{"Sacrifice is the language of loyalty written in scars."}
WAVE'S POV
Hours later, Spark was quiet as he stood behind me, waiting. He always gave me space when he sensed the storm stirring in my mind. That is what I loved about him; his presence was never demanding but always steady, anchoring.
"Fenrith was holding back," I finally said, voice low. "There was more in his words than what he spoke."
I did not turn, but I heard the soft clink of his cup on the table before his steps brought him to my side. "He trusts you," Spark said gently. "That is why he gave you the Sanctuary's mark. You are its Guardian now."
I let out a bitter laugh and ran a hand through my hair. "And yet it feels like I have been handed a crown of thorns. Every time I walk through those sanctuary halls, something ancient is trying to reshape me. I do not know who I am supposed to become."
