Unnur placed her bare hands on his gloves, and the gnawing chill that had settled deep in his bones melted beneath her warmth. The wind still howled, the storm still raged, but here, in this moment, her touch carved out a space untouched by the cold.
"Whenever I see you look at me in that helmet, I can never tell if you are smiling or frowning at me."
Her voice was soft, teasing, the way it always was when she tried to pull him back from the weight of duty. Emilio swallowed, his throat tight.
Did the entity retreat because it sensed Unnur's approach?
Or is it still there, lurking in the storm, watching?
His grip on his sword slackened, but he did not lower it completely. His mind warred with itself, screaming that she was real, that she was here, that this was Unnur and not some trick of the storm. But the fear the entity had left behind did not loosen its grip on him so easily.
