A familiar shape stood ahead of me, his back turned. The breadth of his shoulders and something I couldn't name pulled me toward him. Not walking. The distance closed on its own, like the space between us had grown tired of existing.
He turned.
Our eyes locked. The same face I had seen holding Eleanor in the vision, strong jaw, dark eyes full of quiet storm, hair swept back like he had just stepped out of the wind. Ethan Nadez. My father.
"Abram." He opened his arms, as if calling me into an embrace. "It's okay."
I didn't move. The place around us had no description. No walls, no ground, only a soft, boundless light that produced a heat that soothed rather than burned, wrapping around my skin like warm water.
"It's okay, Abram." The distance kept closing on its own. "It's okay."
He pulled me in.
