Page 48 of The Last Remaining Light

Elowynn blinked in surprise. “Caelyn…”

“Take it before I reconsider every decision leading to this moment.” He pushed the wrapped item toward her. “Please,” he added in a whisper.

Her lips curved upward into the makings of a smile as she accepted the bundle. Sliding her delicate fingers beneath the fabric, she let it slip from the item, catching it in a fist before a gust of wind blew it away. She tucked it into a pocket in her robes.

The dark leather cover had been stitched by a steady hand while silver threading traced intricate constellations across the spine. Tiny fragments of polished astrylite had been worked directly into the binding, catching the light of nearby lanterns whenever the journal was adjusted in her hands.

Elowynn stared at it, lips parted. She had been stunned into silence.

“I, uh. I made it,” Caelyn said after a brief hesitation.

Her fingers traced the cover with reverent care. “When?”

“Over the last few moons,” he confessed, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand.

Stars, why was this so bloody difficult!

Opening the journal, Elowynn discovered handwritten notes scattered throughout the empty pages. Constellation sketches. Resonance observations. Fragments of old Astrari poems copied with great care from observatory texts she once loved.

And pressed in perfect layers between several pages—small sky-blue crystal fragments with violet and gold layers veined through them.

They were her favorite kind. The same crystals she used to collect beside her bed as a child and then would place in patterns of the constellations.

The expression on Elowynn’s face nearly destroyed him. Her eyes widened with startled recognition before softness unfolded across her features, warm and fragile enough that Caelyn had to look away for a moment just to steady himself.

“El…” he began, clearing his throat as it filled with emotion. “I know Veylspire will become everything you've ever dreamed of.” He forced the words out, wanting her to believe it would be. Needing her to believe it. “But I thought perhaps you might want something from Lumenshire with you.”

Elowynn looked up at him, tears filling her eyes while her fingers brushed in light strokes over the pressed crystal fragments. She swallowed hard.

“I thought no one noticed those.” A fragile laugh escaped her. “The constellations beside my bed. The crystals.”

Caelyn lifted his shoulders into a small shrug. “You arranged crystals into constellations across your floor for nearly eight turnings, Elowynn. It tends to leave an impression.”

A breathy laugh escaped her through the tears threatening her voice.

Then she did something catastrophic.

She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him, pressing her face into his neck.

Caelyn stiffened in total surprise.

For one terrible, beautiful moment, the world stopped turning.

Rain whispered its dreary song beyond the observatory arches while Elowynn held him tightly against the storm-cooled fabric of her robes. Her warm breath along his skin made him shiver, but he hid it as he brought his own arms up to lock around her form.

Home.

She felt like home.

Caelyn closed his eyes, knowing this home would soon be gone from him. A single tear slipped free before he could stop it.

He savored the moment, committing it to his memory forever.

Chapter Ten

“Some lights do not vanish when distant. They simply become unreachable.”

— Astrari mourning verse