The fire crackled softly, sending sparks into the cool night air. Lyra sat cross-legged on the ground, the warmth of the flames barely cutting through the chill she felt inside.
Across from her, Eryon stared into the fire, his crimson eyes glowing faintly, their flickering light making him seem even more distant.
She drew in a shaky breath.
“I’ve missed you, Eryon,” she said, her voice trembling. “I don’t care what’s happened to you—what they’ve done. You’re still my brother. And I’ll do whatever it takes to bring you back.”
Eryon didn’t look at her at first, his gaze fixed on the embers swirling upward. “You shouldn’t have to sacrifice for me, Lyra,” he said, his tone low and heavy. “Not after everything.”
Her hands clenched in her lap as she leaned forward. “You’d do it for me,” she insisted.
“You always did. When we were kids, you were the one who protected me, who stood up for me when no one else would. Why shouldn’t I do the same for you?”
Finally, he met her gaze, and for a fleeting moment, the hardness in his expression softened. “That was a long time ago,” he murmured. “I’m not that person anymore.”
Tears welled in Lyra’s eyes, glinting in the firelight.
“You’re still my brother,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “I don’t care how far you think you’ve fallen. I’d sacrifice anything to see you whole again.”
Eryon’s jaw tightened, and he looked away, the weight of her words pressing against him.
“Maybe I don’t deserve it,” he said softly.
Lyra reached across the fire, her hand hovering over his. “You don’t get to decide that, Eryon. You’re my family, and I won’t give up on you. No matter what.”
For a moment, the silence stretched between them, the fire casting shadows on their faces. Then, Eryon’s fingers twitched, almost as if he wanted to take her hand but couldn’t bring himself to do it.
“Thank you,” he said quietly, his voice barely audible.
Lyra smiled through her tears, hope flickering to life in her chest. For the first time in a long while, she felt like she’d reached him—if only for a moment.