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Whispers rose before the words could even sink into Bavanda and Loco.

Bavanda swallowed. A strange weight sank in her chest, pulling her heart along with it.

The blessing is not for you. The words repeated over and over again. Why? Why couldn't they get the blessing?

Loco beat her to it. “Why isn't the blessing for us?"

Milani's face didn't change. Her gaze wasn't judging, but it also wasn't kind. “Are you trying to deceive the gods? The blessing is for fated mates. You're not fated mates. I see it in your eyes.”

Bavanda's jaw twitched. Her eyes darted to the ground, then quickly to Loco. Her breath caught, just loud enough for the people closest to hear.

Her face—so carefully schooled in calm—shifted. Her mouth pulled tight. Her hands curled slightly at her sides, not in anger... in ache.

Loco’s eyes were on her. He was watching her reaction, waiting for when he'd have to walk out of here. Panic flickered in his expression.

Bavanda didn’t move. The pause was too long and noticeable. Someone in the crowd tilted their head. Whispers rose louder,but one voice kept chanting in her head.

“You're not fated mates!"

She nodded stiffly and bent to place the final sapling into the ground. After this, without another word, she turned and left.

It should have ended there.

It didn't. Later that night, under the soft hush of crickets and moonlight, Bavanda sat alone near the pond behind the packhouse, knees drawn up, staring at her own reflection.

Loco found her there.

“I’m sorry about earlier,” he said, voice quiet.

She didn’t look up. “That wasn’t for us,” she whispered, more tired than bitter.

He sat beside her, the tips of their shoulders barely touching. “Maybe it could be.”

His voice was too quick, and eager. She turned to him slowly. Her eyes didn’t soften. “You can’t wish the stars into changing their minds.”

“I’m willing to try, Bavanda. I'd do anything for you."

Loco couldn't tell which one hurt him most. Her silence, or that look in her eyes that told him that wasn't enough. Then she stood, leaving him by the water.

He sat in the stillness for a long time after, watching the ripples fade. His heart was aching in his chest, like it was being pounded by a jackhammer.

Somewhere in the trees beyond, the night wind whispered a truth neither of them wanted to speak.

Love, without fate, can still bloom. But sometimes, it wilts under the weight of longing.

Bavanda couldn't stop looking back. She expected him to follow her, probably give her one of his reassuring lines, tell her something that'll melt her heart and cleanse her doubts even if it was only temporary. She was selfish, wasn't she?

He was probably hurting too, breaking under the weight of his own doubts and having to carry hers too. She hated it, that she was being so much of a burden no matter how hard she tried.

Should she turn back? Return to him and be the one to use reassuring lines, to melt his heart and hold unto his doubts too? But how could she do that when a mere looking into his eyes and she was already overthinking everything they had and would never have.

Bavanda sighed. She didn't stop walking. The wind was quieter here, tucked between the wooden corridors of the infirmary.

Bavanda’s steps were soft against the worn floors, her boots still caked in ceremonial earth. The faint scent of ash clung to her skin—remnants of the ritual fires—and her chest still carried the weight of silence.

Her fingers trembled slightly as she pushed open the door to Avynna’s room.

Inside, it was dim, the room lit only by the soft flicker of a lantern near the bed. The still figure of her mother lay there, serene and unmoving. Blankets tucked neatly. Hair braided by one of the elder women earlier that morning. She looked like she could wake at any moment.

…but she didn't.

Bavanda sighed again, all the heaviness in the world etched into that one sound. She turned to leave when she heard a soft whimper from the room. She spun back immediately.

Her eyes dropped to the floor beside the bed, and there he was.

Alexander.

He was curled in a small pile of blankets, half-asleep, thumb pressed lazily to his mouth. He must’ve slipped in during the ceremony. No one had noticed.

A wave of panic fluttered in her chest. “Alexander…” she whispered, moving toward him quickly but gently. “You can’t be here alone.”

Before she could reach him, he stirred.

He blinked slowly, then pushed up with his tiny hands, toddled forward clumsily on his knees… and reached for the edge of the bed. His little fingers curled into Avynna’s braid. And then, like it was monotonic, his forehead pressed softly to her arm.

The room felt like it was devoid of air. Bavanda stood still. She wasn’t sure what she expected. Probably nothing. Probably just more silence. More stillness.

However, right in front of her eyes, her expectations fell short. Avynna’s fingers twitched. Just a subtle flutter of life beneath pale skin, but enough to stir up every emotion that had been asleep.

Bavanda’s breath caught in her throat. She blinked. “...Mother?”

The hand twitched again, this time more deliberately. The tips of her fingers curled toward the child pressed against her.

Bavanda dropped to her knees.

She reached out, grabbed her mother’s hand, held it tight. “Avynna…mother…it’s me. I’m here.”

Nothing else moved. Her mother’s brow creased though. Barely. Like a whisper of thought trying to rise.

Bavanda’s voice cracked. “Please… if you can hear me, please come back. We need you.”

Alexander, content now, had fallen asleep again. One hand still wrapped in Avynna’s braid.

And Bavanda… Bavanda wept quietly, forehead pressed to her mother’s hand, the weight of too much love and too much fear settling between her ribs.

Outside, the wind blew gently through the trees, but inside the room, something had shifted. Avynna had stirred, and Bavanda dared—just a little—to hope again.

That night, Bavanda remained at her mother’s side longer than usual.

She sat by the bedside with Alexander curled in her lap, his thumb in his mouth, his small hand clutching the edge of Avynna’s blanket.

Softly, almost without realizing it, Bavanda began to hum. It was a lullaby—one her mother used to sing. One she hadn’t remembered until now.

The melody wove through the quiet chamber, brushing against shadows and memory. Her voice cracked once, then steadied. She held her brother tighter.

Outside the open window, the wind picked up, carrying the song across the hills. On the bed, this time unnoticed, Avynna’s lips parted slightly… the barest breath escaping.

Sometime around midnight, silence settled over the room like a heavy cloak. Bavanda wiped her face roughly with the sleeve of her tunic, sniffling as she stared one last time at her mother’s still form. Her chest still ached, but there was a strange, fragile spark of something flickering inside her. There was hope now.

She scooped Alexander gently into her arms, his little body limp with sleep, head tucked under her chin. As she walked through the dim hallways, her steps were slow, quiet. The entire pack had settled into an exhausted hush. Outside, the stars blinked like watchful eyes.

Back in her room, she laid Alexander down on her bed. His tiny fingers curled into the edge of the blanket, and he murmured something soft and unintelligible in his sleep. Bavanda lingered for a while, brushing the hair from his forehead, tucking the blanket around his shoulders.

She tried to sleep, and failed.

Her mind was racing, breath shallow, and her heart still throbbed from more than just the moment in the infirmary.

She turned from the bed and left quietly, padding barefoot down the hall to the other room. She knocked gently.

The door opened before she could lower her hand.

Loco stood there, shirtless, sweatpants clinging to his hips, eyes tired but alert. He must’ve sensed her long before she reached the door. He didn’t speak. He just stepped aside and let her in.

The room was quiet, bathed in moonlight. A lantern burned low by the bed, casting long shadows across the walls.

Bavanda entered without a word and stood by the window for a moment, arms crossed over herself. She didn’t realize she was still trembling until she felt Loco behind her.

“Bavanda,” he said gently, “what happened?”