Jude's breath came slow and measured as he locked eyes with the figure before him. A thousand questions stormed in his mind, but none seemed to form into words. The impossible had become reality. Someone he had watched die now stood before him, unscathed, unwavering. The air between them felt heavy, thick with unspoken truths and the weight of the past.
Lyara's hand remained on her weapon, her knuckles pale from the pressure of her grip. Jude could feel the tension rolling off her, a mirror of his own unease. The forest around them had grown deathly silent, as if the world itself held its breath, waiting for what would come next.
"You should be dead," Jude finally said, his voice low but steady.
The figure tilted their head, silver eyes unreadable. "And yet, I am not."
Lyara shifted beside him, her stance subtly adjusting. Not quite defensive, but not relaxed either. "How do we know it's really you?"
