(fragment, ink blotched where the quill lingered too long)
She said it.
Not with hesitation. Not as jest.
She woke, looked at me, and spoke it as if it had always been true.
I have chased power across scroll and stone, certain that strength alone would make me whole. Yet a single word from her undid me more completely than any spell ever cast.
Love.
It terrifies me.
It steadies me.
I do not know how it can be both.
I wanted to answer. The word rose in my throat and lodged there like a blade. How could I give it voice, when everything I hold has always—eventually—broken in my hands?
But her eyes… they believed it already.
Without my saying it. Without earning it.
As though the world had never taught her to fear me.
So I kissed her instead.
And for the first time in my life, silence felt like enough.