Eldur's POV
I used to think silence was a weapon.
A thing you sharpened and wielded until it cut deeper than claws or teeth ever could.
But sitting alone on Mai and Liam's couch for the seventh night in a row, wrapped in that ridiculous fluffy blanket Liam insisted I keep, I realized something much worse—
Silence could also suffocate.
"Eldur, you have to eat something," Liam said gently, his voice low and careful, like he was talking to a wounded animal that might bolt at any second.
He set a bowl of steaming soup down in front of me, the faint aroma of herbs filling the space between us. His face was a mess of cautious hope, like he was silently begging me to just... be okay.
I stared at the bowl like it was written in a language I didn't understand.
Soup wasn't going to fix this. Nothing could.
