14.

  Faelwen

  “Can anyone tell me what the whole conversation was about?” Spook asked, a half-crushed sand cookie dangling between his fingers. Elora chuckled softly.

  “Ah, right… I forgot.”

  Spook stared at her, unimpressed.

  “You forgot? I’ve been traveling with you for weeks now.”

  He grin curved slow, sly as moonlight slipping across still water. “Maybe I just like to keep you guessing. You know… keeps things interesting.”

  A mischievous spark lit behind Spook’s eyes. “If you want me to punish you for that, princess, by all means, don’t stop.”

  A faint flush bloomed along Elora’s cheeks, but she buried it quickly beneath her confidence.

  “As if you could even catch me,” she tossed back, voice smooth with mockery.

  I pressed my hand to my mouth, barely stifling a laugh as Ash’s eyes flickered with amusement. Even Artemis’ stern features twitched faintly at the corners. Spook’s grin only deepened, curling like a wolf scenting prey. “Last I checked, I did catch you.”

  “That’s because I let you catch me, puppy,” Elora teased, snatching up one of those disgusting sand cookies and biting into it. Her expression soured instantly just like mine did when I ate one of the cookies.

  “They’re awful, aren’t they?” I muttered, grimacing as I washed the gritty taste from my own mouth with water. Spook’s face twisted with indignation, giving Elora no time to answer me. “Puppy?!”

  Elora’s eyes gleamed with mischief still as she popped the rest of the cookie into her mouth. “Puppy,” she confirmed sweetly. “That’s your new nickname.”

  “It’s barely better than ‘boy’,” Spook grumbled, folding his arms across his chest. Elora blew him a kiss, a smile spreading across her face. I shook my head, the sound of their bickering fading as my attention drifted toward Ash. His gaze stretched beyond the room, beyond the flickering mage light, as though seeing something the rest of us couldn’t.

  In the background, Elora and Spook’s laughter carried on, light and thorny all at once. Artemis shifted beside me, his broad frame curling closer, and the faint weight of his head settled onto my lap. His warmth grounded me, but beneath it, I could feel the quiet unease coiled in his body. A tension pulsed faintly through the bond between me and Ash.

  He’s worried, Artemis’ voice whispered across my mind. Yeah… I could feel it too.

  I threaded my fingers through his dark hair, tracing them along the rigid line of his neck. He dipped his head back and leaned into my touch, his eyes closed.

  “Everything alright, my love?” I asked softly, giving his shoulder the faintest squeeze.

  His eyes met mine, a quiet, practice smile shaping his lips, but I saw the shadows lingering there just beneath the surface. “I’m fine,” he replied, his voice steady but tight. “We should be focusing on the dragon… the runestone .”

  “Slow down. The dragon can wait,” I urged, my voice low but insistent. “I can feel you’re worried. What is it?”

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  His jaw tightened, the faintest flicker of frustration and warning rising in his eyes. The look he always gave me when he wanted me to drop it. But I didn’t. I held his gaze, unwavering.

  After a heartbeat, his shoulders sagged with quiet surrender. His gaze shifted, voice softer now.

  “I was thinking about my father… and my little brother,” he admitted, the words heavy with unspoken fear.

  “They lived by the sea… near Townhaven.” His throat bobbed as he swallowed. “If that coastline’s fallen, I keep wondering… did they make it out?”

  “Oh, my love,” I murmured, my voice barely a breath between us. “That feeling… I know it far too well. I, too, have loved ones near Townhaven.”

  I slipped an arm around his shoulders, drawing him close, anchoring him to me with the quiet strength of my embrace. He didn’t resist. Instead, he leaned in, his breath trembling as he pulled me onto his lap and buried his face in the curve of my neck and into my hair. The scent of him was laced with sorrow.

  “It’s alright,” I whispered, threading my fingers through his dark strands as his chest heaved with the breath he’d been holding far too long. “You can let go. Just for a moment.”

  “I dare not hope,” he murmured, the words muffled against my skin, raw and brittle. “Because if I do… and I find out they’re gone…”

  “You don’t need to explain,” I said gently, holding his head close. “You’ve already lost so much. And the last time you let yourself believe, truly believe, you came home to ashes. Your mother, your sister… you’re still carrying that wound.”

  His fingers combed slowly through my hair, the other arm tightened around my waist, as though afraid I might vanish too.

  “I won’t tell you to have faith,” I said, my voice, low, steady. “Not because I don’t believe in it, but because I know you can’t right now. And that’s alright. Maybe this moment isn’t about belief. Maybe… it’s about standing still in the storm. About letting yourself feel the truth of it all. The fear, the grief, the helplessness.”

  He trembled slightly, and I could feel his heart beat against mine, steady but aching.

  “Some days aren’t meant for strength,” I whispered. “Some days are for breaking. For weeping. For rage and sorrow. But these feelings, my love… they’re like the tides. They’ll rise. They’ll crash. And they’ll recede again. Like the sea you grew up beside. Like the seasons we pass through. One day, a new dawn will come. And it might hurt a little less. The air might be a little easier to breathe. But until then…”

  I pressed my lips against his temple. “Until then, I’ll hold you. I’ll stay beside you. Even in the dark. Especially in the dark. And I’ll remind you that you are not alone.”

  Ash shifted in my arms, and when he looked up, his eyes shimmered with unshed tears. He touched my cheek, his thumb brushing slightly across my skin. Then he leaned forward, pressing his lips to mine, not to claim, not to ask, but simply to feel. A tether. A moment of stillness in the storm.

  “Thank you,” he whispered, voice frayed with emotion. “Thank you, darling.”

  He rested his forehead against mine, and we stayed like that, suspended in silence, letting our hearts speak in the stillness between breaths.

  ? ? ?

  The next morning broke sluggish and hot, heavy with unspoken tension. Even though we were a few feet underground, I could still feel the heat coming of the walls. Strategies were exchanged like worn cards around a meagre breakfast, but none of them offered a way to kill the dragon and take the Runestone .

  The last time we fought a dragon, we nearly didn’t survive. It was Artemis who had saved us then, not through steel, but probably words. He told me he had spoken to Syltharian and calmed him down. But this time… words of wisdom would not help.

  The dragon-woman we encountered yesterday had told us plainly that this one had lost her mind. Her young had been slaughtered by raiders. Her soul, shattered. Her fire was no longer guided by wisdom, only grief. A wave of sorrow caught me unguarded. I closed my eyes. I understood that kind of madness.

  The loss of a child, whether still nestled beneath your heart or grown and flown, is a wound that time does not mend. It steals the breath from your lungs. It cleaves a part of your soul you never get back.

  I realized then I hadn’t been checking on my body that well. The blood loss from the past days had eased, but it left its mark. Fatigue clinging to me like a second skin. Grief did the rest. A fog, slow and thick.

  “Why don’t you lay down, darling?” Ash’s voice pulled me gently from the haze. “We won’t leave until after sunset.”

  I blinked up at him, his face lined with worry. He’d seen it, the weight in my limbs, the dark smudges beneath my eyes. I nodded faintly and stood, my legs sluggish beneath me, and crossed the room to the bed by the wall.

  The moment I lay down, exhaustion claimed me. It didn’t matter that I’d slept the night before, my body felt as though it hadn’t rested in years.

  Your body is recovering, Wen, Artemis’s voice hummed softly in my mind, and I turned to see him curl himself at my feet. Grief takes its toll. Let yourself rest. I’ll keep watch.

  And with that comfort, I let the world fade.