(Amaia)
(This chapter is dedicated to my amazing reader who is bit under the weather. @Riemc. I hope you feel better.)
Saiph's massive figure envelops me in his embrace, and I let my face rest on his broad chest with a sniffle.
"You are crying? I thought I trained you better than this," he says in his rough voice, which is prickly at the edges but still holds concerns in the centre.
His gloved hand holds my chin steady and he lifts it up.
"You are not a crybaby. You are Amaia Zhāng, the last of her kind. You bend others and give them strength," he says fiercely and firmly.
Saiph's words give me clarity. He is wise beyond age, has to be the wisest in the rowdy bunch of five. He keeps me grounded, he keeps me in check, and he shows me the mirror.
"I am afraid…" I say with a sniffle, trying not to cry but Alnilam's words keep echoing in my brain.
