumbled forward, then ran boots pounding against the bridge. "Thalia!"
She took a step, then another, and suddenly she was running too. The mist curled around them, and when they met, it was with the force of every sleepless night, every unspoken prayer.
Their bodies collided — armor against cloak, heartbeat against heartbeat. His arms wrapped around her, tight, desperate, as though she might vanish again if he let go.
For a moment, neither spoke. The world was silent but for the trembling breath they shared.
"I thought you were dead," Thalia said, her voice breaking. She clutched his shoulders, her eyes glistening. "I saw the fires. I saw everything burn. I—"
He pulled her closer, his own voice rough. "So did I. But you're here. You're alive."
Her forehead pressed against his chest. "And you," she whispered. "You're warm."
He smiled faintly, a sound somewhere between laughter and tears. "So are you."
They stood there like that — holding onto what little warmth the world had left — while the rain finally began to fall, soft and clean, as if even the sky was relieved they'd found each other again.