It felt strange to be there with him, surrounded by the deepest midnight, as if she had fashioned the room herself. Neria remembered that place in the Void she'd found, shadows flung in all directions, reflections of herself in the black water. This was softer, more comfortable, but of a similar essence.

She felt at home. More so when he pulled her close and brought his arms around her. Neria did the same, embracing him, leaning into his chest.

I don't want to leave. I meant what I said: I want to fight for you.

Her thoughts could be pragmatic; she could rationalize the need to for her to leave and return to Asora. But she could not stop her heart from wanting, from loving. She'd learned it was impossible. Better that she could be balance, both head and heart, even if in this moment she could only be the latter.

She was not ready to let him go. Not again.

Neria drew a staggered, painful breath into her lungs. Her grip tightened on him.

What could I tell them? That I was planning to stay, to dig my heels in, and you'd have to command me to go before I would ever consent to leave?

How could she explain that she would gamble a world's safety for a few weeks of happiness?