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Blood red. That was what the sunset painted his new bedchambers in, the light spilling through the gossamer curtains over the blankets onto the untouched mattress. To Callum, it didn’t feel like his room yet; spacious enough to fit half of the crownguard in it comfortably, yet cozy enough with its loveseat near the window, fireplace, and desk for his sketching. He wanted to go back to the smaller princes’ chambers he and Ezran had shared before…
But that wasn’t possible. His little brother was the king of Katolis now, therefore his place was in the king’s quarters. That huge room for such a young kid. It wasn’t fair for Callum to think of him that way, after how much growing up the both of them had done over the past few weeks. Still, he was going on fifteen and Ezarn was only ten. They were just kids. And now that he was home, now that he had flung his backpack onto the floor of this unfamiliar space but kept his sketchbook beside him— now that he could rest, the enormity of everything that had transpired was beginning to press down onto Callum. Like a boulder crushing him into the ground, crushing his very heart and soul deeper into his chest cavity until he found it difficult to draw breath.
Blood red. With hints of orange. Under different circumstances it would have been beautiful, reminding Callum of a flower’s petals. Or Pyrrah’s majestic scales. Or a certain Moonshadow elf’s lips stained with moonberry juice. He clung to that image in particular as he tried to inhale deeply through his nose and exhale through his mouth. But her lips faded from his mind’s eye as quickly as they had appeared, and now all he saw was blood.
Blood staining the stone as he raced down the steps of this very tower to reach his brother, tripping over corpses in his wake. Traces of blood the servants had missed when cleaning the horrid scene crusting into the walls of the very room Ezran occupied now. The room his stepfather was murdered in. Murdered by Runaan, the guardian of the girl he loved. He hadn’t thought about it, hadn’t let himself allow any of it to sink in. Until now.
It was mere steps away. Flanked by guards. The room where King Harrow had fallen and Callum’s entire world changed forever. Some of it for the better: Zym, the Dragon Prince, was alive and home safe, the human kingdoms and Xadia weren’t immediate mortal enemies for the time being, Ezran was in the beginning stages of ushering in a reign of peace, Callum himself was a budding mage— and even in love. But some of it was for the worse. Callum and Ezran had come home orphans. Alone. With no family living in the castle with them. And the realization hit Callum with the force of his own Fulminus spell, piercing the core of his very being.
It was impossible to breathe. The blood red sunlight was sinking behind purple clouds. And Callum didn’t even hear his door open, nor the rambling voice of his new roommate.
“Hey, can you tell Opeli that your human soaps are stale?” Rayla called as she headed right for the wall mirror, toweling her silver hair off. “I can have some new ones brought over from Xadia, I just need to write to Ethari.” She suddenly gasped excitedly as she went behind the screen to change from her robe into her nightclothes. “Oh just you wait until you smell the ones from the Silvergrove— they’re the most amazin’ sage, pine, and lavender scents that’ve ever tickled your nose. It’s like you’re actually there! And you’ll be smellin’ sweet for at least a week, trust me.”
Rayla stepped out from behind the screen, wearing an oversized pair of Callum’s pajamas. “Mmm, speakin’ of smells… these smell like you,” she grinned, a light blush dusting her cheeks as she sniffed her collar. “So, what should we do tomorrow? Soren wants to challenge me to duel first thing in the mornin’. But after I wipe the floor with him, I’m all yours. I was thinkin’ we could walk around the market for a bit, then maybe I’d let you show me some of those other places you drew in your sketchbook. Like the lake or that flower meadow…” She trailed off when she realized that she had not received a single response nor interjection to a word she had spoken.
“Callum?” He didn’t move, staring at the door with large wet eyes that seldom blinked, his hands quivering in his lap. “Callum, did you hear me?”
Still nothing. Rayla made two great strides across the room to get to the bed, and now she could see the sweat trickling down from his hairline, his ghost-white face causing the greenish tinge in his cheeks to stand out, and the quick almost erratic way his chest rose and fell. “What’s wrong?” she blurted out without thinking. You idiot, he’s not responding. Something similar to this had happened before, when Callum had fallen into a coma after using dark magic. But he was awake, upright, and didn’t seem to be in as dangerous of a state as he had been then. At least she hoped not.
“Callum,” she repeated softly, keeping her voice just above a whisper, her timber as soothing and even as she was able to convey despite her heart attempting to pound down the walls of her ribcage. What was going on? What if she couldn’t bring him back? Stop it, Rayla— you will. You have to. “Callum it’s me, I’m right here.”
That seemed to at least trigger something. Callum’s hand scrambled to his chest and clutched at it, his breaths starting to wheeze slightly from his lungs, and Rayla leapt up quickly to move the wastebasket by his desk closer to him if his sickly pallid face was any indicator of his physical state. What else? She spied a silver pitcher of water and cup by the window and rushed over to fill it, setting it beside him on his nightstand once he was ready for it. He still wouldn’t speak, but his previously numb face was now twisting into immense discomfort, the hand gripping his chest trembling harder as his nails dug into the fabric of his tunic.
Rayla couldn’t bear it. She wanted nothing more than to reach out and hold him, squeeze him tight until every ounce of his pain was gone, but she was sure any form of contact right now would only make things worse. She racked her brains, trying to think of anything else she could do for him until this passed, and came up empty. This was something he needed to work through on his own. Swallowing hard, she felt tears prick at her eyes. “Do you want me to leave?”
Callum’s breath seized, his face crumpling, his entire body caving in on itself, fervently shaking his head back and forth as if she had made the most torturous suggestion imaginable. “Stay,” he finally rasped out between gasps for air, “Stay.”
“Okay— okay, I’m gonna take your hand now, alright?” For once Rayla was glad he wasn’t looking at her and the fear in her eyes. Sliding her hand over his free one in his lap, she waited for him to flinch away from her so she would know for sure that she had made a terrible mistake. Instead, his fingers curled into hers, slick with sweat and latched rigidly. Suddenly it didn’t matter how scared Rayla was. Callum was far more frightened, and because of that she was determined to see him through this.
“I’ve got you,” Rayla promised, “Listen to my voice, Callum.” He shut his eyes, sending thick tears streaming down his cheeks.
“It hurts…”
“Breathe— it’s gonna be okay,” she hushed, cupping his hand between both of hers, rubbing her thumb along his knuckles. “You’re here… you’re safe. I love you. I’ll always love you…” Over and over she spoke these words of comfort until after what seemed like utter ages, his breathing slowed and returned to an even pace, his face righting itself from its drawn haggardness and some semblance of color returning to his streaked cheeks.
“Rayla,” he whispered, keeping his head bowed but at last turning it in her direction. “I…”
“Don’t,” she shook her head, refusing to allow him to feel ashamed or embarrassed for even one moment. “You’re back and that’s what matters. Just keep breathin’, love.” Her cheeks flushed a bit, unsure from where that endearment had slipped out, yet she liked the way it sounded on her tongue as her eyes gazed upon the boy she held so dear. “Do you feel sick?”
“Not… not so much anymore,” Callum panted, rubbing at his stomach as if trying to calm it. No, he didn’t look too ill now, Rayla observed. But his olive green eyes still wouldn’t meet hers. They were dull, far away, and releasing gentle tears down his face that dripped to stain the red scarf around his neck. It shattered Rayla’s heart— what on earth could have caused him anguish like this?
“Callum… do you want a hug?”
He drew a shuddering breath, “Please.” Shifting forward, Callum nestled himself into her chest as Rayla tucked him safely and securely within her arms. For a moment her heart lurched when she felt his breathing grow irregular again, until she realized he was sobbing, her shirt growing wet from his tears, and she held him steadfastly without a word until he had seemingly wrung himself dry.
“You don’t have to talk about it,” she assured him nearly a half hour later, the twilight in the room dwindling into evening. “For once, Callum. Don’t force yourself to.”
“I…” His heart still felt heavy. Even with the assurance of Rayla beside him, their hands entwined firmly, it still felt as if the four chamber walls were about to come crashing down on him. “I can’t handle it. I’m not ready.”
“Not ready for what?” Why did you do that? Rayla’s brain screamed. But her heart had spoken before her mind could stop it. “Sorry— sorry, don’t listen to me. Don’t answer that—”
“Rayla, it’s okay,” Callum said, squeezing her hand. “Listen… can you do me a favor and keep this between us? I don’t want Ezran to know, especially after the promise I made to him.”
“Callum…” She was sure that anything that was bothering him this badly, Ezran had the right to know about. And while she and Callum were “a thing”, as he had coined them, it would never hold a candle to the bond he shared with his beloved little brother.
“Rayla, please,” he begged her, pressing the heel of his hand to his forehead as it throbbed.
“Okay, I promise.” He felt her tenderly press her lips into the top of his head, her fingers stroking through his hair. “I promise, Callum.”
“I—” He struggled for breath almost as much as he struggled for words, Rayla once more reminding him to breathe before his mind and tongue finally caught up with each other. “I thought I was ready to come back here. To come home. But the truth is… the last time I was here…”
And suddenly, it all hit Rayla like an avalanche. The last time he was here, he had lost everything. Oh Callum…
“It’s just down the corridor,” he went on, staring at their joined hands and idly stroking her four fingers neatly laced between his five. “My stepdad’s old chambers. I saw the attack, Rayla. I could barely see the assassins ‘cause of the full moon but— but I could feel them all around me.”
Rayla closed her eyes and turned away. Yes, she had lost her comrades. She had lost Runaan, which pushed the tears back to the surface and made them impossible to swallow back down. Now that Zym was home, now that their mission was fulfilled, she could truly reflect on her choices and the consequences that fateful night. And the fact that she had not done more to stop the endless cycle of violence ate away at her conscience piece by piece each day.
“There wasn’t enough time. I had to choose. Either go with you and Ezran, or try and protect Harr— Dad.” Callum’s lip trembled, “I chose my brother. I chose you. If— if I could go back in time, I’d still pick the same. And most of me knows that I did the right thing, but there’s still this part of me that wishes I could’ve stayed. Fought beside Soren and maybe… just maybe… saved Dad.”
He waited for a reaction from Rayla, knowing full well what the result of saving Harrow would have meant for Runaan. Even entertaining this thought should have sent her into a flying rage at him. He was shocked when she remained silent, so silent that at last he stole a glance at her.
“Didn’t you hear me?”
“I heard you.” Tears poured down her cheeks, yet not an ounce of anger or resentment emanated from her. He didn’t understand.
“Rayla…”
“I miss Runaan more than you’ll ever know,” she sniffled, wiping her nose with the back of her hand. “But he also caused you and Ezran pain. I… I can’t forgive him for that, Callum.”
“And my stepdad did some horrible things. Committed crimes against Xadia that Ezran has to pick up the pieces of now. How he can even sleep in that room—” Callum’s strangled voice broke off, using his scarf to scrub at his face. “But he was still my dad, Rayla.”
“I know.” She could feel him tensing up again, his shoulders shaking as she wrapped her arms gingerly around him in case he wrenched out of her grasp.
“He loved me so much. And I feel like I never showed him how— how much I loved him too…” Burrowing against her, he hid his face in her shoulder as another bout of weeping overtook him, hearing Rayla’s gentle hushing in his ear once more.
“You protected Zym and brought him back to his mother,” she said, stroking his hair rhythmically. “You kept Ezran safe, even from me. Everythin’ you do— everythin’ you’ve ever done, Callum— you do it out of love. Even when you want to hate those who have wronged you, even when it hurts so badly and you wish you could go back and change things, you chose a path of love because that’s who you are.” Rayla gave him a light kiss on the side of his head, “That’s my best friend… the one I fell in love with. I know what’s in your heart, even when you can’t always see it. And even though I never knew your stepfather, I have a feelin’ he could as well.”
His sobs grew deeper, more cleansing, and she clutched him closer to her and rocked him in place, letting herself become the safe haven he needed in that moment. She wasn’t sure if she had overstepped, spilling her heart out like that. All she knew was that Callum didn’t deserve to feel the piercing pain of lacking closure. A feeling she knew all too well; a feeling she had swallowed down every day since the battle of the Storm Spire until it nestled into a nasty pit in the middle of her stomach. She prayed to the moon every night that it would leave her, that she could love Callum freely without this looming dread hanging over her. So far, it had been in vain.
The least she could do was ensure that he was content.
“Thank you,” he rasped out through a stuffed up nose a while later, peeling his damp face from her shoulder and drying it on his sleeve. “Thank you, Rayla.” Gazing up into her violet eyes, glistening in the moonlight, he brushed a thumb over one of her own tear-streaked cheeks. “Since when did you get so good at ‘big feelings time’?”
Rayla shrugged, “I had a really good teacher.” After getting him some water and her asking several more times if he was okay, to which he replied that he would be now, they snuggled together under Callum’s covers with their heads resting against each other.
“This is us at the Banther Lodge when it’s actually winter,” he pointed out in his sketchbook, where he had drawn King Harrow, himself and Ezran sledding fast and steep down a hill. “My stepdad always took us down the steepest slopes— he was kind of a daredevil.”
“No wonder you and Ez loved those rapids so much,” Rayla chuckled, nudging her boyfriend playfully, then stopped. Maybe teasing wasn’t the right thing to do while he was still recovering from his fit of terror. She switched to a kiss on his forehead, to which he nuzzled into her touch.
“I can’t wait to take you there this winter. You’ll like the river a lot better when it’s frozen solid and we can skate on it.”
“You ice skate?” Rayla’s eyes lit up, and Callum nodded. “Runaan and Ethari taught me when I was wee, but… I never had any friends to skate with.”
“Well, now you’ll have a partner,” he assured her, linking his fingers between hers as he flipped through the pages to find the next sketch of his stepdad. He had thought revisiting these memories would be painful, and while there was an ache in his heart, it didn’t hurt. It was almost soft and comforting.
“Aww, this looks sweet,” Rayla said, pointing to a drawing of King Harrow and Callum sitting on a dock dipping their feet in the water.
“Yeah, this is at that lake I said I wanted to take you to. The one that has the flower meadow I think you’ll love. It’s…” He blushed, “Well, I think it’s romantic.”
“If you say it is, I believe you.” She laid her hand over his arm, smiling down at the sketch. “You both look so happy.”
“My stepdad always made sure we had a few afternoons to spend together during the week. He’d just ask me what was going on and if there was anything I needed to get off my chest. Usually I said ‘nothing’.” Callum had gone quiet again, and Rayla shifted her arm so it rested around his shoulders. “Now I wish I’d said more ‘somethings’.”
“Callum,” she said softly, watching him involuntarily turn the pages backwards until he landed on what looked like an older sketch of his family judging by the yellowed corners of the parchment. There stood both of his parents, King Harrow and Queen Sarai, and Callum gently ran his fingers over their images.
“You know my stepdad proposed to my mom at that flower meadow…” His voice broke.
“We don’t have to go there,” Rayla shook her head hastily, rubbing his back as Callum covered his eyes with his hand and took several shaking breaths. “We won’t. I don’t care if it’s the most romantic spot on the continent— the last thing I wanna do is cause you pain, Callum.”
He swallowed hard, squeezing her hand in a near death grip until his pounding heartbeat returned to a regular rhythm. Callum truly didn’t know what he would have done tonight without Rayla here, and he thanked every source in the primal arcanum for bringing her into his life. His chaotic, messy life.
“Hey,” he whispered, glancing up at her with watering emerald eyes. “There is somewhere I’d like to go tomorrow, if you don’t mind.”
“Where’s that?”
“The Valley of Graves.” He flipped a few pages forward, where he had drawn his mother atop her steed and carrying her spear, her other arm downward as if reaching for someone. “It’s where my mother’s statue and tomb are. And— and Opeli said my stepfather’s pyre was close by.” He sniffled, wiping his nose on the back of his hand, “My last goodbye to him was stolen from me by Viren.”
Rayla gritted her teeth. Had there been no low to which that monster wouldn’t stoop?
“But… I don’t want to go there alone. I— I don’t think I could, and Ezran has a full day tomorrow. So…” Callum turned himself towards her imploringly, “Would you— I mean, would you like to meet my parents?”
“I’d love to, Callum,” Rayla breathed out, “I’d be honored. But are you sure you’re ready?”
He leaned forward, kissing her briefly on the lips. “As long as you’re with me, yeah. I’ll be ready.” Finally, he smiled. “And don’t worry. They’re gonna love you.”