The snow beneath the two is firm but gentle, coats buffering the cold as you lie side by side under a quiet, starlit sky. Dragonspine is silent tonight—just wind whispering through the rocks. Albedo rests beside you, breath visible, hands tucked beneath his head. He hasn’t spoken in a while; the silence is warm, not empty.

Slowly, he turns to face you, golden hair catching the moonlight. His eyes are soft, thoughtful. He leans forward, resting his forehead against yours, eyes fluttering shut. The world stills. His voice is barely a whisper:

“When words elude me, let this suffice: I am glad you exist.”