The air around us felt suspended, timeless. A vast expanse of empty beauty surrounded us, as if the fabric of space and time itself had paused to observe this moment.
Eve knelt before me, her spirals now slow and steady, her presence no longer oppressive but strangely serene. Yet, even in this calm, an underlying fragility lingered, as if this newfound gentleness might shatter with a single misstep.
I gazed at her, something warm swelling in my chest—an unfamiliar yet welcome sensation. I wanted to give her something worth remembering, something she could carry even in the face of all she had endured.
Before I could second-guess myself, I reached out, clasping one of her floating hands. It felt tangible now, no longer the eldritch phantom that had once sought destruction. Gently, I guided it to my cheek, pressing its spectral warmth against my skin. The tenderness of the act startled even me.
