Page 78 of When the Moon Hatched (The Moonfall #1)

T he stone is happy here, like Kaan asked Bulder’s permission before he hollowed out the cliff to make our space. As if Bulder gladly yielded.

I love it. Being here … it feels like a small home away from home.

Each slumber, we feast together before Kaan plays for me, and I sing to him of The Shade. Of the wind, water, ground, and flames.

Of my beautiful fallen family.

Then he makes love to me on our large pallet carved by his own hands until we fall asleep in each other’s arms.

We’re in a bubble. I know we are. The rest of the world doesn’t matter here within our special place.

It can’t touch us here.

Last slumber, Kaan got on his knees, took his necklace off, and offered it to me. He called it his málmr and told me he went all the way to Gondragh to collect the scale of Ahra—the Great Silver Sabersythe—in order to craft the pale half. He said Ahra had come to him in a dream, and he’d gotten the distinct message that if he couldn’t secure a scale from her shed, he was undeserving of the love we shared. That he would not have the strength to face our biggest challenges that have not yet come to pass.

But he got it. He survived.

So I cling to this málmr and the hope it serves, pouring my love into it even when we’re not tangled in the sheets of our pallet or within our special place. I cling to it, and I beg the Creators to let us have this love with every beat of my heart. Most of all, I beg for them to keep Kaan safe.

Living.

Breathing.

I’ve lost so much already. The thought of losing him, too …

It’s buckling.