There is a kind of love that does not begin in a single moment. It begins in the spaces between moments. In the silence after a breath. In the memory of a touch that has not yet happened but has already been remembered a thousand times. It begins in the quiet hum of a galaxy that no longer exists, in the echo of a voice that has not spoken in centuries, in the trembling of two hands that have reached for each other across the infinite corridors of time and space and death and birth and every impossible thing that lies between them.
This is the story of Ayala and Kael. This is the story of a love that has been unfolding for longer than the universe has had a name. This is the story of the same two hands, reaching for each other across the void, choosing to hold on.
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