The Poet's Poison

Previously

…“I’m still fighting, Silas,” Elara corrected gently. “Every day is a conscious choice. But now, the choice is for life. For clarity. For the beauty that exists even in the pain.” She looked at him, her expression earnest. “I don’t know if I’ll ever be entirely free of the echoes. The craving, the… the temptation. But I’ve learned to live with them, to acknowledge them without letting them dictate my path. And that, in itself, feels like a victory.” Silas reached into the bag he’d brought. He pulled out a small, intricately carved wooden bird, its wings spread as if in mid-flight. “I found this at the market,” he said, holding it out to her. “