THE WEIGHT OF THE FRAGMENT, THE WOUNDS OF SILENCE, AND THE FLAME OF THOSE WHO STILL WAIT
The sun was beginning its slow descent, painting the high forest leaves gold and tinting the trunks with a melancholic red. The atmosphere seemed calm… yet something fractured quietly within the camp.
Zyrion walked alone among the trees, silent, his silhouette wrapped in his dark cloak. His steps were firm, but something betrayed him: a slight stiffness in his shoulders, an involuntary tremor in his right hand.
Taliena was the first to notice, from afar as she gathered water from the small stream. She watched as Zyrion stopped before an ancient stone structure—a wall from some forgotten, abandoned encampment. And then she saw it…
He lifted his fist… and struck.
The first blow was dry.
The second was stronger.
The third… brought blood.
"Zyrion!" Taliena cried, running toward him."What are you doing?! Stop!"
Zyrion didn't even turn. He struck again. A chipped piece of stone fell to the ground, and his knuckles were now red, with tiny fragments embedded in the flesh.
"Zyrion… enough…" she said firmly, stopping a meter away from him.
Zyrion lowered his hand and slowly turned. He still wore the mask, but he didn't need to remove it—his hands spoke louder than his face. He tried to hide them behind his back.
"I'm fine," he muttered coldly.
Taliena narrowed her eyes, unbelieving.
"No. No you're not. No one destroys their own hands because they're fine."
Before she could say more, Caelithra emerged from the trees, her stride sharp as a blade in the wind. Her expression was like freshly carved ice—hard, controlled, imposing.
The moment she saw Zyrion's hands, her eyes flashed with contained fury.
"Taliena," she said without looking away from him, "go with the others. This is between him and me."
Taliena hesitated, looking at Zyrion with concern, but then nodded slowly and stepped away, glancing back more than once.
Caelithra remained alone with him. The silence between them grew thick.
"Again, Zyrion?" she finally said.
Zyrion didn't respond.
"Again you break yourself from the inside without uttering a single damn word? Again you destroy yourself in secret hoping no one will see? What do you expect to achieve? Redemption? Punishment? Forgetting?"
Zyrion lowered his head. His fists trembled.
"You wouldn't understand…"
"Try me!" she shouted, stepping closer."Just try for once! Talk to me!"
He lifted his head. For the first time, he removed the mask. His face was covered in sweat and dust, holding an expression so vulnerable, so broken, that Caelithra had never seen anything like it from him.
"I can't. I can't carry this. The fragment… this damn power is changing me. It's consuming me from the inside. I hear it. I feel it. It drags me toward something dark."
Caelithra took a deep breath and stepped closer until she stood directly in front of him.
"Then don't lock yourself away. Don't push us aside. Don't push me aside."
Zyrion lowered his gaze. Tears formed, but refused to fall.
"I'll fail all of you, Caelithra… I know I will."
"No. You fail us when you stay silent. You fail us when you pretend to be stronger than you are."
He said nothing. She closed the remaining distance and grabbed his hands. Zyrion tried to pull them away on reflex, but she held them tightly.
"Enough. If you're going to bleed, then at least let someone see it. Let someone heal it."
Caelithra guided him to sit on a large rock. She opened her bag, pulling out a clean cloth, bandages, and a small flask of purified water.
She cleaned his wounds slowly, with a tenderness that contrasted sharply with the harshness of her voice.
Zyrion barely breathed.
"I promised myself I wouldn't do this again," he whispered."I promised I wouldn't fall again."
"And yet you fell," she replied, soaking the bandage in water."But you're here. You're still here. And I won't let you go through this alone."
The bandages began wrapping around his hands. Her touch was firm, but warm. Zyrion closed his eyes.
Steps sounded. Velkran, Quindarion, Kyrahna, and Taliena had arrived. They watched the scene from a respectful distance.
"Do you think she'll make him talk?" Velkran murmured.
"She'll make him talk by force if she has to," Kyrahna replied.
Quindarion kept his eyes on Zyrion.
"What matters is that he's not alone anymore."
Caelithra glanced at the others. She didn't speak, but her eyes gave a clear message: "Wait. Don't interfere. Not yet."
Minutes later, Zyrion's hands were fully bandaged, resting on his knees. Caelithra sat beside him, silent.
"Thank you," Zyrion whispered.
"I hate when you do this to yourself," she replied, not looking at him."But I'm not leaving."
He looked at her—and for the first time… he smiled. A small smile, barely a flicker of light. But real.
"I know."
That night, the fire crackled in the camp, but no one dared break the silence.
Every eye was on Zyrion—and he… finally… looked back at them.
The camp was quiet, interrupted only by the crackling fire and the whisper of the wind through the trees. The bearers rested, each lost in their own thoughts and dreams.
Zyrion remained awake, sitting beside his bedroll, watching the flames dance. His bandaged hands lay on his knees, his mind drifting between memories and fears.
Taliena, also awake, approached silently and sat beside him.
"Can't sleep?" she asked softly.
Zyrion shook his head.
"My thoughts won't leave me alone."
Taliena looked at him with understanding and placed a hand on his shoulder.
"You know you can talk to me, right?"
Zyrion nodded slowly.
"I know. It's just that… I don't want to be a burden."
Taliena offered a gentle smile.
"You're not. No one expects you to shoulder everything alone."
Zyrion looked at her, and for a moment, his eyes showed a vulnerability rarely seen.
"Thank you, Taliena."
She lay down on her bedroll and, before closing her eyes, said:
"If you ever need a hug, just say so."
Zyrion hesitated but then lay down as well, staring at the tent's ceiling.
"Taliena…"
She opened her eyes, looking at him.
"Yes?"
"Can I… hug you?"
Taliena extended her arms with a smile.
"Of course."
Zyrion moved closer and embraced her gently, feeling a comforting warmth.
Both closed their eyes, and for the first time in a long while, Zyrion felt a moment of peace.
The sun began peeking over the horizon, painting the sky with soft oranges and pinks.
Zyrion awoke abruptly, an eerie sensation tightening his chest.
For a brief instant, his eyes turned completely white, and a fleeting vision crossed his mind: two figures wrapped in fire and lightning walking toward them.
He blinked, and his eyes returned to normal.
He sat up, breathing deeply, trying to understand what he had just experienced.
Hours later, while the group prepared to resume their journey, a powerful presence made itself known.
Two figures emerged from the forest: one surrounded by dancing flames, the other crackling with electric sparks.
"Who are they?" Kyrahna asked, gripping her weapon.
"Xalorian, bearer of fire," said the figure of flames.
"And Loryan, bearer of lightning," said the other.
"We have come in search of Zyrion."
The group tensed, ready for anything.
Zyrion stepped forward, gaze steady.
"I'm here. What do you want from me?"
Xalorian and Loryan exchanged a look before answering.
"Your fragment."
TO BE CONTINUED…