Chapter Forty-Four: Embers Never Sleep
The sun rose slowly over Riverfort, casting golden light over the orchard where everything had begun. The trees glistened with dew, and birds sang in cautious harmony, as if the land was still unsure whether peace had truly returned.
Talen sat beneath the old flame-oak, legs crossed, watching the sky.
There were no shards in his hands now.
No whispers in the wind.
No mirror pulling at his soul.
But the fire in his chest—it was still there.
Quieter.
But awake.
Lira approached with two steaming mugs of tea, her steps soft on the grass.
She handed him one and sat beside him without a word. Together, they watched the orchard breathe.
"It feels wrong," Talen said eventually.
She looked at him.
"The quiet?"
He nodded. "After everything… it's like the world forgot."
Lira took a sip. "Not forgot. Just… started again."
A breeze stirred the trees. A leaf, the color of ember, drifted down and landed on Talen's shoulder.
He didn't brush it off.
Riverfort was healing.
Nyra had reopened the halls, though fewer students remained. Some had gone home, called back to scattered villages now safe again. Others had left to chase answers of their own.
But those who stayed were different now. They walked taller. Spoke softer. As though they, too, had heard the voice of the mirrors.
That afternoon, Talen helped rebuild the eastern wall—one that had cracked under the weight of the Crownfire. His hands were raw by sundown, his shirt stained with earth and sweat.
But for the first time, the labor felt real.
Not prophecy.
Not fate.
Just work.
Lira joined him later, a bundle of supplies over her shoulder.
"I spoke to Nyra," she said, dropping a beam beside him.
"Yeah?"
"She said there's still knowledge hidden—scrolls from before the breaking, texts about the Voicekeepers."
He raised an eyebrow. "She's asking us to stay?"
"She's offering us a choice."
Talen smiled faintly. "Those are rare these days."
That night, they sat on the roof of the dormitory, wrapped in a single wool blanket. The stars shone brighter than ever before—uncrowded by storms or firelight.
Lira rested her head on Talen's shoulder.
"Do you think the mirrors are really gone?" she asked.
He thought for a long time.
"I think they gave us what we needed," he said. "And when they were done… they left."
"Or they're waiting again," she said.
He nodded. "Maybe. But if they come back…"
"We'll be ready," she finished.
A silence settled between them.
Not awkward.
Not heavy.
Just earned.
Eventually, Talen broke it.
"What would you do," he asked, "if we never had to fight again?"
She turned to him, thoughtful.
"Plant something," she said.
"Like a tree?"
She smiled. "Like a future."
In the distance, far beyond Riverfort's hills, a small pulse of light shimmered once—briefly—beneath the soil.
Not dangerous.
Not dark.
Just a memory.
Still glowing.
Because some embers never sleep.
They just wait for someone brave enough to carry the flame.