Chapter 217

Deric

The waning moon cast a pale, silvery light across Morrien, softening the edges of the pack’s compound yet leaving long shadows in the corners. Even now, after some of Felen’s spies had been dealt with, the residue of unease lingered. I walked slowly, my boots crunching over frost-hardened leaves, my hands shoved deep into the pockets of my coat. I had a destination in mind, though my steps faltered the closer I got: Elvira’s quarters.

I stopped outside the door, listening for any sign of her. Nothing. The faint scent of lavender drifted through the partially open window, familiar and grounding, yet it made the knots in my chest tighten.

“Deric?” Her voice, calm yet sharp, drew my attention. She leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, gaze cautious. “You wanted to see me?”

I swallowed, suddenly aware of how stiff I probably looked. “Yeah. I… I thought we should talk,” I said, my voice uneven despite my best effort to sound steady.

She didn’t step back, just tilted her head. “About what?”

I hesitated. Every word felt heavier than I expected. “About… everything. About me leaving before I even knew…” I faltered. “…before I even knew we were siblings.”

The words seemed to hang in the air between us. Her expression softened just slightly, but there was still that careful distance, that invisible wall I had spent years reinforcing with my own ignorance.

“I… I know,” she said quietly, finally letting a hint of exhale escape. “You didn’t know. You didn’t have a choice.”

I shook my head. “I should’ve—” I stopped, swallowing again. “I should’ve protected you. I should’ve been there. Instead, I walked away, and you… you had to deal with everything alone.”

She let out a soft, almost imperceptible laugh. “You don’t need to make it sound worse than it is.” Her eyes held mine, steady and unflinching. “It’s fine. Really.”

“Fine?” My voice cracked slightly, betraying the tension I’d been holding in. “Elvira, you don’t sound fine.”

She looked down, smoothing a loose strand of hair over her shoulder. “I am. I… I’ve learned to handle things. You—” she glanced back at me, hesitant, “you’re here now. That counts for something.”

It counted for everything, yet I couldn’t shake the ache of those lost years. I stepped closer, careful not to close the space entirely. “I don’t expect things to be… normal,” I said. “I just… I want to do right by you, by our family, by Morrien.”

Her gaze softened, just slightly, but still wary. “I know. And I… I want that too. I want you to be part of this. But let’s not pretend the past isn’t there. It’s… awkward.”

I nodded, a small, wry smile forming despite the tension. “Awkward is fine. I can handle awkward situations.”

For a moment, we simply stood there, the cold air brushing past us, leaves rustling faintly. Then, in what felt like a careful test, I asked, “Do you want me to… check the perimeter later? Make sure there’s no lingering threat? It doesn’t have to be me, but…”

She hesitated, then nodded. “I’d like that. Thank you.”

I felt a small flicker of warmth, though I tried not to let it show too obviously. “I’ll take it seriously. No shortcuts. I’ve learned my lessons.”

“Good,” she said, a faint smile touching her lips, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes.

We moved through the compound together, each step measured, the silence between us neither empty nor uncomfortable. There was a rhythm to it, tentative yet grounding. I noticed how the frost glinted on the edges of the leaves, how the air smelled faintly of smoke from the distant hearths. Morrien had weathered a storm, and yet here we were, slowly, cautiously, building something resembling peace.

“Have you been sleeping well?” I asked suddenly, breaking the silence.

She shrugged. “Better than I expected. I’ve… gotten used to the chaos.”

I winced at the word, remembering the countless nights she had likely spent alone, fending for herself, and my absence from it all. “I can’t promise it’ll never come back, but I’ll make sure you’re safe. No more surprises from… anyone.”

She glanced at me, her expression unreadable. “I’ll hold you to that.”

The corner of my mouth twitched. “Good. Because I plan on being very persistent about it.”

We continued on, and gradually the conversation shifted from formalities to small observations about the pack. I pointed out where patrols had been tightened, noticed the younger members starting to show promise in training, and even caught a few smiles from Elvira as she offered advice in her signature calm, authoritative tone. It was tentative, almost fragile, but it was there.

“Do you ever miss it?” she asked quietly, referring to the old chaos.

I frowned. “Miss it? Not really. It was messy, dangerous… unfair. But it taught me a lot. About control, about responsibility… about people.” I hesitated. “And about family, even when I didn’t realize it.”

She glanced at me, a flicker of understanding in her eyes. “People make mistakes. Sometimes the past is just… a series of lessons. Hard ones.”

“Yes,” I said, my voice softening. “Hard lessons. Ones I intend to do better with.”

We paused near the training grounds, watching some of the younger pack members spar cautiously under guidance. The air was crisp, the faint scent of sweat mingling with the breeze. I could feel the tension in Elvira’s shoulders slowly ease, though it never fully disappeared.

“I’ve been mentoring some of them,” she said quietly, almost to herself. “Teaching them what I’ve learned. They need guidance… someone steady.”

I nodded, pride warming my chest. “You’ve been remarkable, Elvira. Morrien is stronger because of you. And… I want to be part of that strength, if you’ll let me.”

Her gaze met mine fully this time, the cautious distance softening just enough to allow the possibility of trust. “I want that too, Deric. But… let’s take it slow. We can’t pretend the past never happened.”

“Slow is fine,” I said, relief threading through me. “I can wait. I’ll earn it.”

We walked the rest of the grounds together, the conversation flowing in fits and starts, both of us careful with our words, aware of the lingering distance yet acknowledging its existence without letting it fester. The sky lightened slightly as the moon waned further, casting silver streaks across the horizon.

Finally, near the edge of the compound, I stopped. “I should probably report back on the perimeter checks. But… I’ll be around. Always.”

She gave a small nod, a quiet acknowledgment that felt weighty with meaning. “I know, Deric. And… Thank you. For wanting to be here. For… trying.”

I felt the weight of her words settle deep in my chest. “I mean it,” I said softly. “No more running, no more mistakes like before. I’m here. With you. With Morrien.”

She studied me for a long moment, then finally allowed a faint, genuine smile. “That’s… good to hear.”

We parted near the edge of the woods, the crunch of frost under our feet the only sound. There was no hug, no dramatic gestures, just an unspoken understanding. The bond between us was still fragile, still raw from years of absence and mistakes, but it was coming back. Tentative, awkward, yet real.

As I walked back toward the central compound, I felt a cautious optimism threading through my chest. Morrien was rebuilding, the pack was stabilizing, and Elvira… my sister… was beginning to accept me into her world. There would be moments of tension, of uncertainty, of awkwardness, but there would also be protection, loyalty, and the slow, steady growth of family.

And that was enough, for now.