The square no longer belonged to the city, nor to the war that had carved through it moments before, but to something far older now, something that stood between two beings who did not simply fight for ground, but for meaning itself.
Elara felt it pressing against her chest, not as fear, but as memory rising unbidden, sharp and relentless, dragging her back to moments where she had stood powerless, unheard, unseen.
Her breath hitched for a fraction of a second, her fingers tightening as echoes of that past brushed against the strength she now held, testing it, questioning it.
A flicker passed through her gaze, quick, almost imperceptible, yet real, as if the girl she had been still lingered somewhere within the Queen she had become.
"…not again," she whispered, her voice low, though steadying as the words left her.
Her shoulders lifted, then settled.
Cassian saw it.
Of course he did.
The faint hesitation.
The memory.
