The village was small—perhaps only a few hundred families—but well-guarded. Wooden palisades ringed the perimeter, reinforced with charm-stones and runes faintly glowing beneath moss and ivy. It wasn’t grand, but to the four who had walked for days through twisted forest paths and faced death more than once, it was sanctuary.
The moment they stepped past the barrier, a heavy silence lifted from their shoulders. The oppressive pressure of the forest vanished. The air smelled of baked bread and burning firewood instead of blood and damp moss. For the first time in weeks, they could hear the mundane joys of life: metal clanging at the blacksmith’s forge, children calling to one another, a dog barking from behind a fence.
But they must have looked like ghosts.
Kael walked at the front, carrying Liz in his arms—her body limp, unconscious, but visibly breathing. Blood stained his torn sleeve, seeping through a gash across his bicep. His jaw was tight. His eyes dared anyone to come too close.
Ezryn followed next, steady as always, though dirt and soot clung to his coat. His eyes scanned the street quickly—people were stopping, staring. Murmurs rose like a breeze. Concern, fear, curiosity.
Lirael brought up the rear, blades of wind still faint around her, her golden hair tangled and her expression unreadable.
Ezryn stepped forward before tensions could grow. His voice, calm and polished, broke the murmuring crowd. “We’re travelers. We’ve just escaped the forest. Is there an inn nearby? Preferably close to the traveler’s guild or an infirmary?”
The townspeople—startled by how young they were—quickly softened. A kind woman with flour on her apron pointed up the street. “There’s an inn near the guild hall. Just three buildings down past the baker’s shop. You’ll find what you need there.”
Ezryn offered a gentle nod. “Thank you. We’re grateful.”
They made their way to the inn—a small two-story structure nestled in between a tavern and the guild’s stone-walled outpost. A sign with faded paint hung above the door: The Hearthlight. A warm place.
Inside, the keeper didn’t ask questions. Seeing Liz unconscious, he simply handed over the key and called for fresh linens.
Upstairs, Kael placed Liz gently on the bed in their rented room. The late afternoon sun cast a golden glow across the wooden floorboards.
Lirael entered behind him and hesitated.
“You need to treat your wound,” she said, her voice quiet but firm.
“I’m fine,” Kael said without looking at her. He was still holding Liz’s hand, eyes unmoving.
“You’re not,” Lirael said more sharply. “And I still need to help her clean up. It’s not exactly appropriate for you to be here, Kael.”
Ezryn, standing in the hallway, quietly turned and walked away. Kael didn’t budge.
But after a long moment, he finally exhaled. He released Liz’s hand with clear reluctance and stood. “Fine. Call me the moment she wakes.”
“I will.”
Kael left without another word. Lirael closed the door behind him.
She turned back to Liz. The girl’s expression was peaceful—but pale. Exhausted. Her skin still held streaks of soot, and dried blood stained the edge of her collar. Lirael knelt beside her, dampened a cloth, and began cleaning her gently.
“I hope it doesn’t hurt anymore,” she whispered. “Whatever’s weighing you.”
The silence responded like an embrace.
She cleaned Liz’s hands next—small, warm, but still trembling faintly. And something about them stirred something inside her. A sensation she couldn’t name.
“Maybe this is fate,” she said aloud. “Maybe… I was meant to protect you. Even if I don’t remember why.”
She paused.
“I don’t know what ties us. But I know what I feel. Like I owe you the world. Like there’s a promise already made.”
She didn’t realize how much she’d been speaking aloud until the room stilled again.
Lirael stayed by Liz’s side until the candle burned low.
And still, Liz slept on—silent, suspended between worlds—while outside the first stars began to pierce through the dusk.
The inn’s dining hall glowed with a gentle amber hue, warmed by the crackling hearth at its center. The scent of roasted herbs and wood smoke hung in the air, but the three seated in the far corner didn’t touch their food. They sat in quiet fatigue, the weight of the past few days pressing heavier than any battle wound.
Lirael descended the stairs, her steps light, but her face taut with exhaustion. She’d spent the last hour tending to Liz—cleaning her wounds, changing her clothes, whispering comfort to a girl too unconscious to hear it. She slid into the empty seat across from Kael and Ezryn.
Without a word, she pulled out the chair beside Ezryn and sat.
Kael glanced at her, eyes shadowed by fatigue but sharp with anticipation. “How is she?”
“She’s resting,” Lirael said, reaching for the cup of water Ezryn passed her.
“She’s sleeping now,” she said. “The spell she cast before collapsing helped more than we thought. Her breathing is steady. She’s safe.”
Kael’s shoulders loosened slightly. He hadn’t even realized how tightly he’d been gripping his own arm.
“She didn’t say anything?” Ezryn asked.
Lirael shook her head. “No… but you could feel it. The pain. Not just her body—it’s something else. That kind of sorrow doesn’t need words.”
Silence.
“She woke up in a world that no longer remembers her,” she continued, eyes softening. “And the one person who gave her warmth… is gone.”
Kael turned his eyes to the fire. It danced like something alive, flickering in the silence they could not fill.
Ezryn leaned forward. “Martha said we were bound by fate. That this isn’t coincidence.”
Kael’s voice was low. “I don’t believe in fate.”
Lirael tilted her head. “And yet, here we are.”
Another quiet passed between them before Kael finally spoke again. “From the moment I saw her… I couldn’t look away.”
Ezryn stilled.
“She wasn’t just beautiful. It felt like something I lost was suddenly right in front of me again.” Kael clenched his jaw, then exhaled slowly. “I thought it would fade, that it was just some strange echo from the forest. But it hasn’t.”
Lirael lowered her gaze. Her heart felt caught in something too large to name.
Kael continued, more subdued. “I’m not saying it makes sense. Maybe it never will. But when she’s near, everything else quiets.”
His words settled in the air like falling ash.
Ezryn gave the smallest nod, concealing the weight that tightened behind his ribs. He had felt it too—that pull. But hearing Kael speak of it with such certainty made something shift inside him. A quiet step backward. He did not speak, only listened.
Lirael broke the silence this time, voice thoughtful. “There’s something inside her. Something older than memory. Something we’ve all brushed against, even if we can’t explain it.”
“She’s the reason we were drawn together,” Kael said. “That forest, the visions… Martha… it all led to her.”
“But we still don’t know who she really is,” Ezryn added.
Kael looked down at the table, his hand resting against the wooden surface as if anchoring himself. “Whoever she is, she shouldn’t carry this alone.”
Lirael looked between them, a quiet resolve forming behind her eyes. “Then let’s not let her.”
Ezryn gave a slow, firm nod. “We stay. Until the end.”
Kael didn’t speak again, but the look in his eyes said it all. He would carry her through fire if he had to.
Comments (0)
See all