Eldur's POV
Her breathing was soft—too soft.
I sat on the edge of the couch, elbows on my knees, staring at the curve of her brow. Her lashes fluttered every now and then, like she was dreaming. I wanted to believe it was something sweet. Something far from what happened tonight. Far from me.
My heart hadn't stopped pounding since the moment I caught her.
I'd never held anything that mattered this much. Not magic, not power. Not even myself. Only her.
Nova.
I whispered her name like a prayer I didn't deserve to say.
And I waited.
Watched.
Listened.
Worried like I wasn't the kind of man people feared in alleys and whispered about in the dark.
I was used to silence. To standing alone. To being the shadow in someone's nightmare. But this silence? This one was different.
It hurt.
"Nova," I murmured again, brushing a thumb against her hand. "Come on, wake up."
And as if the wind heard me, she stirred.
Her breath hitched. Her fingers twitched.
Then—her eyes opened.
