Elara nodded. "You're here because something in you has scattered. We'll put it back together. Piece by piece."
"You don't have to want it," Elara said gently. "But it belongs in the story. You can't put something together by leaving out the broken pieces." Elara nodded
She led him to a long oak table covered in small wooden drawers. Each drawer held a memory: a shard of a lullaby, the scent of burned toast, the shadow of a laugh, the weight of a hand that used to hold his. Finn didn't recognize them at first. But Elara began to pull them out, one by one, and lay them on the velvet cloth. the scent of burned toast