The night wrapped the forest in silver dusk.
The gentle ripple of the stream echoed like the earth's heartbeat,
and moonlight filtered through trembling leaves, refusing to abandon her path.
Mindra tightened her grip around his hand.
Warmth flowed into her chest slowly, steadying her trembling heart.
She was not alone in the darkness.
She knew then: the shadows were not her only enemy.
Sometimes the greatest danger… lives inside our past.
"I thought I was strong," Mindra whispered.
"But the closer I walk toward my future… the more terrified I am of losing someone again."
He stopped and turned to her,
eyes deep as an ocean at midnight—still on the surface, storm beneath.
"Fear isn't weakness, Mindra," he murmured.
"It means this time… you don't want to lose what matters."
Her shoulders trembled.
Memories pressed against her chest like thorns.
He gently brushed his thumb over her trembling hand.
"This isn't your old world," he whispered.
"And this time, you won't walk it alone."
A sudden rustle burst from the bushes—
two crimson eyes glowed in the dark.
Mindra froze, clutching his sleeve.
"It's here again…" she breathed.
The shadow stepped out slowly.
But instead of snarling or striking—
it bowed.
Not a threat.
A plea.
Tears welled in Mindra's eyes.
"It's not trying to hurt us," she whispered.
"It's asking for help."
He stared at her—truly stared—
as if realizing for the first time…
She was not merely shielded by light.
She was born from it.