Keila Butler

“To his surprise, Sorasa moved with him. She looked straight ahead, refusing to meet his eye. Instead, she fussed with the chain mail beneath her jacket, trying to adjust the metal rings. Clearly she despised it, her usually fluid motions slower and more stilted.
He opened his mouth to taunt her, to say anything, to grasp one more second at her side.
“Thank you for wearing armor,” he growled. It was the only thing left to say.
He expected a quick, poisonous retort. Instead, Sorasa looked up at him. Her copper eyes wavered, filled with all the emotion she no longer cared to hide.
“Iron and steel won’t save us from dragon fire,” she said, all regret, her mouth barely moving.
Again, Dom wanted to stay, lingering one last moment, his eyes locked on her own.
“I know you don't believe in ghosts,” Sorasa murmured, holding her ground. She did not move closer, or move at all, letting the crowd of Elders break around her.
A Vedera who falls in this realm falls forever, Dom thought, the old belief a sudden curse.
Sorasa’s eyes shimmered, swimming with tears she would never allow herself to shed. She looked like she did on the beach after the shipwreck, torn apart by grief.
“But I do,” she said.
His chest filled with an unfamiliar feeling, an ache he could not name.
“Sorasa,” he began, but the crowd surged around them, his Vederan soldiers too many to ignore. Every part of him wanted to stay rooted, though he knew he could not.
She would not reach chin, her hands pressed to her sides, her chin raised and jaw set. Whatever tears she carried faded, pushed down into the unfeeling well of an Amhara heart.
“Haunt me, Domacridhan.”
The tide of the army swelled before he could muster an answer. While Sorasa stood against it, Dom let himself be carried. While his body marched, his heart stayed behind, broken as it was, already burning.
Her last words followed him all the way down to the city gates.”
― Victoria Aveyard, Fate Breaker