Page 97 of Dalla's Royal Guards

Musad’s hand dropped. “Why? I couldn’t save her.”

“No one could,” Harlem said. He stepped closer, his eyes shadowed with memories. “She came into my life centuries ago… in that cave in the desert. I was lost. Angry. She brought me peace. And she has been bringing moments of peace again for a long time.“

Musad listened as Harlem spoke of lifetimes, pain, and quiet conversations shared between two broken souls. Musad drew in a shuddering breath and looked up at the night sky. Stars twinkled down, almost as if they were trying to whisper to him.

“Where do you go when you die?” Musad asked in a choked voice.

Harlem’s lips curled into a wistful smile. “Home.”

Musad looked away. “Do you think she’s gone home?”

“I do,” Harlem said. “Maybe she went to say goodbye this time. Don’t give up on her yet. Help her find her way back.”

“Do you think—?” Musad turned back, his eyes searching the garden.

The garden was empty, except for him. Harlem was gone.

He looked up.

“Come home to us, Dalla,” Musad whispered into the stars. “We need you… I need you.”

Dalla sat beneath the twisted branches of the old Wyche elm tree overlooking the sea, the wind threading through her golden braid. It had been two days since she had returned to this place—her first home. The one that time could not erase. She hadn’t moved from this spot since she had arrived.

The cliffs were the same, the wildflowers still bloomed in patches of stubborn color, and the air held the same sharp, salt-laced scent of her childhood.

She drew her knees to her chest, watching the waves break far below, trying to make sense of the ache inside her. Even in death, her soul ached for Musad and Nasser. For the touch of their hands. The sound of their voices. The way their laughter filled up the silence.

The grass rustled behind her.

“You always liked this spot,” Olaf said, stepping into view.

Dalla smiled faintly. Her little brother was no longer little. He stood tall now, a young man with her father’s strong build and their mother’s thoughtful eyes. He came to sit beside her, arms resting over his knees.

“Remember when you and Aesa dared me to jump from that rock into the tide pool?” he asked, pointing to a spot down below them.

She laughed, the sound quiet but warm. “You cried halfway down.”

“I was six!” He grinned. Then his smile faded, and he looked sideways at her. “Have you seen them? Runa and Aesa?”

Dalla shook her head. “No.”

Olaf nodded. “Runa returned here for a short time. She lives again. With the ones she loves.Morsays Aesa will come. One day.”

They sat in silence for a moment.

“Morasks that you come see her andFar.They miss you. I missed you, too,” Olaf said.

Tears burned her eyes, clouding her vision as she nodded, her eyes still locked on the horizon. He rose, held out his hand, and she took it.

The walk back to the hut was quiet. Horses grazed nearby, and the familiar bark of dogs greeted them as they neared. Olaf murmured a word, and the dogs lay back down, tails thumping.

The door opened. Her mother stood there—with the same beautiful smile, the same thick blonde hair braided, her eyes stillas blue as Dalla remembered. She opened her arms when she noticed Dalla’s trembling lips.

Dalla collapsed into her mother’s embrace.

“Mor…” she sobbed. “It hurts. It hurts so much.”

Asta held her, rocking her gently. “You’ve carried too much, my heart. Come. YourFaris waiting.”