Night came slow across the scarred lands, draping its veil of black and silver over the companions. They had made camp near the edge of the ruins, a circle of broken stones shielding them from the open road. The fire sputtered weakly, fed by scraps of wood scavenged from what remained of shattered beams.
Kael sat apart from the others, sharpening his blade with long, deliberate strokes. Sparks glinted with each pass of the whetstone, but his crimson eyes were turned inward, thoughts deeper than the steel in his hands.
Darius rested against a stone, his arms crossed, gaze ever scanning the dark. Aric had collapsed beside his pack, already half-asleep, his youth allowing him to steal peace where he could.
Seliora, however, did not sleep. She sat at the fire's edge, her slender fingers clasped around the wooden staff that had been her anchor since childhood. The flickering light cast shifting shadows across her face, deepening the hollow lines carved by weariness.
Her eyes, usually sharp and unflinching, were lost somewhere in the flames.
Kael noticed. He always noticed.
"Seliora," he said quietly, setting aside his blade. "You're too awake for someone who hasn't closed her eyes in two days."
She looked up, startled, as though dragged from somewhere far away. A faint smile curved her lips, but it was brittle. "I'll sleep when I've earned it."
Kael tilted his head. "Earned it?"
She shifted, her cloak falling to reveal the faint silver runes inked into her arm—a sigil burned into her flesh during her initiation years ago. They glowed faintly in the firelight, as if stirred by her unease.
"I saw the village," she murmured. "What was left of it. The Sovereign doesn't just kill, Kael. He takes. He steals everything—the memory of what was. And we… we can't stop it."
Kael's crimson eyes didn't waver. "We stopped the Commander."
"One man," she replied, her voice suddenly sharp, brittle as glass. "And for every one we cut down, how many more rise in his place? Do you not see it? We're chasing shadows while the darkness spreads faster than we can follow."
Her words hung heavy, heavier than the night. Even Darius, pretending to rest with his eyes closed, opened them at her tone.
Kael didn't move closer, but his voice softened, carrying the weight of conviction. "Shadows are only proof there is light. As long as we stand, the Sovereign has not taken everything."
Seliora laughed then, bitter and tired. "You speak like Kaelen."
The name struck Kael like a blade between the ribs. Memories flickered—his old master, the one who had plucked him from ruin and given him a purpose when the world had abandoned him. A man whose wisdom had been as sharp as his cruelty.
"Then he taught us well," Kael said, though the words tasted of ash.
Seliora lowered her gaze, fingers tightening around her staff. "Do you ever wonder, Kael? What he saw in you that day? Why he chose you and not another?"
Kael looked into the fire, his crimson eyes reflecting the flames. "Every day."
Silence followed, but it was not empty. The kind of silence where thoughts pressed louder than words. The fire crackled; the night wind whispered through the broken stones.
Finally, Seliora whispered, her voice barely audible: "Sometimes I think… I'm not strong enough for this road. Not for you. Not for the fight we're walking into."
Kael turned, really turned, so his gaze met hers. There was no pity there, no softness. Only truth forged in steel.
"You are stronger than you believe," he said. "And weaker than you wish. The same is true of me. The same is true of us all. But it's not strength that keeps us standing—it's resolve."
For a long moment, Seliora held his gaze. Her chest rose and fell with the weight of a thousand doubts, but something steadied in her eyes. Not the absence of fear, but the will to carry it.
She gave a small, weary smile. "You always know how to make words sound heavier than swords."
Kael's lips curved faintly. "Then carry them like armor."
Darius grunted from his corner. "If you two are done whispering philosophies into the fire, some of us would like to keep our ears open for husks."
Aric mumbled in his sleep, "Some of us would like to keep our ears closed."
For the first time in days, Seliora's laugh was real. It was soft, fleeting, but it was enough.
Kael leaned back, eyes turning once more toward the night sky, the stars dimmed by smoke yet still stubbornly burning. Somewhere, beyond the veil of ash, the Sovereign's darkness grew. But here, in this small circle of firelight, a different flame endured.