Chapter 55: A Ghost in the Light

"Elena," her father whispered, his hands firm on her small shoulders.

His warmth was so real.

His voice, so gentle.

"Breathe, my little star," he soothed, brushing his thumb against her cheek. "Everything's alright."

Elena felt her tiny hands trembling as she clutched his coat, her mind screaming that this wasn't real.

But his touch was real.

The scent of leather and smoke clinging to his clothes was real.

His heartbeat—steady, calm—was real.

Tears pricked at her eyes.

He wasn't supposed to be here.

"Elena?"

She turned sharply at the sound of another voice.

Her mother.

Standing in the doorway, her long dark hair tied loosely behind her, the same soft expression in her eyes that Elena had barely been able to remember.

"You had a bad dream, didn't you?" her mother asked.

Elena's small frame shook.

No.

This wasn't right.