For a moment that stretched into eternity, Eiravyne hesitated, unsure how to comfort him or whether he even wanted to be comforted by her.
She searched his eyes for some sign of what had caused this outburst, but found only turmoil and anguish staring back at her.
"Ilkar," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the echoes of his scream.
Her heart ached with a mixture of emotions—confusion and a lingering sense of hurt. She wanted to reach out to him, to understand, but feared pushing him further away.
She could never sit still watching someone screaming like this even if he was her enemy .
Slowly, tentatively, Eiravyne withdrew her hands from his face, the warmth of his skin lingering on her fingertips.
Feeling the urgency to comfort him, Eiravyne's hands trembled as she gently wrapped her arms around Ilkar's neck.
