The fire had burned low, reduced to glowing embers. Darius sat like a stone sentinel against the wall of ruined masonry, Seliora leaned lightly against her staff, eyes finally closed, and Kael sharpened his sword in silence.
But Aric… could not rest.
The boy shifted on his bedroll, twisting, turning, kicking free of his blanket as if something crawled beneath his skin. His eyes snapped open to the darkness, pupils dilated wide, breath quick. For a moment, he wasn't sure if he had awoken or if the dream still clutched at him.
He had seen them again—the faces of the fallen. The villagers they had failed to save in Alvess Hollow. The broken corpses left behind after the Sovereign's purge. Their mouths moved soundlessly in his memory, accusing, begging, condemning.
Aric pushed himself up with a strangled breath. The campfire's dim glow seemed too small, too fragile against the dark pressing in on all sides.
Kael's crimson eyes slid toward him instantly. "You're awake."
Aric flinched at the calm tone, as if Kael had peeled open the boy's skull and read his fear directly. He forced a shaky laugh. "Couldn't sleep. Not with… all this."
Kael did not press further, returning to his blade. The steady rhythm of steel against whetstone filled the silence.
But Seliora stirred. Half-asleep, she muttered, "Dreams again?"
Aric froze. "…Maybe."
Seliora's eyes cracked open, hazy with exhaustion but touched with quiet sympathy. "They'll pass. Or they'll stay. Either way, you'll keep walking."
Darius grunted from his corner without opening his eyes. "If the boy keeps thrashing like that, he'll wake the dead before the Sovereign's husks do."
Heat rushed to Aric's face. Anger mixed with shame. "I'm not a child."
The warrior finally did look at him then, one eye opening with a spark of irritation—and perhaps respect. "Then stop acting like one."
The words cut, but Kael's voice intervened before Aric could snap back. "He's right."
Aric's head snapped toward Kael. "So that's it? I'm weak, I'm a burden, I—"
Kael rose in one fluid motion, the sword now sheathed at his side. He moved closer until he stood over Aric, the firelight glinting off his crimson eyes. There was no malice in them, only a weight that pinned the boy in place.
"You're not weak because you dream of the dead," Kael said evenly. "You're weak if you let those dreams chain you."
Aric clenched his fists, nails biting into his palms. "You don't understand. You never look afraid. You never stumble. You—"
"I bleed," Kael interrupted, his voice sharp as a blade's edge. "I stumble. I've walked through fire so hot it seared the fear into me until there was nothing left but ash. Do not mistake silence for strength."
For a long heartbeat, the fire crackled, filling the heavy pause between them.
Aric swallowed hard, his anger cooling into something more dangerous—truth. "…Then how do I do it? How do I carry all of this without breaking?"
Kael's hand moved, resting briefly on the boy's shoulder. His grip was firm, grounding, almost fatherly.
"By not carrying it alone."
Seliora stirred fully awake now, her tired smile reaching across the flames. Darius exhaled like a man tired of sentiment, but even he did not speak further.
Aric stared at Kael, wide-eyed, the words burrowing into him deeper than any lecture could. His throat felt tight, but he nodded once, sharp and determined.
"…Then I'll keep walking," he whispered. "No matter the dreams. No matter the fear."
Kael released his shoulder. "Good. Because the path only grows darker from here."
The night settled again, heavy but calmer. The companions shifted into uneasy rest once more.
Aric lay back down, staring at the stars faintly visible through the veil of smoke above. His chest was still tight, the shadows still pressed close, but Kael's words lingered.
Not carrying it alone.
For the first time, the weight seemed—if not lighter—at least shared.
And for Aric, that was enough to close his eyes without thrashing.