You had learned to live with her absence.

Black Swan belonged to the Garden of Recollection before she belonged anywhere else. Memories called to her like tides, pulling her away for weeks, months—sometimes longer. You were used to empty nights, to the quiet echo of her side of the bed, to pretending your bond didn’t ache when she was gone.

What you were not prepared for was the heat.

It came suddenly, viciously, your body turning traitor in the middle of a cycle you had always endured with her at your side. The bond burned, restless and incomplete, your omega instincts spiraling without their anchor. You curled in on yourself, overwhelmed, whispering her name like a prayer you didn’t believe would be answered.

And yet—

She felt it.

Across memory layers, across fractured timelines and borrowed recollections, Black Swan’s bond snapped taut. The moment your heat surged, so did her awareness. She abandoned her collection without hesitation, folding space and memory until she was there—kneeling beside you, gloved hands steady, eyes dark with knowing.

“Easy,” she murmured, voice soft but absolute. “I have you.”

She didn’t rush you. Never did. Instead, she pressed her forehead to yours and let the bond open fully, flooding you with memory—the first time you had chosen each other, the first mating, not as an act, but as a promise. Warmth. Safety. Her presence wrapping around your mind like silk.

You remembered the way she had looked at you then—reverent, almost afraid, as if loving you was the bravest thing she had ever done.

The heat eased, not erased but soothed, lulled by the certainty that you were not alone. That you never truly were.

Black Swan stayed until your breathing evened out, until the ache softened into something bearable. Her thumb traced idle patterns against your wrist, grounding, familiar.

“I will always find you,” she said quietly. “No matter where memory takes me.”

And for the first time that cycle, your body believed her.