Chapter Six

  Two months remained until the Raid on Liberio, and the weight of that impending moment loomed heavily over both Eren and Aurora. The quiet cabin they had shared for months now felt charged with an intensity neither could fully grasp, a constant undercurrent of tension that came not just from the mission ahead, but from the unspoken feelings they held for each other.

  Eren had become accustomed to returning to the cabin every evening, the sight of Aurora in the garden or by the hearth always a welcome relief from the endless stress of his covert operations. Each day, as he gathered more intelligence and refined his strategy, she remained a constant source of comfort, her soft presence grounding him in a way nothing else could.

  Aurora, too, had found solace in the routine they had built together. She spent her days tending to the plants around their secluded cabin, her notebook filling with pages upon pages of detailed notes about every herb and plant she discovered. The more she studied, the more she experimented, crafting new elixirs and remedies, hoping to make herself useful in whatever way she could. And every night, Eren would come home, and they would talk—sometimes about his mission, sometimes about nothing at all. Just talking, just being in each other’s presence, felt like enough.

  But even as they grew closer, there was always a barrier between them. An unspoken wall neither of them dared to cross.

  Eren felt it constantly—the pull toward her, the need to be close to her, to protect her, to let himself feel what he’d been holding back for so long. But the Raid on Liberio was drawing nearer by the day, and he couldn’t afford distractions. There were lives at stake— Aurora’s, his, the people of Paradis—and he couldn’t allow himself the luxury of focusing on his own emotions. Not yet.

  And Aurora, though her heart ached with the growing affection she had for Eren, couldn’t bring herself to say anything either. She felt the tension between them, the way Eren’s gaze lingered on her when he thought she wasn’t looking, the subtle softness in his voice when they talked. But like him, she knew the timing wasn’t right. There was too much at stake, too many unknowns. And even if she did tell him how she felt, what if it distracted him from his mission? What if she caused him to falter?

  And so, they remained close but distant. Together, but still so far apart.

  Eren had noticed the changes in himself over the past few weeks. He had been drinking Aurora’s elixirs daily now, trusting her herbal knowledge implicitly. At first, he hadn’t expected much—maybe a slight boost in energy, something to take the edge off the exhaustion that constantly tugged at him. But as time went on, he realized something had shifted. His stamina had increased significantly, and his ability to recover from fatigue was unlike anything he had experienced before.

  More than that, his Titan powers had been enhanced. He had been able to transform twice in succession before, but now, after weeks of consuming the elixirs Aurora had crafted, he could transform up to three times in quick succession without feeling the same crushing fatigue. It was a subtle but monumental shift, one that could change everything when the time came for the Raid.

  He hadn’t told Aurora about this development yet—he wasn’t even sure she fully realized how powerful her elixirs had become. But Eren knew this could be the advantage they needed. It made him feel even more indebted to her, more connected to her in a way that went beyond simple companionship.

  One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, Eren sat on the small porch of the cabin, watching the sky turn shades of pink and orange. Aurora was inside, preparing dinner, her movements soft and methodical as always. He couldn’t help but glance toward the door every few moments, his thoughts constantly drifting back to her.

  The feelings he had for her were overwhelming, growing stronger with each passing day. She wasn’t just the girl he had once known, the one he had thought about for years after she disappeared. She was someone entirely new now—strong, resourceful, and kind in ways that both grounded him and made his heart ache. And yet, he couldn’t let himself act on those feelings. Not now. Not with everything so close to coming to a head.

  As he sat there, lost in thought, Aurora stepped out of the cabin, carrying two bowls of soup she had made with the fresh vegetables from her garden. She handed one to him with a soft smile, sitting beside him on the porch as they both watched the sky darken.

  “Here,” she said gently, her voice a soothing contrast to the tension in the air. “I used some of the herbs I found near the lake. It should help with your energy.”

  Eren took the bowl from her, his fingers brushing hers briefly as he did. He felt a familiar warmth spread through him at the touch, but he quickly looked down at the bowl, focusing on the steam rising from the soup.

  “Thanks,” he muttered, his voice a little rougher than he intended.

  They ate in comfortable silence for a while, the only sounds coming from the rustle of the wind through the trees and the occasional crackle of the fire inside the cabin. But eventually, Aurora broke the silence, her voice soft but curious.

  “How are you feeling?” she asked, glancing at him from the corner of her eye. “With the elixirs, I mean. Have they been helping?”

  Eren paused for a moment, his spoon halfway to his mouth. He hadn’t planned on telling her just yet, but there was no use in hiding it. He set the bowl down on the ground beside him, turning to face her fully.

  “They’ve been helping more than I expected,” he admitted, his green eyes meeting hers. “A lot more, actually.”

  Aurora tilted her head slightly, her brow furrowing in confusion. “What do you mean?”

  Eren hesitated for a moment before answering. “Since I started drinking them, I’ve been able to transform three times in a row. Before, I could only do it twice. I didn’t think it was possible, but your elixirs… they’ve strengthened me.”

  Aurora’s eyes widened, and she stared at him in surprise. “Three times?” she repeated, her voice filled with disbelief. “Eren, that’s… that’s incredible. I didn’t know it would have that kind of effect.”

  Eren gave a small, almost reluctant smile. “Neither did I. But it’s real. I can feel the difference. And it’s going to help during the Raid.”

  Aurora’s heart swelled with a mix of pride and awe. She had known her elixirs would help him, but she hadn’t realized just how much. To know that her work, her knowledge, had contributed to his strength—it made her feel connected to him in a deeper way than ever before.

  “That’s amazing,” she said quietly, her voice filled with genuine admiration. “I’m so glad I could help.”

  Eren looked at her for a long moment, the tension between them thickening again. The way her eyes shone with pride, the way her voice softened when she spoke to him—it made his chest tighten. He wanted to tell her everything, to let her know how much she meant to him, how much he cared. But he couldn’t.

  Instead, he simply nodded, his gaze lingering on her for a moment longer than it should have.

  “Thank you, Aurora,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “For everything.”

  And once again, the unspoken feelings between them lingered in the air, too heavy to ignore but too fragile to address. They sat together as the stars began to fill the sky, both of them aware of the closeness between them but neither daring to take the next step.

  Because even though they had grown closer, so much closer, there was still so much at stake.

  …

  Eren walked the crowded streets of Liberio, his steps slow, deliberate, and limping. His disguise as a wounded Eldian soldier with supposed mental trauma was perfect. He kept his head down, his gaze vacant, as if he were lost in a world of his own misery—just another casualty of war, forgotten by the world. But inside, his mind was sharp, calculating every move, every interaction. He scanned the faces around him, watching, listening. Always gathering information.

  The young boy, Falco, had caught his attention a few days ago. He was energetic, eager to help those he saw as fellow Eldians, and—most importantly—he had connections to the Warriors. Falco seemed like the kind of boy who would do anything to help his "comrades," especially someone like Eren, who appeared broken and vulnerable. Eren had already decided that when the time came, he’d use Falco to send secret letters to the Scouts, telling them to come to Liberio under the guise of sending letters to his “family.”

  As he walked alongside Falco, who rambled about his hopes of helping his family and becoming a warrior, Eren’s thoughts drifted, sharpening toward the inevitable confrontation with the Tybur family. His face remained passive as the boy spoke, but internally, Eren's mind was racing with the intricacies of his plan.

  The War Hammer Titan—the key to ensuring his strength, to solidifying his control over the battlefield during the Raid on Liberio. The Tybur family had hidden the War Hammer Titan’s identity well, but Eren wasn’t fooled. It couldn’t be Willy Tybur, even though he was the head of the family. That would be too obvious, too straightforward. But it had to be someone close to him—someone in his inner circle. Eren had heard whispers of the Tybur family’s influence and wealth, their deep ties to Marleyan aristocracy. But which one of them had the power he needed?

  As he walked, his eyes scanned the faces of Marleyans and Eldians alike, though his mind was elsewhere. He remembered the moment he kissed Historia's hand. That memory, buried deep, had shown him glimpses of the future, flickers of events that had yet to unfold. He had seen himself in a lethal confrontation with the War Hammer Titan during the festival the Tybur family was set to host in the coming months.

  It’s coming, Eren thought. The festival, the War Hammer Titan… Willy Tybur…

  Willy, the man who was so beloved by Marley, the man who claimed to be working toward peace—Eren couldn’t care less about his pretenses. He had already decided. He would eat Willy Tybur first, even if Willy wasn’t the one holding the War Hammer Titan. He would tear through the Tybur family, member by member, until he had the Titan’s power in his hands. He would devour every last one of them if he had to. The thought didn’t bother him. It was necessary.

  I’ll rip them apart, he thought coldly, his hands tightening into fists beneath the tattered cloak he wore.

  Falco continued to chatter beside him, oblivious to the storm brewing inside Eren’s mind. The boy was loyal to his comrades, to his fellow Eldians—but that loyalty could be twisted, redirected. Eren knew the Scouts would come. They had to. Even though he’d been missing for months, even though they had no idea where he was or what he was doing, they understood that there was no future for Paradis without him. He was their only hope, their only path to survival. And Eren was prepared to manipulate that fact to his advantage.

  They would come, whether out of loyalty, desperation, or fear of losing their only chance. He knew it. He’d force them to act. If they didn’t, everything would fall apart. Eren had no other choice but to push them into this war alongside him, even if it meant leading them straight into the chaos of Liberio. They’d follow, even if they hated him for it.

  Hange refuses to act, Eren thought bitterly. She can’t see the bigger picture. The only other plan they have is turning Historia into a Titan so I can use the Rumbling for a ‘demonstration.’

  The idea disgusted him. Turning Historia, one of the few people who had ever truly understood him, into a Titan just for the sake of a demonstration was a plan he would never accept. It was short-sighted, a temporary solution that might only protect Paradis for a few years before the threat returned, worse than ever. And sacrificing Historia? That wasn’t an option. She was one of the few remaining good people in the world, someone who had refused to let others control her fate. She had chosen to save him back under the Reiss chapel, even when it went against everything Rod Reiss was trying to drill into her.

  Eren owed her. He couldn’t let her become just another pawn in this brutal game. He had to protect her, just as she had protected him when he was on the brink of despair.

  No, Eren thought fiercely. There won’t be any ‘demonstration.’ I’ll wipe out every last one of them. Every last life beyond Paradis’ shores.

  The thought solidified in his mind like a steel wall. A demonstration was pointless. It would only delay the inevitable. If they wanted to survive, they had to crush their enemies completely. They had to remove every threat to Paradis’s existence, and that meant wiping out the world beyond their island. Anything less would be a betrayal of everything he was fighting for.

  And then there was Aurora. He couldn’t stop thinking about her, even in the midst of all his plans. When he brought her back to Paradis, he knew there would be backlash. People would question why he had brought her—an outsider, a former slave of Marley—into their world. There would be doubts, fear, suspicion. But if he had Historia’s support, he knew he could shield Aurora from that. Historia was the queen, and her voice carried weight. If she stood by him, if she accepted Aurora, it would make all the difference.

  I need Historia’s support, he thought grimly. For Aurora’s sake.

  His thoughts drifted back to Aurora, her soft presence in his life. She had been through so much, yet she remained resilient, determined to help him in whatever way she could. The elixirs she’d made for him had been a game-changer, allowing him to push his limits in ways he hadn’t thought possible. She was more than just someone he cared about—she was essential to his mission, to his future.

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  I’ll protect her, he vowed silently. No matter what.

  As he and Falco walked through the streets, Eren glanced at the boy, who was still talking, unaware of the storm of thoughts swirling through Eren’s mind.

  “Yes… I’ll need your help soon,” Eren said finally, his voice calm and controlled. Falco turned to him, confused.

  “My help?” Falco asked, his brows furrowing.

  Eren nodded. “I need to send some letters to my family. They’re probably worried sick about me.”

  Falco, always eager to help, nodded enthusiastically. “I can do that! No problem, Mister. Kruger.”

  Eren smiled faintly, though his mind was already elsewhere, focused on the letters he would send, on the Scouts who would inevitably come. Everything was falling into place. He just had to stay the course, keep moving forward, no matter the cost.

  Because there was no turning back now.

  As Eren continued to walk through the streets of Liberio with Falco, his mind drifted once more—this time to thoughts of his half-brother, Zeke Jaeger. He hadn’t seen Zeke in the four years since the Battle of Shiganshina, the day their lives had briefly intersected without either of them truly knowing their connection. Back then, Zeke was nothing more than the enemy, the Beast Titan who had devastated the Scouts, the one who nearly obliterated everything they fought for. Eren could still vividly recall that moment—he and Armin had just taken down Bertholdt, the Colossal Titan, but the battle wasn’t over.

  Zeke had appeared, riding on the back of the Cart Titan, his body battered and broken, courtesy of Captain Levi’s relentless assault. Levi had sliced through Zeke, cutting off his limbs with surgical precision, forcing the Beast Titan into a desperate retreat. Zeke had barely escaped with his life, but before he disappeared, he had stopped, locking eyes with Eren. His words still echoed in Eren’s mind, strange and cryptic:

  "Someday, I’ll be back to rescue you."

  At the time, Eren hadn’t known what Zeke meant. To him, Zeke was simply another enemy—a deadly one, but still just a target to be taken down. He had no idea of the true connection they shared, no idea that Zeke was his elder half-brother. All Eren knew was that Zeke had fought with Marley, that he had destroyed countless lives, and that he needed to be stopped.

  But after reading the books his father had left behind in the basement of their home in Shiganshina, everything had changed. The truth about his family, his father’s life, and the history of the Titans had come crashing down on him like a tidal wave. Through his father’s memories, Eren had learned about Zeke’s true identity. He wasn’t just the Beast Titan—he was Grisha’s son from his first marriage, the child born of Dina Fritz, the woman who had been turned into a Titan and had devoured Eren’s mother, Carla.

  The weight of that revelation had been staggering. Zeke, the man who had been his enemy, was also the son of the Titan who had caused Eren so much pain, the same woman who had taken his mother from him. And Zeke wasn’t just another Titan shifter—he had royal blood. As the son of Dina Fritz, a member of the royal family, Zeke was the key to unlocking the true power of the Founding Titan.

  Eren had known for a while now that in order to fully activate the Founding Titan’s power and use the Rumbling, he needed to make physical contact with a titan of royal blood. He had first realized this during the battle with the Smiling Titan—Dina’s Titan—when he had commanded the other Titans to attack with nothing more than a scream. The blood connection had triggered something deep within him, and he had felt the power of the Founding Titan surge through his veins.

  Since then, the knowledge had lingered in the back of his mind: if he could somehow make contact with Zeke, he would be able to unleash the full power of the Founding Titan. And now, with the War Hammer Titan on the horizon, Eren’s plan was clearer than ever. Once the Raid on Liberio was complete, and once he had devoured the War Hammer Titan, his next target would be Zeke.

  He knew that after the Raid, Marley would retaliate. They would come to Paradis with everything they had—soldiers, weapons, and Titans, including Zeke. The world couldn’t afford to let Paradis rise as a new power, not with the threat of the Rumbling hanging over them. But Eren wasn’t afraid. In fact, he welcomed it. Because by the time Marley came for them, he would be ready.

  By then, he would have the power of the War Hammer Titan in his arsenal, a weapon that could reshape the battlefield in ways no one could predict. The power to create structures, to build weapons—he had seen glimpses of it in his father’s memories, and he knew it would be invaluable in the battles to come. But more than that, Eren had already decided what needed to happen. When Marley brought Zeke to Paradis, Eren would make contact with him. And once that happened, it would be over.

  It’ll be game over for everyone.

  He could feel it in his bones—the inevitability of the coming confrontation. Zeke’s royal blood would be the key to triggering the full force of the Rumbling, an army of colossal Titans hidden within the walls of Paradis, ready to be unleashed upon the world. And Eren knew exactly what he was going to do with that power.

  He would wipe out every last life beyond Paradis’ shores.

  Everything is falling into place, Eren thought, his mind calm but resolute. I just have to keep moving forward.

  Falco’s voice broke through his thoughts, and Eren glanced down at the boy, who was still talking, completely unaware of the storm of plans and strategies swirling in Eren’s mind.

  “Hey, Mister Kruger, are you okay? You look like you’re thinking really hard about something,” Falco said, his youthful voice filled with concern.

  Eren blinked, snapping back to the present. He offered the boy a small smile, shaking his head. “I’m fine,” he said, his voice steady. “Just thinking about my family.”

  Falco nodded, looking relieved. “Well, if you need help with those letters, I’ll be happy to deliver them! Just tell me when.”

  Eren nodded, his mind already moving ahead to the next steps. “I’ll let you know soon. Thanks, Falco.”

  As they continued walking, Eren’s thoughts drifted back to the plan. Soon, everything would come together. The War Hammer Titan, Zeke, the Rumbling. And then, no one would ever dare threaten Paradis again.

  …

  Back at the cabin, the atmosphere was calm, the air crisp with the scent of pine and herbs. Aurora had just finished her daily chores—tending to the small garden, gathering herbs, and tidying the cabin. Her mind, as always, was focused on her next experiment. With the tools Eren had managed to secure for her, including a few syringes and a basic first aid kit, she had been able to elevate her experiments. Eren had encouraged her to keep working on her herbal mixtures, and she had thrown herself into it, determined to find new ways to help him and possibly the scouts when the time came.

  Today, she had been working on something new. While her elixirs had proven useful for Eren’s fatigue, she wanted to create something more immediate—something that could relieve stress in an instant, something that could soothe the mind and body, especially in the midst of combat or heavy tension. The mixture she was working on was one she had been fine-tuning for weeks, using herbs known for their calming properties. She hoped this one would be the breakthrough she needed.

  A small bird had landed near the cabin earlier, weak and seemingly in distress. Aurora had carefully caught it, her heart going out to the fragile creature. She decided to test her newest creation on it, reasoning that if it could calm the bird’s stress, it could work on a human as well. Her hands moved swiftly and carefully as she prepared the syringe, drawing the pale liquid into the needle. The bird sat in a small wooden box, its fragile body trembling slightly.

  Aurora approached slowly, murmuring softly to calm the bird. She didn’t want to hurt it—only to help. She carefully injected the bird with the serum, her heart beating with a mixture of hope and anxiety.

  But then, almost immediately, something went wrong.

  The bird twitched violently, its small body convulsing in her hands. Aurora’s eyes widened in horror as the bird began to spasm uncontrollably, its wings flapping erratically. Her breath caught in her throat, panic surging through her as she watched helplessly. “No, no, no…” she whispered, her voice trembling. “Please, no…”

  The convulsions lasted only a few seconds, but to Aurora, it felt like an eternity. And then, just as suddenly as it had started, the bird stilled. It lay motionless in her hands, its small chest no longer rising and falling. Aurora stared at it, her heart sinking with the crushing realization of what had just happened.

  The bird was dead.

  Her hands shook as she gently set the bird down on the table, her eyes wide with disbelief. How had this happened? The mixture was supposed to be harmless—a simple stress reliever. She had used herbs that were known for their calming effects, ones that had been used in remedies for centuries. But something had gone horribly wrong. Instead of calming the bird, she had killed it.

  Aurora took a step back, her heart pounding in her chest as a wave of guilt and horror washed over her. The bird’s small, lifeless body lay still on the table, a stark reminder of her failure. She hadn’t meant for this to happen. She had only wanted to help, to create something useful, something that could ease Eren’s burdens and maybe even save lives in the future. But instead, she had created something lethal.

  Her hands trembled as she reached for the vial containing the rest of the mixture, staring at the liquid inside with a mix of fear and confusion. What had she done wrong? What ingredient had caused this reaction? She had been so careful, so precise. She had tested each component individually, and none of them had shown any signs of being dangerous.

  But together… together, they had created something deadly.

  Aurora felt tears prickling at the corners of her eyes, but she blinked them away, refusing to cry. She couldn’t afford to be emotional about this. She needed to figure out what had gone wrong, to understand why the mixture had become so dangerous. But as she stood there, staring at the lifeless bird, a deep sense of dread settled over her.

  What if she had tested this on a person? What if she had given this to Eren?

  The thought made her stomach turn. If Eren had taken this mixture, if she had given it to him in the hope of easing his stress, it could have killed him. The very idea made her feel sick, her heart pounding painfully in her chest. She had been so focused on helping him, so desperate to do something useful, that she hadn’t stopped to consider the potential risks.

  Aurora sank into the chair by the table, her mind racing with a mixture of fear and regret. She had never intended for this to happen. She had always believed in the sanctity of life, always wanted to use her skills to heal and protect, never to harm. But now, she had inadvertently created a deadly poison, and it terrified her.

  She glanced at the vial again, her mind swirling with questions. What would she do now? She couldn’t keep experimenting with this mixture—not until she understood what had gone wrong. But part of her was afraid to even touch it again. What if she made another mistake? What if the next time, it wasn’t a bird, but someone she cared about?

  Aurora buried her face in her hands, her body trembling with the weight of her realization. She had failed. And that failure could have cost someone their life.

  …

  When Eren opened the door to the cabin that evening, the first thing he noticed was the heavy, tense atmosphere hanging in the air. The usual warmth and calm of their home felt off, and it didn’t take long for him to figure out why. Aurora, who always greeted him with a soft smile or a simple acknowledgment when he returned, was seated at the small table, frantically flipping through the pages of her notebook. Her face was pale, her eyes wide with a mix of panic and exhaustion, and her hair, usually so meticulously tied back, was in disarray.

  She didn’t even look up when he stepped inside. Her fingers moved rapidly across the pages, and Eren could hear her muttering to herself under her breath, almost as if she was trying to reason through something, but the tremble in her voice gave away her distress.

  “Aurora?” Eren said quietly, shutting the door behind him.

  She didn’t respond, her eyes glued to her notes as she scribbled something down, only to cross it out a second later. Eren frowned, his concern deepening. He set his things down and took a step toward her, his voice firmer this time. “Aurora.”

  At the sound of his voice, she flinched slightly, finally tearing her gaze away from her notebook. Her wide, ice-blue eyes met his, and Eren’s chest tightened at the sight of the panic written all over her face.

  “Eren…” she whispered, her voice shaky. “I—I messed up.”

  Eren’s frown deepened as he moved closer, pulling up a chair beside her. He could see the exhaustion in her posture, the way her hands trembled slightly as she clutched her notebook. “What happened?” he asked gently, though his voice held a note of urgency. He had never seen Aurora like this before.

  Aurora took a deep breath, trying to steady herself, but her thoughts were racing too fast for her to focus. “I was… I was working on something new,” she began, her voice tight. “A stress reliever. I thought it would help you—help us. But something went wrong, Eren. I tested it on a bird I found, and… it died.”

  Eren’s eyes flicked to the small table, and for the first time, he noticed the tiny, lifeless body of the bird lying on a cloth beside her notes. His stomach clenched at the sight, but he kept his gaze steady on Aurora, who looked on the verge of breaking down.

  “I didn’t mean for it to happen,” she continued, her voice cracking slightly. “I thought I had everything right. I tested each herb, I was so careful, but when I put them together… it created something deadly. I killed that bird, Eren. It—it could have been you.”

  The last words came out in a choked whisper, and Eren could see the guilt and fear in her eyes. Her hands shook as she ran them through her hair, pulling at the strands in frustration.

  “I don’t know what went wrong,” she said, her voice breaking. “I’ve been going through my notes all day, trying to figure it out, but I don’t understand. What if I had given it to you? What if—” She stopped, her breath hitching as the full weight of her fears settled over her.

  Eren’s heart tightened at the sight of her so distraught, so shaken. He could see how deeply this affected her, how much she had been carrying the weight of this mistake. Without thinking, he reached out, placing his hand gently on her shoulder.

  “Aurora,” he said softly, his voice calm but firm. “It’s okay.”

  She shook her head, tears brimming in her eyes. “No, it’s not. I could have killed you. I thought I was helping, but I—”

  “You didn’t kill me,” Eren interrupted gently, his voice steady. “You didn’t give me the mixture. You tested it first. You were careful.”

  Aurora stared at him, her eyes shimmering with tears, her expression filled with guilt and doubt. “But if I hadn’t tested it…”

  “But you did,” Eren said, his tone firm. “You tested it, Aurora. You made sure it was safe before doing anything else. You didn’t take any unnecessary risks.” He glanced at the bird for a moment, then back at her. “And as much as I understand you feel responsible for this, you didn’t fail. You’re trying to help, and that’s what matters.”

  Aurora wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand, her breath coming in shaky bursts. “But what if I fail again?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper. “What if I hurt someone next time? I don’t know what I did wrong, Eren. I don’t know if I’ll ever figure it out.”

  Eren leaned in slightly, his hand still resting gently on her shoulder. “You won’t hurt anyone,” he said quietly, his eyes softening as he spoke. “Because you’ll figure it out. I know you will. You’re careful, and you care. That’s why I trust you.”

  Aurora stared at him, her heart pounding at the sincerity in his voice. The guilt still weighed heavily on her, but Eren’s calm presence made it easier to breathe, easier to think. He wasn’t angry with her. He wasn’t upset or disappointed. If anything, he seemed relieved that she had taken precautions.

  “I just don’t want to hurt anyone,” she murmured, her voice filled with emotion.

  Eren nodded, his gaze soft but determined. “I know. And you won’t. You’re too careful for that.” He paused for a moment, his eyes searching hers. “Aurora, we’re living in a world where everything is dangerous. Where every step we take is a risk. You didn’t mean for this to happen. And the fact that you’re trying this hard to find something that can help—it means more to me than you know.”

  Aurora’s chest tightened at his words, and she bit her lip, trying to hold back more tears. “I’m sorry, Eren. I was so scared… I didn’t know what to do.”

  Eren gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze. “You don’t have to do this alone,” he said softly. “I’m here. And if you need help, we’ll figure it out together.”

  Aurora nodded slowly, feeling some of the weight lifting from her shoulders. She took a deep, shaky breath, her fingers brushing lightly over the pages of her notebook. She still had so much to figure out, but with Eren beside her, it didn’t feel as overwhelming anymore.

  “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice filled with gratitude.

  Eren gave her a small smile, one that softened his usual stern expression. “Anytime.”

  And as the evening settled around them, the cabin felt just a little bit warmer.