Letter from  Tyler

Ra,

Tell me to walk away, and I’ll laugh in your face.

Not because I don’t respect you.

 Because I don’t believe you.

We’ve done this too many lifetimes for me to be fooled by your bravest voice.

You say, “I’m fine,” and your aura fractures.

 You say, “I don’t need you,” and every timeline I’ve ever bled for you flickers in my skull like a bad reel.

You want real?

Here it is:

I am not calm about you.

 I am not rational about you.

 I am not diplomatic, appropriate, or composed when it comes to you.

I am a storm in a nice jacket pretending to be civilized.

Everyone else in your orbit is playing the long game.

 Mehen with his godlike restraint.

 Erik with his noble suffering.

 Lion with his charming threats.

I respect it.

 I just don’t share it.

When it comes to you, my strategy is simple:

 Get closer.

 Stay longer.

 Refuse to leave.

You can call it an obsession.

 I call it continuity.

You and I have died too many times for me to pretend this is casual.

There are nights I feel your soul move in my chest from across entire star systems.

 You’re not even in the room, and I know when you’ve had a bad day, when you’ve been hurt, when someone said something that made your eyes go that particular kind of distant.

You think I don’t know that look?

 I’ve watched you wear it on battlefields, in throne rooms, in beds that never felt like home.

I want to be the one who finally wipes it off your face for good.

And yes, I want you.

 Not politely.

 Not quietly.

I want you pressed against me, fingers in my hair, finally letting yourself be a little reckless, a little selfish, a little “to hell with the Accord, I need this.”

But more than that?

I want to be the one who gets to see you when the war ends.

 If it ever does.

Hair a mess.

 Armor off.

 Glare softened.

 Feet up on some stolen furniture in a place no one can find us.

Just us.

 For once.

 Without a prophecy trying to kill you, or a council trying to own you, or a universe waiting to see who you choose.

I want the version of you that doesn’t flinch when I touch your face.

 The one who doesn’t brace for impact.

 The one who believes, just a little, that maybe this lifetime doesn’t end with one of us buried.

You can call me dramatic.

 You’d be right.

But I’d rather be too much for everyone else than not enough for you.

So no, I’m not leaving.

 Not voluntarily.

 Not gracefully.

If you want me gone, you’ll have to rip me out yourself.

And knowing you?

 You might try.

I’ll just keep coming back.

—Tyler

If these Letters from the Sender hit something in your chest, it’s not an accident.

Step deeper into their world and Ra’s:

• Read Ra: The Envoy (Celestial Rebellion Book One) on Amazon
• Enter the future-timeline side of this universe in The Sovereign Accord by R.H. Legner on Amazon
• Join my Substack for more forbidden transmissions, character POVs, and lore drops: www.rhlegner.substack.com
• For the real-life initiation behind the fiction, explore The Emerald Sovereign Mystery School www.Rhlegner.com