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Summary
“My Raha,” she says, and in the fog of need, G’raha wonders if she understands just how much it feels, most times, as though she is not only the lodestar by which he'd charted the course of his life, but—
But the sun itself. Radiant and warm and beautiful, and him, ever circling in her orbit. And him, ever turning his face toward her light, reaching out, hungering for that warmth.
Series
- Part 4 of the unbroken thread
