Chapter 17

  They had been circling for what felt like hours.

  Elena squinted at the sun—still high in the sky—and then back at the overgrown trail that curved like a serpent through the thinning trees. She clutched the map close to her chest, holding it in one hand and rotating it for the seventh time in the last ten minutes. It didn’t help. The map still refused to make sense, like it had conspired against her.

  Behind her, Ember stomped with increasingly heavy steps, her eyes flickering from the woods to the sky to Elena's back like she was trying to decide whether to scream or bolt. “Elena,” she said, voice tightly reined, “we’ve been walking in circles.”

  “We’re not,” Elena lied without missing a beat. “I know where we are.”

  “Oh really?” Ember's voice rose in pitch. “Because this tree—” she pointed sharply to a wide tree with red bark and a strange split down its middle “—I’ve seen this tree. Four times.”

  Elena didn’t even glance. “It’s just a similar tree.”

  “It has a scar that looks like Snacks!”

  Elena finally turned and offered her most innocent look. “Coincidences happen.”

  “We’re lost,” Ember hissed, coming to a halt. “We’re absolutely, definitely lost, and I’ve been here for forty minutes following you around this stupid root maze.”

  Elena held up the map. “The location is close. We’re almost there. Just… just a few more steps.”

  Ember’s jaw clenched. Her fingers twitched like they wanted to punch something—or someone.

  “Okay,” she said slowly, voice shaking with a calm that felt like the eye of a storm. “Then walk. Let’s go. Lead the way.”

  Elena turned, but before she could take a full step, Ember grabbed her by the wrist and slammed her against the thick root-laced wall behind them. Elena gasped, stumbling back with a thud. The impact wasn’t hard, not really—but it was sudden and emotional.

  “You have no idea where we are!” Ember shouted, eyes flashing. “You keep pretending like you’re guiding us but you’re just—just walking in circles! Why can’t you just say it?! Why—”

  The wall gave way.

  The root structure behind Elena crunched—not like stone but like hollow twigs—and then collapsed inward. Elena yelped as the floor beneath them vanished, and in a tangle of limbs and half-screamed curses, both of them tumbled through the wall and fell.

  But they didn’t hit stone.

  They landed with a whuff on something soft, springy, almost moss-like.

  Elena blinked up at a gentle green glow.

  And Ember…

  Ember was on top of her, arms braced on either side of Elena's head, face inches away, pressed awkwardly—softly—against Elena’s chest.

  Time stopped.

  Neither of them moved.

  Ember’s face went a furious shade of crimson, and her voice squeaked as she scrambled off her, sitting upright like she’d just been electrocuted. “Wh—why would you stand like that!?”

  “I wasn’t standing, I was being shoved,” Elena snapped, cheeks equally flushed, still lying there frozen. Then she blinked, slowly taking in their surroundings. “Wait...”

  Ember stood, brushing off her clothes. “Great. Moss. We fell into a swamp cave. And no Asters. We’re just lost in a different direction now.”

  Elena sat up beside her, rubbing her arm, and then—with a sudden shift in her expression—reached up and tugged Ember back down beside her.

  “Hey!” Ember sputtered.

  “Look.”

  The annoyance on Ember’s face didn’t fade immediately, but her eyes followed Elena’s gesture—upward.

  Her breath caught.

  The roof of the cave stretched wide and dome-like, a soft natural cathedral of earth and woven roots. But it wasn’t the shape that held her attention—it was the colors.

  A massive, glowing field of Aster flowers bloomed upside down, hanging from the ceiling as if the earth above had flipped. Their petals shimmered with the light filtering through crystal-lined fissures, catching the wind from an unseen current that sent blossoms drifting downward like snowflakes.

  As they watched, a gust of wind stirred the flowers gently—and a rain of violet and white petals floated down, dancing around them like something out of a dream.

  Ember stared, awe overtaking her face. “...That’s…”

  “Aster Fields,” Elena finished softly.

  They sat in silence for a beat, petals still falling. A few landed on Ember’s hair, and Elena reached out to brush one off without thinking.

  “Told you I knew the way,” Elena added, a smirk forming.

  Ember turned to her, eyes narrowed. “It was a fluke.”

  “Was it?” Elena teased, scooting just an inch closer. “Maybe the flowers were just waiting for you.”

  Ember rolled her eyes, but there was color blooming on her cheeks again. “You’re so annoying.”

  The soft sound of water dripping from high roots echoed gently in the cave as the two girls walked along the narrow trail, their footsteps muffled by the moss-covered floor. Petals from the aster ceiling still floated down slowly, catching on their hair, shoulders, even the folds of their clothes. Elena had stopped glancing at the path entirely—her head tilted back, neck craned as she walked, completely enamored with the delicate blooms that hovered above them like stars.

  “I think,” Ember muttered, half dragging her feet, “you’re going to permanently break your neck at this rate.”

  Elena didn’t answer. Her eyes sparkled with the reflected light from the flower field above, lips parted just slightly, as if in a trance.

  “Elena,” Ember said again, louder. “I’m serious. Stop looking at the ceiling for once in your life, you're about to—”

  Before she could finish, Elena stumbled with a yelp. Her boot had just missed a slippery puddle that glistened between twisted roots.

  But Ember’s hand shot out.

  She grabbed Elena by the elbow just in time, steadying her before she fell face-first into the muddy water. The touch lingered longer than necessary, Ember’s fingers pressing tightly into her arm before she yanked her hand back with a huff. “See? Told you.”

  Elena blinked, finally looking at the ground. “Oh. Oops.”

  “Oops?” Ember raised an eyebrow. “I just saved you from looking like a drowned ferret and all I get is oops?”

  Elena grinned sheepishly. “You really like ferrets, don’t you?”

  “I swear to Golust, Elena, I will shake you if you don’t start acting normal.”

  Elena laughed under her breath, still looking upward.

  But Ember didn’t shake her. She couldn’t. Not when she noticed the light at the end of the path ahead—the faint shimmer of day beyond roots and rock. They were almost out.

  She swallowed down the breath caught in her throat and walked in silence behind Elena, letting her soft, distracted humming fill the air between them.

  When they finally emerged from the cavern, it was like walking into another world.

  The ceiling of flowers gave way to wide skies brushed with soft lavender clouds. A warm breeze greeted them, rustling the tall grass and sending the last few aster petals tumbling from their hair. The landscape ahead was sprawling—lush fields and soft hills, all tinged gold by the lowering sun.

  Elena paused just outside the cave, turning back to look at where they’d come from. The entrance now looked like a hidden pocket in the cliff, a secret only they had found. “That was…” she whispered, eyes full of something Ember couldn’t name, “so unique. So beautiful.”

  Ember walked past her, quiet for a beat. Then, with a sudden and uncharacteristic gentleness, she reached up and tucked a full-bloomed aster—fresh and glowing—into the strands of Elena’s dark hair.

  Her fingers brushed Elena’s temple.

  “Yes,” she said softly, staring directly into Elena’s eyes. “It is very beautiful.”

  Elena blinked, her eyes wide at first, then slowly softening as she gazed back. The wind caught her cloak, making it flutter, and strands of her hair danced around her face like whispers.

  They stood like that for a moment, silence stretching between them—breathing the same air, standing in the same sun, everything around them fading into hush.

  Then Elena leaned forward.

  Just a little.

  Just enough to close the distance.

  But Ember pulled back. Quickly. Almost abruptly. She stepped back with her face turned away, voice light but too quick, too strained.

  “So,” she said. “Where to next?”

  Elena blinked, mouth still parted. Her hands had stilled mid-air, as if they’d been reaching for something that no longer existed.

  “Is there a population nearby?” Ember added, already beginning to walk forward. Her voice echoed with practiced indifference. “We need supplies. Can’t live on half-burnt breakfasts forever.”

  Elena didn’t reply immediately. Her heart was thudding in her chest, and something inside her felt fragile—like a thread had snapped.

  Ember’s back was facing her.

  She didn’t look back once as she moved across the grass, hands stuffed into the pockets of her coat.

  Then, instinctively—just before she turned—she looked over her shoulder.

  “Elena?”

  Nothing.

  The path behind her was empty.

  Elena was gone.

  “...Elena?” she called louder this time, her heart skipping.

  Still nothing.

  She spun in place, eyes darting left and right. There was no sound—no crunch of footsteps, no laughter, no rustle of her cloak. Only wind, and grass, and the fading scent of asters in the breeze.

  Then—

  Everything went black.

  Elena stirred first.

  Her body ached dully as if it had been dropped—not violently, but just enough to bruise her ego. She blinked up at a ceiling made of soft stone, surprisingly smooth and pale. The room around her was dim but not unpleasant—no damp dripping corners or chains rattling. In fact, the ground was padded with... feathers?

  You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

  Her brows furrowed. It smelled like lavender and dust.

  She turned her head slowly.

  There, curled against the far wall, arms tucked beneath her cheek, hair falling in a disheveled halo around her face, was Ember—fast asleep.

  Elena stared at her for a moment.

  Then blinked.

  Then sat upright with a jolt. “Wait—what—what the—?!” Her voice cracked from dryness, but the panic was very much alive. She crawled over to Ember in a flurry of limbs, her heart thudding. “Ember! Wake up! Wake up—wake—!”

  She started shaking her.

  "Ember! Come on!"

  Ember groaned softly, face scrunching. “Wha—why are you—stop—ugh—”

  But Elena didn’t stop.

  She was shaking her like a rag doll, frantic. “Wake up! We’re—oh no, not again, not again! Where are we!?”

  Ember shot upright, half-asleep still, her hair sticking up like a feathered explosion. “What the—stop shaking me like a demon toddler, I’m awake now!”

  Only then did Elena freeze mid-shake, suddenly realizing her hands were still gripping Ember’s shoulders.

  “Oh,” she whispered, slowly letting go. “Right. Sorry.”

  Ember blinked at her, dazed. “You shook me like I was a maraca.”

  “I panicked!”

  “I could feel your panic, Elena, it was leaking through your hands!”

  “Well excuse me for caring if you were dead!”

  They sat there in silence for a second before Ember rubbed her face and muttered, “You’re lucky you’re cute when you panic.”

  “What?”

  “Nothing.”

  Elena narrowed her eyes but didn’t press. Instead, she looked around. The cell was oddly clean. No chains. No dirt. No cold. Just... feathers. Hundreds of white, grey, and beige feathers scattered on the soft floor like birds had molted a thousand years’ worth of fluff.

  The bars were glassy, translucent like crystal. Beyond them, bright daylight filtered in.

  “Well,” Elena said slowly. “At least it doesn’t smell like wet socks.”

  Ember stood up, brushing herself off. “Where even are we? This is too clean. It’s—unnerving.”

  “I don’t know,” Elena said, standing beside her. “But it’s better than the cave prison from before. Remember? The one where you kept kicking me in your sleep?”

  “That was not kicking. That was defensive movement.”

  “Defensive? You rolled over and planted a knee directly in my stomach.”

  “You snore like a storm spirit, Elena. You woke up the entire bat population with that nose.”

  Elena gasped, hand to chest. “I do not snore.”

  “Oh no? You hum like a flute stuck in a wind tunnel.”

  “I don’t hum! I breathe. Normally.”

  “It’s like sleeping next to a haunted lullaby,” Ember muttered, inspecting the bars.

  “And you toss and turn like you’re doing interpretive dance in your sleep!” Elena shot back. “You punched the tent wall once and muttered something about soup.”

  Ember blinked. “Oh. That was a good dream.”

  Elena crossed her arms. “It was terrifying.”

  Their bickering grew louder and louder, voices bouncing off the curved walls until—

  “SHUT UP!” roared a voice from outside.

  They both snapped their heads toward the bars. A tall figure stood just outside the cell, armored in some sort of pale, feather-like plate. His face was hidden, but his voice was gravelly and annoyed.

  Ember’s expression shifted immediately.

  “Oh-ho no,” she growled, stepping up to the bars. “No one tells me to shut up—who even are you!? What is this place? Why are we locked up!? We haven’t done anything! Do you know who we are?”

  The guard didn’t answer.

  Ember stepped closer. Her hand sparked faintly, a shimmer of red heat around her fingertips. “Let us out. Right now. Or I swear by the stars of Orion, I will make these bars melt and wrap them around your—”

  “Elena,” she snapped over her shoulder, “back me up here!”

  Elena quickly stepped forward and grabbed her wrist, pulling her back just before she could fire up her sigil. “No—no! No using your powers right now!”

  Ember whipped her head around to glare at her. “What’s the plan then, princess, if not this!?”

  Elena huffed. “I’m thinking!”

  “Oh, now you’re thinking!? You had all the time in the Aster Fields to think, but you were too busy nearly walking into puddles and stargazing during the day!”

  “At least I wasn’t trying to fight ancient root-walls or yell at Ki-Rins in my sleep!”

  “That Ki-Rin was asking for it!”

  Elena groaned and looked up at the ceiling, muttering, “Why does the universe keep locking me in cages with this chaotic lunatic?”

  “Hey, you love this chaotic lunatic.”

  Elena froze.

  Ember blinked.

  There was a thick pause between them before Elena said, quieter now, “I—I mean, yeah, but maybe not in a cell!”

  They both laughed, just a little, shoulders touching as they leaned near the bars again. Ember glanced sideways and whispered, “You really okay?”

  “No,” Elena admitted, voice softer. “But I’ve got you. So I’ll manage.”

  Ember didn’t say anything for a long second.

  But her hand brushed Elena’s just briefly. A silent agreement.

  Then she turned back toward the guard, squaring her shoulders. “Right. Let’s do this your way, princess. But only because I don’t want to waste good fire on idiots.”

  Elena smirked. “That’s the spirit.”

  And for the first time since waking up, they both stood side by side, still bickering under their breath—but now with a plan forming between their eyes.

  The cell had grown stuffier by the minute, the warmth of the day sneaking in through the cracks in the stone. The guard's footsteps outside had grown lazy, rhythmic, like they didn’t expect much from the girls locked inside. Elena sat in the corner, arms curled around her knees, her eyes darting between the barred window and Ember, who was pacing with increasing agitation.

  “I’m not going to sit here and wait,” Ember hissed. “This whole place smells like bird droppings and injustice.”

  Elena gave a soft chuckle despite herself. “That’s poetic.”

  “I’m not joking!” Ember’s fingers were twitching. A familiar heat began to build around her. “They took our packs. Our maps. Betty.”

  At the name of the walking stick, Elena winced. “You really named that thing?”

  “It got me out of worse caves than this.”

  Before Elena could stop her, Ember reached for the air with a growl. A spark danced along her palm—golden at first, then scarlet. The guards outside had underestimated her. They always did.

  “Elena. On my back.”

  “What—wait, no, Ember—”

  “Now!”

  Before she could argue, Ember scooped her up like she weighed nothing. With a guttural cry, she slammed both hands into the back wall of the cell. The stone screamed. Then cracked. Then exploded in a burst of roaring fire that sent feathers and ash spiraling into the air.

  The guards—at least they looked like guards—hadn’t even made it to them yet. They stood stunned at the edge of the smoke, avian creatures with feathers around their arms and cheeks, and beaks where mouths should’ve been. One of them let out a shriek that sounded more like a whistle than any word.

  “What the hell—?” Elena gasped, clutching Ember’s shoulders. “Are those even Iorphian?”

  “Not sticking around to ask,” Ember growled. Flames curled around her fists. Her boots dug into the stone as she charged forward.

  The bird-men scattered, some trying to fly, others stumbling backward. Ember didn't stop. One fell beneath her fist, another caught in the flames at her heel. The hallway lit with flickers of red and gold as the fire obeyed her every move.

  “Elena, cover your head.”

  “I am—Ember, stop—!”

  But she didn’t. Her power, wild and radiant, pulsed with every punch. Her hair flared behind her like a comet’s tail. And something in her eyes had changed—not just focus, but fury. No hesitation.

  The voice echoed in Elena’s mind again.

  Fool. She is chaos. That’s all they bring.

  “Elena, are you okay?” Ember’s voice called out from above the din, but Elena wasn’t listening anymore. Her breath was short. Her heart heavy.

  “Ember, stop. Stop. You’re scaring me.”

  But Ember didn’t stop. She couldn’t hear her anymore—lost in the fire, in the thrill of destruction, the cursed blood burning through her. Her skin glowed, a red-orange hue that shimmered like molten metal.

  “Elena!” Ember called again, her voice distant.

  And then—

  A searing pain.

  Elena screamed.

  A wall of flame had flared too close. Her arm—her bare forearm—caught the edge of the fire. She tumbled off Ember’s back, hitting the ground with a cry that split through the chaos.

  The silence that followed was deafening.

  Elena curled into herself, clutching her arm, tears rolling down her cheeks. She didn't sob loudly—it was soft, trembling, broken. Ember froze mid-step, her body still glowing with heat, the flame on her back still licking the air.

  “Elena...?” her voice was so small.

  The creatures were gone—fled or unconscious, it didn’t matter. All that was left was the sound of Elena’s shallow, pained breathing and the acrid scent of smoke.

  “I told you... to stop...” Elena whispered, her voice cracking.

  Ember dropped to her knees, staring at the red burn on Elena’s skin. It was bright. Angry. Her fire did that.

  “No... no, I didn’t mean to—I wasn’t trying to hurt you—I...” Her voice shook like she was on the verge of breaking.

  “I know you didn’t,” Elena whispered, not looking at her. “But you did.”

  “I was just trying to protect you. Get us out of here. I didn’t think—”

  “That’s the problem!” Elena finally looked at her, her eyes filled with tears and something deeper. Fear. Hurt. “You don’t think. You burn. You destroy. And you don’t stop until someone gets hurt.”

  Ember’s hands hovered in the air, still warm, still too dangerous. “I didn’t mean it. I didn’t mean it, I didn’t—Elena—” She reached out, but didn’t touch her. She couldn’t.

  Elena turned her face away, still holding her arm, tears sliding silently down her cheek. Ember stared at her palms. Her fingers. Her cursed fire.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

  And for the first time since she had discovered her power, Ember looked afraid of herself.

  The silence felt louder than any battle. The smoke had settled, the feathers no longer floated in the air, and the scorched stone beneath them still radiated a fading heat. Ember knelt beside Elena, her hands trembling—not from fire, but from the cold guilt seeping into her skin like icewater.

  “I can fix it,” Ember said softly, voice cracking as she reached for Elena’s arm. “Let me just see—”

  But Elena pulled back sharply, her breath catching.

  “No.”

  “Elena, please.”

  “I said no.”

  The pain was clearly etched in her face, but the hurt went deeper than just the wound. Elena’s eyes weren’t looking at Ember anymore—not really. They were distant, watching something else. Remembering something else.

  “That voice,” she muttered, almost to herself. “It said… cursed ones destroy. Cursed ones take everything.”

  Ember’s heart clenched.

  “That’s not what happened,” she said quickly, reaching again—but Elena stood, staggering slightly. Ember followed.

  “I told you to stop,” Elena continued, voice quieter now, almost hollow. “I begged you to stop, and you didn’t listen. You… you looked like…”

  Elena didn’t finish the sentence. She didn’t have to.

  She looked at Ember the way someone might look at a lightning storm on the horizon—beautiful, distant… and terrifying.

  “I didn’t mean to hurt you,” Ember whispered, her voice cracking under the weight of it. “I didn’t even realize I had. I didn’t know I could—”

  “You didn’t want to know.”

  That stopped Ember cold.

  “You keep running from it,” Elena said, eyes still not quite meeting hers. “From what it means to have that mark. That sigil. You joke about being cursed. But when it takes over—you like it. You let it.”

  Ember’s jaw tightened. “You think I wanted this?! You think I wanted to be born with this curse?! That I enjoy being scared of myself every time I touch someone?!”

  “You weren’t scared back there,” Elena said sharply. “You were enjoying the fight. You were glowing, Ember.”

  The words stung. Deeper than the fire ever could. Ember looked down at her hands—hands that had carried Elena, shielded her… and burned her.

  “I thought I was protecting you.”

  “You didn’t even look at me.”

  The silence that followed was suffocating. The soft crackle of the burnt feathers under Ember’s feet. The gentle hiss of her powers dying down completely.

  Elena finally looked at her. Really looked at her.

  “I know you're not like them, Ember. Not really. But I’m starting to understand what they meant.”

  “Don’t say that.” Ember’s voice was barely a whisper. “Please don’t say that.”

  “I need some space.”

  “Elena—”

  “I need space,” she said again, firmer this time, taking a slow step back. “I’ll find a way out of here. You… you need to figure out who you’re fighting. Because if it’s the world, fine. But if it’s you… then I can’t keep standing in the middle of it.”

  Ember didn’t follow.

  She just stood there, in the center of the ruined corridor, with nothing but burned stone around her and the memory of Elena’s scream echoing in her head.

  The quiet that followed was unnatural. Heavy. Elena sat with her back against the cool bark of a tree, legs stretched out in front of her, the throbbing pain on her arm pulsing with every heartbeat. The burn left behind by Ember's fire marked her skin, blistering at the edges, angry and red.

  She didn’t cry. Not anymore. But her eyes were hollow.

  Ember stood not far off, her hands still slightly glowing from the residual heat of her powers. They were trembling.

  “I didn’t mean to—” Ember started, her voice barely above a whisper, but Elena didn’t even look up.

  “I know what I saw,” Elena said. Her voice was flat. Broken in places. “You liked it.”

  “I didn’t—” Ember stepped closer, then stopped. Her heart was hammering in her chest. She could still hear the echo of Elena’s scream. It played in her head like a cursed tune.

  “You looked right at me when you did it,” Elena murmured, finally glancing up, her eyes glassy. “And you kept going.”

  That broke something in Ember. She knelt down, close but not too close. “Let me patch it,” she offered. Her voice was rough now, almost hoarse. “Please. Let me at least… help.”

  There was a long pause. Then Elena turned her arm toward her, jaw clenched. “Fine. Just… don’t talk.”

  Ember’s hands shook as she unwrapped the kit from her satchel. She didn’t say a word. She cleaned the burn with soft dabs of cool cloth, and when Elena winced, she flinched too. She wrapped it in silence, avoiding her eyes, her lips pressed into a hard line. When she was done, she set the cloth down beside them and stood up, about to walk away.

  “Where are you going?” Elena asked suddenly.

  “I’ll make you a shelter,” Ember said softly, not turning back. “You need to rest. I shouldn’t be around you right now.”

  Elena’s brows furrowed. Her voice came out harsh, tinged with desperation. “I said stay.”

  Ember paused, head low. Her eyes began to sting.

  “I need you to stay and make me a tent,” Elena clarified, swallowing. “But I also need you to match the pace of what you just did to me. So sit down. And stay.”

  Ember didn't argue. She returned, quietly building a small lean-to out of what little she could gather—branches, a wide piece of cloth, some moss. It was sloppy, lopsided, but it held. She didn’t go in.

  She sat outside it, her arms folded over her knees, gaze fixed on the fire they hadn’t lit, eyes shimmering with regret.

  Inside the tent, Elena lay down, cradling her arm. Her eyes followed the shifting canopy above, patches of sky visible through the treetops. Her thoughts were tangled threads—words the light had said, the images she’d seen, the truths she didn’t want to believe.

  “Ember,” she called suddenly, voice low but clear.

  A pause. “Yeah?”

  “Come here.”

  Silence. Then Ember stood and hesitated at the tent’s edge. “I don’t think I should.”

  Elena sat up, face tired, eyes rimmed with unshed tears. “I need you. Don’t make me say it again.”

  That finally pulled Ember forward. She entered, slow and cautious, and sat on the edge of the makeshift bed.

  Elena took her hand. “Lie down.”

  “I—”

  “Lie down.”

  Ember obeyed. The moment she did, Elena turned and threw her arms around her, holding her tighter than she had ever held anyone before. She buried her face in her shoulder.

  “I’m sorry,” Elena whispered. “I went too far too. I just— I didn’t know what to feel. And I let it hurt us both.”

  Ember’s breath hitched. Her arms came up around her slowly. “I should’ve stopped. The second I heard you scream, I should’ve…”

  “You did stop.” Elena looked up, locking eyes with her. “You stopped the moment it mattered.”

  Ember was quiet. Then she asked, voice barely audible, “What if… I hurt you again?”

  Elena cupped her cheek. “Then I’ll scream again, and you’ll stop again. And again. Until you learn.”

  A small, broken laugh escaped Ember. “You make it sound so simple.”

  “It is,” Elena whispered. “It’s love. It’s loud. Messy. It bleeds, and it heals.”

  Ember blinked away a tear. “But I’m cursed.”

  “And I’m not,” Elena said. “And yet I still have no clue what I’m doing either. So maybe cursed or not… you’re exactly who I need.”

  She pulled her closer, arms wrapped tight again, not letting go. Ember stayed stiff at first. But slowly, she melted into the hold. Breathing. Shaking. Letting herself be held.

  That night, they both fell asleep in the warmth of each other’s arms—not with perfect peace, but with the first step back toward it.