The heavy wooden doors creaked open, and Eryon stepped into the hall. His presence was as commanding as ever, but there was an edge of weariness to his movements, as though the weight of the past sixteen years had drained him. The chatter in the room fell silent, and all eyes turned to him.
When his gaze landed on Misery, his entire body froze. His amber eyes widened, flickering between disbelief and raw pain. He took a hesitant step forward, his usually firm stride faltering. “You’re alive,” he whispered, his voice strained, barely audible above the pounding of his heart.
Misery’s silver eyes shimmered, her emotions barely held in check.
“I am,” she said, her voice soft but steady. Her throat tightened as she spoke the words she had been holding onto for so long. “And so is our child.”
Eryon’s jaw clenched, and his gaze dropped to the floor for a moment before meeting hers again.
“The baby Adrian took…” His voice faltered, and a flicker of anger crossed his face. “It wasn’t ours. I’ve suspected it for a while, but…” He shook his head, his words trailing off.
Misery stepped closer, the urge to close the distance between them overpowering her hesitation. “That’s because our child is still here, Eryon,” she said, her voice trembling with urgency. “In this world. I need your help to find her.”
Eryon let out a bitter laugh, the sound hollow and laced with frustration. He ran a hand through his hair, his shoulders sagging.
“I spent sixteen years looking for her, Misery,” he said, his voice heavy with grief. “Sixteen years. I followed every lead, searched every corner, and I found nothing. I failed.”
The words cut through Misery like a blade, but she refused to give in to despair. She reached out, her fingers brushing against his arm. “You didn’t fail,” she said firmly, her voice thick with emotion. “She’s out there. I know it. I can feel it.”
Eryon turned his head away, his expression clouded with doubt. “What if you’re wrong?” he muttered. “What if she’s gone, Misery? What if we’re chasing ghosts?”
Misery’s grip on his arm tightened, her silver eyes blazing with determination. “She’s not gone,” she said, her voice unwavering. “And I won’t stop until we find her. You’re her father, Eryon. We owe it to her to keep looking.”
The room around them was silent, the pack watching the exchange with varying degrees of curiosity and unease. Eryon finally looked at Misery again, his amber eyes searching hers for a sign of doubt. But there was none. Slowly, he nodded, though the pain in his expression didn’t lessen.
Misery allowed herself a small, fleeting smile. “I’m not asking for miracles, Eryon. I’m asking for a chance.”
The two stood there, a fragile alliance forged in the face of overwhelming loss, as the pack murmured amongst themselves.