Arpious felt her chest tighten at those words, the weight of them sinking into her heart. She searched the witch's eyes, looking for any trace of deception or ulterior motive, but found none. There was only sincerity, only a deep well of empathy and compassion that she hadn't expected.
The witch's hand remained on her cheek, a steady anchor in the storm of emotions swirling within Arpious. For the first time in a long while, she felt truly seen, not as an empress, a warrior, or a ruler, but as a person—a tired, worn-out person who had been carrying too much for too long.
The tension in Arpious's body began to melt away, replaced by a warmth that spread from her chest outwards, filling her with a sense of relief she hadn't realized she needed. The witch's gaze remained steady, never wavering, as if to reassure her that it was okay to let go, to accept the comfort being offered without expecting anything in return.
