Malrick's pov
She wasn't there.
I knew it the moment I stepped into the northern watchtower, the wind dragging across the stone like a whisper of what had just happened. The place was empty, but the air still trembled with heat. And gods, I could smell it,the remnants of them. Of her. Of him.
The scent clung to the walls like smoke, thick with salt and skin and something raw. Intimate.
My eyes went to the cot in the corner, the blanket tangled, clawed at like someone had tried to hold on,and failed. I clenched my jaw until something inside cracked. The sound was small, almost imperceptible. But inside, it felt like a fault line splitting wide.
So this is what it had come to.
I walked slowly, each step deliberate, boots heavy on the stone as though the floor itself should carry the weight of what I was feeling. When I stopped in the center of the room, I let myself breathe in fully.
Her scent was still there.
Eira.
