I could still turn back.
Lock the door again.
Return to bed and let the grey reclaim me.
I need you to be there when I get back.
Alaric's voice—real or hallucinated—whispers through my memory.
I unlock the door.
Turn the handle.
Step out into the corridor.
Erica is there.
Of course, she is.
Slumped against the wall across from my door, asleep, sitting up.
Her face is swollen from crying.
Dark circles shadow her eyes.
My daughter.
Who lost her sight, saving everyone?
Who's been sitting outside my door for three days, begging me to acknowledge she exists.
Guilt crashes through me.
I've been so consumed by losing Alaric that I forgot—I still have another child.
One who's here. Present. Alive.
And I abandoned her.
"Erica," I say quietly.
Her eyes snap open.
For a moment,
