The study was dark when Kaelen pushed open the door, the fire in the hearth long since burned to cold ash, the candles on his desk reduced to pools of wax that had hardened into misshapen lumps. The only light came from the pale moon filtering through the narrow window, casting the room in shades of silver and shadow, making the familiar space feel foreign and strange. Dust motes danced in the faint beams, stirred by the movement of the door.
He had not been here in days. Could not bear to sit in the chair where she had so often sat beside him, reading or writing or simply watching him work. Could not bear to look at the space where she should have been, the cold hearth where they had shared so many quiet evenings. The room held too many memories, too many echoes of a time when things had been simpler, when the walls between them had been lower, when the distance had not yet grown so vast.
