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Chapter Text

When the letter arrived, Callum allowed himself to breathe a breath of relief before he let the gnawing pit of dread in the bottom of his stomach spread to his chest. 

  It had only taken the letter a day to arrive, delivered fastly and with urgency. Since first glancing the smoke to the west, he had been ready to march back to Katolis himself. Rayla practically had to wrangle him to the ground, telling him that staying put was the best option. If they needed to send word, they would send a crow over. 

  You don’t need to rush into danger headfirst, Callum, Rayla had said. 

  Callum wanted to argue that that’s what they’ve literally been doing for the last several weeks. Or since he’s met her, for that matter. 

   And, so, they stayed at the Moon Nexus for one painstakingly long and boring day. It seemed to drag on, the sun trailing across the sky like a lazy caterpillar. He tried to draw in his sketchbook, but his mind wandered and he drummed his fingers insistently along the page until Rayla gave him a look. He tried again, but ended up breaking his pencil twice and throwing it down in frustration. He paced the grounds. He tried to sleep, but failed miserably. His body ached, his mind going a mile a minute. 

  Nausea twisted in his gut. Worry worked in his anxiety-riddled brain. He was worried for Katolis, the only home he had ever known. How bad was the damage? How many people were hurt— or worse, killed?

  He had faith in his people, in the army that had protected the kingdom for years, but he still worried. He knew some of the High Council was still there— Soren, Opeli, Barius. He knew they would do whatever they could to get people to safety, and he hoped they were okay. 

  Thankfully, he knew Ezran had been in Lux Aurea, or what was left of it, for their aunt’s wedding, but he knew he had inevitably gotten the news. Was he still in Lux Aurea? Or was he on his way back? He wanted to be there for him. He wondered how he was holding up. 

  Another twinge of guilt flashed in his chest. His brother was just a kid. He didn’t deserve to have the weight of the world at his shoulders, the whole ocean at his door. 

  Callum beared another heavy sigh. He was sitting on the edge of the step, watching the sun lower itself in the sky. The sky was painted in soft hues of pink and lilac, a stark contrast to the violent shades of red and orange that marked the westwards skies above Katolis, to which he had his back turned. He couldn’t bear the sight just yet. 

  He could hardly believe it. 

  The hint of smoke was lingering in the air. If you squinted, you could still see the tendrils of smoke drifting lazily into the sky like coils ready to spring. Surely, everyone had evacuated by now, but the sight of it, the thought of it, was still alarming. 

  It had almost been a full day since he had gotten the first, terrifying look for the waves of smoke rising over the hills and valleys that led back to Katolis, back home. If they didn’t hear back by tomorrow morning, Rayla had agreed they would start their trek back tomorrow. They needed to assess the damage, help as much as they could, get in contact with Ez. 

  It isn’t fair, he thought, a constant string of thought replaying over and over in his head. 

  None of it is. 

 ~

The letter arrived just before sundown. 

  It was gripped tightly in the talons of a dark crow, who left just as quickly as it came, in a flurry of squawks and sleek feathers. As he grabbed the rolled-up parchment that bore the seal of the king from the claws of the messenger, he looked into the bird’s dark, beady eyes. He wondered if it knew the importance of the cargo it carried, the impending doom in the contents of this letter. 

  Then the crow flapped its wings, beginning to take off, and Callum was met with a mouthful of feathers. Spitting the downy material onto the ground, he no longer wished to ponder avian intelligence. 

  He watched the messenger fly away, soaring into the sky, rustled by a light breeze that still brought the hints of charred stone and smoky wood from the west. He couldn’t help but wish that he was that free, that he could fly away from all his problems. He watched the bird until it flew out of sight, soon a dark dot on the horizon. 

  He looked down at the paper clutched in his hand. He hadn’t even realized he was holding it so tightly. His heart pounded on in his chest. The blood roared in his ears. One part of him wanted to rip the paper open, to dive into it, and the other part wanted to cling to the bliss of ignorance just a little longer. 

  Once he read this letter, that was it. He would have to accept this tragedy, this devastation. 

  Taking a deep breath, he began to peel away the seal. The stamp was barely broken when he was aware of light footsteps coming from behind him. He knew it was her before he saw her. With years of assassin training, Rayla moved incredibly light on her feet. Over the years, Callum had gotten better at detecting her. 

  Looking over his shoulder, he saw Rayla edging her way over to him, a nervous look on her face. She had been anxiously waiting for this letter just as much as him. She came up next to him, wringing her hands. 

  “Is that it?” She asked slowly, quietly. “Is that the letter?”

  Wordlessly, Callum nodded. Rayla moved to place a hand on Callum’s shoulder, a pillar of silent support. He felt her squeeze it as he opened it and unrolled the paper. He quickly recognized Soren’s handwriting, though it was smudged and written hastily, as if he were shaking. His eyes flitted back and forth as he poured over the words, absorbing the information with both shock and disbelief. 

  The paragraphs detailed the mass destruction— the loss, the damage, the injured. They had managed to get mostly everyone out, but there was a toll. Many had given up their lives to save others fleeing to safety, and many others would still succumb to their injuries later on. They were setting up refugee camps outside the capital city, and many were traveling further up the kingdom to stay with family in places that hadn’t been targeted. 

  His breath caught in his throat as he got to the last paragraph. Ezran was still in Lux Aurea with Corvus and Aunt Amaya, who was already offering a place to stay for displaced families. Duren also had offered to open its borders to people in need. 

  The sentiment warmed his heart— elves and human kingdoms alike willing to help the victims of a recent attack— but there was still a boulder sitting on his chest. It was hard to breathe. 

  He knew that this mission was important, that stopping Aaravos was crucial, but the guilt was eating him alive. He should have been there. He could’ve helped, could’ve stopped it. He needed to be there for his little brother, for his people. He was still their prince, their High Mage. 

  As soon as he was done reading, he let out a soft gasp. The paper crumpled at the edges as his fingers gripped it tightly. Rayla, trying to read it from over his shoulder, furrowed her brow, looking confused and concerned. 

  “Is everyone okay?” She asked immediately. “Do we head back? Or do we stay here? Are they sending someone to meet us?”

  Not finding the right words, he simply shook his head. Rayla only looked more confused, the crinkle in her brow dipping the way he loved. Emotion bubbled up in his chest, in his throat. He stood there, staring at her, as it hit him. 

  The realization hit him like a tidal wave. 

  His home was destroyed. 

  He was half aware of Rayla’s voice, but he felt like he was underwater, being swept under. He tried to swim, but he was helpless to stop it. He was drowning. 

  “—Callum—”

  A hand on his arm, gripping it. Someone shaking him. 

  “What’s wrong? What—”

  He curled his fists into balls. The letter fell to his feet, crumpled and forgotten. Rayla’s face came back into view, his vision blurred on the edges by tears. She looked so concerned, so frightened. 

  It broke his heart all over again. 

  She stood right in front of him, gripping his shoulders, grounding him. “Callum,” she said. “What is it?”

  He couldn’t find the right words. The lump in his throat throbbed. The dam broke. 

  Rayla held him as he cried. 

~

The journey to Lux Aurea was a two day ride. It was usually longer, but Callum insisted they get there as fast as they could. 

  They arrived in the late morning, when the city of tents was already awake and buzzing with a flurry of activities. Guards patrolled in groups, clutching swords and blades. Parents sat in clusters while their children ran and played. Women hung laundry to dry and men sharpened their blades. In the distance, dogs barked and horses whinnied. 

  When they arrived at the edge of camp, a trio of guards immediately took notice as they rode up, kicking up dust under the hooves of their galloping steeds. Callum pulled back the reins and eased into a sitting trot, then a walk. He ignored the pain in his bottom as he rubbed uncomfortably against the saddle. He was definitely going to regret this tomorrow. 

  His horse let out a long sigh, shaking out her neck and mane. He reached forward and gave her a pat on the neck. She had been a good companion on their ride to Lux Aurea— an older mare with a white coat peppered with black speckles and a soft muzzle. Him and Rayla came to a stop, dismounted, and noticed the guards from earlier coming towards them. They looked at each other, then continued forward. 

  They met with a Sunfire elf dressed in golden armor. She had long braids and an exasperated expression. “Prince Callum,” she said, looking at him, her accent thick. 

  He only nodded. “That’s me.”

  Her gaze flitted to Rayla. “Lady Rayla.”

  “Oh,” Rayla replied. “Just Rayla is fine. I’m not..” she scratched her neck self consciously. “I’m not royalty or anything.”

  The guard blinked. “Right,” she said. “The queens have been expecting you. Follow me.” 

  The other two guards rushed forward to take their horses and lead them away. They would be hungry and thirsty after that long ride. Callum watched them be led away, then turned and followed the elf further into the camp, staying close to Rayla. 

  They walked past rows and rows of tents and people milling around, doing things of their everyday lives. They got a few curious glances as they passed. A child tugged on her mother’s dress, pointing to Rayla, who offered the child a tentative smile. All around them, elves and humans went about their day. 

  It was almost strange, seeing them all together. But it also gave him hope for the future— a future of humans, elves, and dragons living in peace, a future they were working towards. The future he knew Ezran wanted so desperately. 

  Absentmindedly, his hand found Rayla’s as they walked, intertwining their fingers together. It made him feel just a little better. 

  They headed deeper into the camp, towards the middle. As they went, the tents became larger and more grand, homes to generals and council members. Finally, they reached the heart of the camp, arriving outside the largest tent, the one with two guards stationed outside. They nodded at the guard ahead of them, letting them pass. Callum ducked into the tent after Rayla, holding open the flap for her. 

  It was cooler in here, and he was grateful for the shade. It was hotter here than he was used to in Katolis. At the thought of Katolis, a pang of hurt flashed through his chest, his heart. 

  The guard nodded, then left them, slipping back through the crack in the flaps as quickly as she came. Sunlight spilled into the space, and Callum blinked, squinting to see. He turned back to the sound of footsteps and the familiar clank of armor—

  Only to be crushed into a giant bear hug. He wheezed, lungs constricting, as he was lifted off the floor. He was squeezed once, then dropped back onto the floor like a ragdoll. He took a deep breath, rubbing at a tender spot on his abdomen and wincing. “Yeah, yeah, ‘is fine,” he hissed through clenched teeth. “I didn’t really need that rib.”

  His aunt put him down, moving away from him to start signing. Gren came from behind her, translating. “I’m so glad you’re safe,” he said, though Callum could already guess to what his aunt was saying. 

  Amaya’s gaze traveled to Rayla as she continued. “You and your friend,” Gren said. 

  Callum’s gaze went to Rayla, who stiffened and smiled shyly. Callum ran a hand through his hair, chuckling. “Good to see you too, Aunt Amaya,” he said. “Everything good here?”

  Good enough, she signed back. 

  He raised his eyebrows. What did that mean? He was about to ask about his brother, the reason he came, when another person spoke, followed by the shifting of more armor. 

  “Why is it when you two show up,” a familiar voice spoke. “The world always seemed to be ending?” 

  Callum looked at Rayla, then peered behind his aunt. Queen Janai strode forward, coming to stand next to her wife. 

  Rayla shrugged nonchalantly in response. “I was just wondering the same thing.”

  Callum smiled, then leaned forward in an awkward half bow. “Queen Janai,” he managed. “Nice to see you again.”

  She raised a brow. “You mean when you directly went behind my back and plotted to sneak out to the place I forbid you from going?”

  His smile tightened, drooping in the corners. “Um, yes?”

  The queen only smirked. “I kid. And just Janai is fine. We are family now, after all,” she said, brushing arms with Amaya, who smiled softly. 

  Callum held back his sigh of relief. “Right. Yeah.” He scratched his head. “Sorry I missed your wedding. I was kinda busy trying to save the world—“

  “We,” Rayla corrected, leaning onto Callum. “Were busy saving the world.” 

  Callum flushed. “Yes. We were.”

  The Sunfire queen chuckled. “I’m glad to see you two are alright,” she replied. “Safe travels, I assume?”

  “Besides being super saddle sore,” Callum interjected, then cleared his throat. “Yes. Safe travels.” 

  He realized then Rayla was still leaning on him, one arm bent around his shoulder, pulling him closer. Was his face red? Was it suddenly hot in here? 

  He looked up to catch his aunt’s eye, a smirk playing on her lips. Really? She signed. You two?

  He blinked. Long story. Tell you later. 

  Promise? 

  Promise. 

  Rayla raised an eyebrow, trying to make sense of their conversation, when the tent flaps rustled and a smaller figure walked in, flanked by two guards: a teenage girl with sandy hair and amber eyes. Queen Aanya of Duren. She had gotten taller since the last time he had seen her. 

  Instinctively, Callum went to bow, Rayla following suit. “Queen Aanya,” he said as politely as he could muster.

  Queen Aanya was one of the other rulers he could tolerate the most. She had proven to be a fair and just ruler, despite her young age. Ever since she had aided them at the Battle of the Storm Spire, Duren had been their strongest ally and partner in trade. He didn’t know her as well as Ezran did, but he respected the young queen. 

  “Prince Callum,” she replied. She dipped her head at him, then held out her hand in a stop motion. “Please. No need to bow. We’re all equals here.”

  Callum stood up straight, clearing his throat. “Right, right.”

  The young queen raised one eyebrow, studying him quizzically. “You’re here to see your brother, aren’t you?”

  That heavy feeling settled in his chest again. He nodded wordlessly. Rayla answered for him, fingers brushing his in a show of silent support. “Yes,” she supplied. “We’re here to see Ezran.” 

  An uncomfortable silence seemed to fall over the room at the mention of the young, distraught king. Gren looked away. Amaya grimaced. Janai slipped an arm around her wife’s waist. 

  Aanya nodded, gaze downcast. “I just got back from seeing him actually.” 

  Callum jerked, intrigued. “How is he holding up?” 

  Janai shook her head, answering for Aanya, who hung her head. “Not well. He won’t eat much, won’t talk much either.” 

  He skipped breakfast, Amaya signed animatedly, visibly frustrated. You know how I feel about that!

  Janai frowned, placing a hand on her wife’s shoulder, said wife now crossing her arms. She turned back to Callum. “He’s staying in a tent not far from here. He hasn’t left it since this morning.” She frowned deeper. “He hadn’t really been himself since Karim’s army showed up.” 

  “Well, yeah, you can’t blame the guy— wait, did you say army?” Callum sputtered. 

  Janai nodded while Amaya signed something insulting Karim. Gren coughed, choosing not to translate. “My idiot brother showed up with an army,” she explained. She intertwined her hand with Amaya’s. “It’s fine now though. We took care of it.”

  “Oh?” Callum said, voice rising. 

  Rayla whistled. “Musta’ been one hell of a reception.” 

  The joke fell flat. Aanya cleared her throat and stepped closer to Callum. “I can take you to him,” she offered. “If you’d like.”

  “Yes,” Callum replied instantly, almost immediately falling in step behind the younger girl. He looked behind him to see Rayla hanging behind, looking unsure. 

  “Rayla,” he called. “Come on.”

   Rayla pushed a strand of her hair out of the way. “Are you sure? Ezran might want to see family only right now. I—“

  “You are family,” he insisted, grabbing her by the arm and yanking her out of the tent. “Now, come on.”

  “OW! Callum, my arm! I almost lost it once, mind you, and now I’d like to keep it!”

  “Sorry!”

~

It was a two minute walk to where Ezran was staying— a tent smaller than the queens’, but just as fancy, probably reserved for important guests. Aanya led them to the front, then hung back, leaving them to trail inside. 

  “He hasn’t talked much,” Aanya warned. “At least not to me. I bring him meals, but he won’t say much.” She blinked up at Callum, looking hopeful. “But I’m sure seeing you will cheer him up.”

  Callum nodded. “I hope. Thank you, Queen Aanya.” 

  She dipped her head and left, the guards that had been tailing them following after her. They watched her go, disappearing into the crowd of the resident elves and humans. Callum turned back to the entrance of the tent, taking a deep breath. Rayla took his hand in hers, squeezing it. 

  He sent her a grateful but shaky smile. 

  He entered his brother’s tent, preparing for the worst. 

Chapter Text

Ezran was drowning in an ocean of dark maroon covers. Well, figuratively. 

  As he and Rayla made their way further into the tent, he took note of their surroundings. The quarters were nice, but modest. In the middle was the giant bed, the one his brother was currently laying in, curled up in a ball, oblivious to the world around him. 

  To the side of the bed was a hanging lantern, used as the main light source, a dressing screen, and a table with two chairs. He noticed the half-eaten meal abandoned on the tabletop. It had been left out so long a lone fly was starting to swarm it.

  Frowning, Callum leaned over to swat the bug away from the food. With his luck, he misstepped, tripping over Rayla’s foot. With a loud, painful bang, his hip connected with the table, causing the nearest chair to overturn. It fell to the floor with a resounding thud. 

  Rayla, wide eyed, reached out to steady him, wrapping an arm around his waist, but it was too late. Her attempt was in vain. Callum winced as it hit the floor, his hip bone throbbing dully. 

  The damage was already done. Startled, Ezran jumped, the covers rippling as he pushed them off. He sat up fastly, his sky blue eyes wide with surprise. His hair, pulled back as it usually was, was messy, ruffled by the pillows. His crown was crooked atop his head. He squinted at the two blurry figures in front of him, eyes bleary from sleep. 

  “Callum?” He said incredulously. His gaze slowly trailed to Rayla, who was still supporting Callum by the waist. “Rayla?” 

  “Hi, Ez,” Rayla replied. 

  “Ezran,” he said, exasperated. “Hey.”

  Ezran sat up further, bringing his knees up to his chest. His clothes were wrinkled and creased. He rubbed his eyes. He blinked once, then twice, as if he thought the two of them were an illusion, or he was still dreaming. 

  Slowly, the confusion left his face, overcome by pure relief. Slowly, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and started to get up. Rayla’s grip loosened on Callum, who had forgot she was still holding him, all his attention focused on his brother. 

  He was barely standing by the time he was aware he was being embraced by his brother, with Rayla quickly following suit. He was nearly lifted off the ground as his brother hugged him tight, squeezing him. The wind was knocked out of his lungs and he rocked on his feet, nearly falling back onto the bed.  Then they were all speaking over each other, a flurry of hugs and squeezes and are you okay? from Callum and Rayla’s high, accented voice telling him she swore they were never gonna leave him again. 

  Their voices blended together, overlaying one another. “You guys!” Ezran cried, his chin tucked in the crook of Rayla’s shoulder, the side of his face squished against Callum’s chest. 

  “Ez,” Callum exclaimed. “Are you okay?!”

  “We heard everything,” Rayla said. “We came as soon as we could!” 

  “I’m fine!” Ezran yelped as Rayla pulled away. She began to lift up his arm, his chin, as if inspecting him for injuries. “I’m fine!” Rayla dropped his arm, satisfied. It fell limply back to his side. “Well, physically,” he added bitterly. 

  Callum caught onto it, pulling away, his hands on his brother’s shoulders. “And mentally?” He prompted his little brother. “How are you doing mentally?” 

  Ezran crossed his arms and slumped back onto the bed, not answering Callum. Him and Rayla exchanged concerned glances, then moved to sit on either side of Ezran, perched on the edge of the bed. Immediately, Rayla reached over, squeezing Ezran’s knee. “We’re so glad you’re okay,” she said, offering him a small smile. 

  “Glad you’re okay too,” Ezran replied, but his tone was monotone, robotic. He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. 

  “Yeah,” Callum cut in. “When I first saw the smoke, I forgot you were in Lux Aurea for a minute. I.. I thought I almost lost you.”

  He ran a hand over his neck. The mood in the room sank significantly. They all looked away. Rayla picked at a thread on her sleeve. Ezran stared blankly down at his boots, abandoned at the foot of the bed. 

  Callum cleared his throat, attempting to break the awkward silence. “So,” he said. “How are things here?”

  Ezran shook his head. “Not that great. I mean, I’m happy about the wedding, but then there was the battle and.. Aunt Janai and Aunt Amaya won, but there were still wounded..” He shook his head again. “After receiving word of what happened, I couldn’t walk past the healer’s tent without thinking of Katolis, of all the wounded back there.” 

  “Oh, Ez,” Rayla sighed, looking like she was debating reaching out to him or not. 

  Ez buried his head in knees, taking a shallow breath. Rayla and Callum exchanged concerned glances. Rayla shook him by the shoulder, gently. 

  “Ez?” Rayla poked softly. 

  No answer. 

  “Ez—” Callum began. 

  “I should’ve been there,” Ezran said, abruptly cutting him off. “I’m their king. It’s my job to lead them, to protect them. They look to me.” He sniffled, wiping his eyes in the crook of his arm. “I swore I would be a good king. I would be fair. I would be different. Now the kingdom is in ruins, and people are hurt, and I should’ve been there. I could’ve helped.”

  Callum blinked down at his brother in shock. “It’s not your fault, Ez. If you had been there or not, it would’ve still happened. People would still get hurt. It’s.. it’s not fair, but it’s what happened, and what matters now is how we deal with it, how we move forward.” 

  “We’re glad you weren’t there, Ez,” Rayla said from his other side, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. “You could’ve been hurt.”

  Ezran turned to look at her, shaking, barely concealed rage within his eyes. Rage at the situation, not at Rayla, Callum knew that, but he watched his brother speak through clenched teeth in dismay. “That’s besides the point! I wasn’t there, and people still got hurt!” 

  “Ez,” Callum warned. “You couldn’t have stopped it, even if you tried. You can’t take on an Archdragon all by yourself.”

  “Why not?” Ezran cried, his voice getting higher. “We traveled across the world. We saved the Prince. We forged an alliance with the Queen. We’ve saved dragons before. I’ve talked to Archdragons before. We fought so hard for peace, and it’s collapsing around us. Again.” 

  He closed his eyes, clenching and unclenching his fists at his sides. “I should’ve been there. I should’ve tried,” He looked down at his whole hands, which were shaking. “What good am I, are my abilities, if I can’t even use them right? What kind of a leader am I if I can’t protect my kingdom, my people?”

  “Ez,” Rayla said gently, trying to comfort him. She placed a hand on his knee, but he jerked away. 

  “They’re suffering,” He exclaimed. “And I’m halfway across the world, sitting here like.. like some coward.” 

  Something twisted in Callum’s chest as he heard Ezran’s words, hearing him talk about himself like this. It was a reminder how much was up to him, all the burdens he carried. Duties to the crown and to his country, duties to his friends and family, duties to allies he had fought so hard to befriend, duties to the whole world. Ezran was twelve, and he had helped save the world. Twice. 

  “Ezran,” Callum said, trying to brush a hand on his brother’s shoulder, his baby brother, who was insulting and belittling himself. Ezran flinched away and Callum’s heart ached. “You’re not a bad person, and you are definitely not a coward.”

  Ezran was silent, glaring down at the floor with a burning velocity. Callum grabbed him by the arm, forcing him to turn towards him and look at him, really look at him. Look him in the eyes. “Are you talking about the same person?” Callum asked, laughing humorlessly. “We’re talking about the boy who was willing to risk everything and travel across the whole world to reunite a baby dragon with his mother? The boy who didn’t blink at hiking up a supposedly cursed mountain or sailing across dangerous waters? The boy who befriended assassins and talked to dragons and helped bring peace to the people who have fought for generations?” 

  Callum laughed again, exasperated. “That boy is not a coward. He is brave. He is wise beyond his years. He is one of the strongest people I know,” he continued. “He’s my brother, and no matter what happens, I’m proud of him.”

  Ezran blinked, still distraught. “But I’m their king. I should be—”

  “I don’t care that you’re king!” Callum cut him off, shouting. Ezran winced, looking up at him with wide eyes. Even Rayla blinked, surprised at his sudden outburst. “You're so much more than that to me, Ez. You’re so much more than what you are to other people. You’re my little brother, and that will always come first to me. You matter the most, not some title, not some crown. I love you, Ez, not the throne.” 

  Ez looked up at him, tears pooling at the edges of his wide eyes, tears gathering under his lashes. A strange sound escaped his throat, a whimper of some sort. Without a word, he barreled into Callum’s side, chin tucked into the dips of his collarbone, curled into his side. Callum wrapped his arms around his brother, holding him the way he used to do when he was little and scared of thunderstorms. 

  By the way his shoulders shook, Callum knew his brother was crying, sobbing into Callum’s chest. Callum’s heart broke all over again. He’s just a kid, he kept thinking. He doesn’t deserve this. He shouldn’t have to deal with this. He’s just a kid. 

  He looked up, seeing Rayla as she frowned, looking down at Ezran, then up at him. She slipped an arm around Ezran tentatively, then was pulled into the hug as Ezran unslung an arm from Callum, wrapping an arm around Rayla’s waist and easing her into the group hug. 

   Rayla’s own eyes looked misty, clouded with unshed tears. She had been so worried the last few days and now all the emotion boiled over. She clutched Ez as if she was afraid he would fly away. “It’s not your fault,” she whispered.

  Ezran hummed in acknowledgment. 

  “We love you,” Rayla said quietly. 

  Ezran said something in reply, muffled against Callum’s chest and the crook of Rayla’s arm. It sounded like I love you too. 

  Callum allowed himself a deep breath, melting into the hug. He didn’t know how long they sat there, all hugging, Ezran in the middle, Rayla and him holding him as he cried. His own vision began to blur with tears, the lump in his throat back again. 

  They were all in their own sort of pain. Knowing that was comfort enough. They stayed that way until they were all crying, clinging to each other for support. 

  Eventually, Ez pulled away, wiping at his nose. The tears were drying on his cheeks as he sniffed. Rayla shifted. “You okay?”

  “Just tired,” he replied.

  “Well, do ya need a nap?” She suggested.

  He sighed. “It’s not that kind of tired.” 

  His gaze went downcast again, then his expression shifted. His eyebrows bunched up, his mouth twisted into a half grimace, half smile. 

  “What?” Callum asked immediately. “What? What is it?”

  He followed Ezran’s gaze. He looked down and gulped, suddenly feeling warm. Him and Rayla’s hands were still clasped together, fingers tangled, resting on the ruffled covers of the bed. He hadn’t realized; he had been so focused on comforting Ez. 

  “Wait,” Ez said slowly. “Are you two…?”

  He trailed off, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. Rayla let out a laugh, wiping at her wet eyes. “Why does everyone ask like that?”

  Ezran sat up, gathering his knees under him. It made Callum’s heart happy to see his brother perk up again. “Well, are you?”

  Callum raised an eyebrow. “Are we what?”

  “Callum!”

  “Yes,” Rayla drawled. “Yes, we are.”

  Ezran smiled and, for a moment, the world almost felt right again. Ez leaned forward and the young couple braced for impact, ambushed into another tight hug. Ezran wrapped his arms around their necks, bringing them all together, practically squealing. They all laughed, collapsing onto the bed. 

  Ez sat up, leaning over them. “What did this happen?” He asked, welcoming this happy distraction. “Tell me everything!” 

  “Everything?” Callum echoed. “Well, I guess it started almost three years ago when this girl chased me through the castle—”

  “Callum,” Rayla groaned. 

  “Right, right. Sorry. Where was I? Right. So, after we left for the Starscraper…”

~

 An hour later, a guard entered the tent, checking on the king on his hourly patrol. He took a few steps in and opened his mouth to announce his presence, then closed it, pausing. He surveyed the scene in front of him. 

  Across the bed, the King of Katolis, the High Mage, and the Moonshadow Elf lay sprawled out. The latter’s hands were brushing, the young king curled up between them. They curved around him, as if they could protect him even in their slumber. They were all dead asleep, oblivious to the world around them. 

  The guard cleared his throat and excused himself, exiting the tent and leaving behind the sleeping individuals. 

Chapter Text

The camp was erected a few miles from the ruins of the castle, on the outskirts of a small town called Wyver, to try to get as far away from the smoke as possible. 

  Still, it lingered, black against the light gray of the morning sky. It had been four days by now. The winds coming in from the east had shifted it significantly, but the smell, the smell of crisp wood and charred stone, of burnt metal and sulfur, still stayed all the same. 

  The spoon clinked against the edge of his bowl, echoing dully. Soren cursed under his breath, slurping down the remainder of the watery soup and sighing. He turned and looked around at his surroundings. 

  The temporary camp was bustling with movement. People gathered around crackling fires. Children played clapping games while their parents watched from the side. Villagers passed out food and blankets. Guards stood around, sharpening their blades or glancing warily up at the sky, as if half expecting the dragon to return. 

  The air was filled with the smell of roasting meat and the sound of footsteps and people talking in hushed voices. Medics and nurses dressed in light color passed through the crowds, towards the center of the camp, where their makeshift triage center was. Many of the wounded were expected to make full recoveries. They were mostly treating some nasty scars and burns, some respiratory issues from smoke inhalation, and some broken bones here and there. 

  For now, they were camped out— treating their wounded, regrouping and pulling together. Most importantly, they were waiting for word from the king. 

  Ezran, along with Corvus, were still Lux Aurea as far as they knew. If they sent a crow back, it would take a day or two, and even longer for him to return. He hoped the young king would return soon. He’d know what to say, to get their people to rally together, to give them hope. 

  But looking around at the hesitant faces and sky-filled sky, a part of him was glad Ezran had been away for so long. He knew he wouldn’t be able to bear the sight of his people in so much pain. 

  He sighed again, not quite sure what to do with himself. The last four days had consisted of helping move the wounded, helping gather firewood, patrolling the grounds, eating his rations of watery soup and beans, sleeping on the hard ground in a sleeping bag, and sharpening his blade when bored. 

  Now, he pulled his sword from its sheath and the stone from his pocket and got to work. He had been at it for a few minutes, squinting his eyes in concentration, when he heard footsteps coming from behind him. He turned to see the familiar hooded figure of Opeli. He had seen her around the camp the last few days, helping when she could, or otherwise yelling at their remaining soldiers for setting up a tent wrong. 

  He tilted his head, turning to face her, his sword forgotten. “Any word?” He asked hopefully, the same thing he had asked her for the last three days. 

  She shook her head, pursing her lips. He knew that look. It meant she was probably about to go off on a rant. Soren narrowed his eyes and turned back to his sword. Opeli lingered, looking at the open space on the boulder next to him. After a moment, she finally sat, drawing a long breath. To his surprise, she didn’t start to go off on the incompetence of the soldiers or complain about the time it took to deliver mail between here and the Xadian border. She stared at the floor, hands folded neatly on her lap. 

  “We know King Ezran received the letter days ago,” she said slowly. “As well as Prince Callum. My guess is he went to be with his brother.” She shook her head. “We did our job the best we could. We informed him, now it is up to him on what our next step is.”

  Soren stopped moving his stone across the blade. “Corvus is with him,” he said quickly. “He’s in good hands.”

  He wiped his blade with a rag, polishing it. Through its reflection, he saw Opeli send him a knowing side glance at the mention of the certain tracker. “Yes,” she replied. “He is.”

  Soren ceased his wiping, eyebrow furrowing in worry. “I hope he’s okay.”

  Opeli dipped her head. “As do I, but the king is strong. What happened— It is a shock to us all, but I’m sure he’ll return with an idea of how to move forward.”

  “I mean, yeah,” Soren agreed, spitting and wiping it into the blade. “But at the end of the day, he’s still just.. a kid,” he trailed off, biting his lip. Admitting it out loud left a tight feeling in his chest. 

  He had tried to avoid thinking about it all— the kingdom, the people, his dad. 

  Opeli didn’t reply. They both tilted their heads back and looked up into the dusky sky. 

~

The sun rises in Lux Aurea were always particularly breathtaking. 

  The views were open and clear— on a blue, cloudless day, you could see the rolling terrain for miles. The golden sun rose over the settlement, the white tents practically glowing under the light. They contrasted the hues of orange and pink painting the sky as the sun made its way up the ladder of the sky. 

  Janai had a habit of rising with the sun. Amaya usually woke not long after, stirred by the shifting of the bed under her, from the warmth at her side gone. Amaya had grown used to rising early too— a habit from her time in the military that was hard to break, even before her time as a general. 

  This morning was no different. 

  By the time the first rays of the sun made their way through the cracks in the tent, Janai was gone. Amaya blinked back sleep and sat up, tilting her head and looking around, finding her wife up and awake, sitting at the portion of the room meant for dining. She was still in her sleeping clothes and was still not wearing her crown. A small cup sat in front of her, the steam rising into the air in tiny tendrils. An empty cup sat next to it, waiting, an invitation. 

  By the time Amaya swung her feet over the side of the bed and stood, throwing her arms over her head and stretching, Janai had turned her head in her direction, beginning to sign. Good morning. Tea? 

  Amaya nodded, crossing her arms and coming to stand next to her wife. Janai smiled and reached over for the pot, beginning to pour it into the available cup. Amaya nodded her thanks and sat down, taking the cup and testing its warmth tentatively. 

  After a moment, she sipped it, satisfied. During the last two years, she had grown used to the queen’s morning customs, though she admittedly enjoyed the tea more when it was winter, when it was cooler out; though it never got too cold in Lux Aurea, never cold enough to snow. 

  That was one of the things she would miss about Katolis: the winter breezes, the cold yet refreshing morning patrols, the impromptu snowball fights the guards would start, the time off during the winter holidays she used to spend down at the lodge, building snowmen with her nephews. At the thought of Katolis, she felt a pang of unease. So much had changed in so little time. 

  She thought of Ezran, cooped up in the tent, barely leaving or talking to anyone, even Duren’s queen, who he had seemed to warm up to. At that thought, Amaya bit her lip, setting the cup back down on the tabletop. 

  Janai caught her frown. What’s wrong? 

  Amaya frowned deeper. So much has happened. 

  Janai nodded, looking down as she refilled her own cup of tea, topping it off. The steam rose, warming her cheeks. By the hunch of her shoulders, she could tell her wife was bearing a heavy sigh. 

  She paused, placing a hand on her shoulder to get her attention. Janai turned back to her and she began to sign. How long have you been up?

  Janai shrugged. Only a bit. Couldn’t sleep much. You?

  Same. 

  Janai offered her a small smile, finding her hand on the tabletop and squeezing it, a small gesture of comfort. The last few days were a blur: their wedding, the battle, helping the wounded from said battle, receiving news of Katolis, and on top of that, keeping up with their duties as leaders. 

  Amaya had come to enjoy the quiet mornings such as this even more lately. 

  A moment later, her wife shifted, drawing her attention. She reached across the table, gathering their empty cups in a bundle for a servant to fetch and wash later. 

  “We have a lot to do today,” Janai said, humming. She spoke out loud, leaving Amaya to read her lips. “We should check in on our guests, first thing. The guards report they haven’t left their quarters since yesterday.” 

  Amaya narrowed her eyes at this information. Ezran had already been sleeping and barely eating for days, but it had to stop. She would spoon feed him herself if needed. He needed to take care of himself. He still had a long trek to take back to Katolis, people to look after. It would take a lot of energy to figure out a plan moving forward. 

  She started to sign, but Janai held up a hand. “Yes, don’t worry,” she said, knowing what Amaya was about to say. “I had a servant stop by their tent. They left them fresh food.” 

 Amaya moved to sign again and Janai smirked, interrupting her again. “Yes. Lots of protein, I swear. Only the best for our royal guests.” 

  Amaya only rolled her eyes. You know me too well. 

  Janai laughed, her shoulders shaking ever so slightly. Yes, I do, she signed, then leaned over and pressed a quick kiss to her bride’s lips. She pulled away as quickly as she leaned in. Come on, she reminded her. Lots to do. 

  Amaya internally groaned. She raised her eyebrows, grabbing Janai by the arm and pulling her back. Five more minutes?

  She mirrored Amaya, slowly raising her eyebrows. Five more minutes?

  Yes. 

  Leaning in, Amaya pulled her in for another kiss, one she did not protest. She happily reciprocated, pulling back and sporting a grin. Fine, she gave in. Five minutes. 

  Amaya smirked and kissed her wife again. 

~

It had been nearly a week since Callum had slept in an actual bed. 

  Waking up, he was in pure bliss. He was warm, cocooned under the velvety soft covers, his head sinking back into the deep plush pillows. Soft sunlight drifted in, along with a light morning breeze. Somewhere outside, a bird began to sing about the start of another day. 

  For the first time in weeks, he felt truly relaxed. 

  He laid there, staring up at the makeshift ceiling, when he was aware of movement to his side. Turning his head, he saw Rayla curled up against him, her light hair tickling his cheek. Ezran was laying several feet away, laying on the opposite side of the bed, breathing heavily. 

  A moment passed, and he was not aware of lilac eyes looked into his. He smiled, shifting and rolling into his side. “Good morning,” he whispered. 

  “Good morning,” she replied, still blinking back sleep. He took a deep breath, savoring this feeling, the warmth of her body next to his, the sound of his sleeping brother not far away. 

  “So,” she said, fighting back a yawn. 

  “So…” He trailed off, raising his eyebrows. 

  “We should get up,” Rayla pointed out. 

  Callum groaned. 

  “Callum.”

  “What?” He asked, leaning in. He pressed a kiss to her cheek. 

  “We have a lot to do today—”

  “Like what?”

  “We should—”

  He pressed a kiss to the tip of her nose.

  “—meet with the queens—”

  He pressed a kiss to the middle of her forehead. 

  “—figure out what to do—”

  He hummed. “Five more minutes?”

  Rayla looked at him incredulously, then sighed, giving in. “Fine,” she said. “Five more minutes. Nothing more, nothing less.” 

  Callum sighed in content, slipping an arm under her waist and pulling her closer until she was tucked against his chest. She laughed, muffled against his body. Her warmth breath tingled on his skin. “What are you doing, you dumb human?”

  He lifted his head, looking down at her through his eyelashes. He stared at her— at the way the light danced across her face, highlighting the color of her hair, her facial markings. 

  Her nose scrunched up as she squinted at him, curious. “What?” She asked. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

  He smiled. “I’m glad you’re here, and we’re like this again.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “Like this?”

  “Shut up,” he snapped playfully, face warming. “You know what I mean.”

  “Yes, I do.” She smiled back. “And I’m glad too.”

  She was about to lean in for another quick peck when a groan sounded from the other side of the bed. Callum and Rayla exchanged quick glances, amused, and then turned over, looking to the other side of the big bed. 

  “Guys,” Ezran’s voice came from the other side of the bed, now awake, muffled by his pillow. “I’m really happy for you, but can you be all cutesy and couplely somewhere else?” 

  “Sorry, Ez,” Rayla replied quickly. 

  “Wait, you heard all of that?” Callum mumbled, a deep scarlet creeping up his neck. 

  Rayla shot him a look as Ez sat up, rubbing his eyes, then fixing his older brother with the same look. “Yes,” he said, deadpan. “I heard all of your little kissy noises.” 

  “Sorry,” Rayla repeated, now blushing as much as Callum. 

  “It’s alright,” Ezran yawned, sitting up and stretching on the edge of the bed. “It’s better than hearing you bicker like an old married couple all the time.” The young couple exchanged knowing glances and the young king turned back to them, smiling softly. “It’s nice.. almost like the old days.”

  Rayla tilted her head, looking thoughtful. She leaned back onto Callum. “It is, isn’t it? Back before the pressure of literally saving the world was on us.”

  “When it was just the three of us,” Callum said, smiling. 

  A disgruntled huff came from the corner of the bed, where Bait had been sulking under the corner of the comforter. 

  “Four,” Callum added quickly. 

  “Five, actually,” Rayla hummed. “Including Zym.”

  “Yes. Just the five of us, no stress at all,” Callum said. “No evil Startouch elves, no expectations—”

  A loud knock echoed from outside the tent, a fist hitting one of the support beams. 

  “No cryptic knocking this early in the morning,” Callum finished, scowling. 

  “King Ezran?” A voice called. Unfamiliar; it must have been a guard. 

  Ezran sat up, quickly righting himself. He smoothed down his hair and clothes, putting on his crown, while Rayla and Callum untangled from one another. “Come in!”

  The tent entrance flap parted, and in walked a Sunfire elf, followed by a human guard, both dressed in armor, and both balancing plates of food. Callum’s mouth watered at the smell alone and he realized he hadn’t eaten since yesterday afternoon. At his side, Rayla perked up. Both guards entered, faced the king, and bowed. 

  “Breakfast,” one guard said. “The queens insisted on you having a hearty meal before you join them for an audience.”

  “A hearty meal?” Rayla echoed, watching the guards juggle with the plates. “This is enough to feed a small army!” 

  “Well, I’m not complaining,” Ezran said, his appetite back. At the smell of food, the covers at the end of the bed unfurled as Bait nosed his way out. 

  The guards set the plates down and Bait scampered across the floor, jumping up onto the table with ease. The human guard nearly jumped back, looking at the glow toad in mild horror. 

  “Yes,” the elf said. “We know human taste is.. varied. We wanted to bring something you like.” 

  Ezran was already digging into the food, picking up some sort of toasted bread and biting into it. “Didn’t you say something about an audience?”

  “Yes,” the human guard said, still eyeing Bait. “In an hour’s time.”

  “You are to discuss…” the other guard trailed off, gaze going to the young king, who was chewing on contently. “Recent events.”

  Ezran swallowed thickly. “Oh.”

  With that, the guards left them to their meal, bowing once more, then leaving, the flap waving in the breeze behind them. A thick silence had settled over the space, only broken by Bait’s slurping as he gulped down a bite of food. 

  “Well,” Rayla said, attempting to break the awkward quietness. “Let’s dig in. Big day ahead of us and all.”

  She moved to look over her options but paused when she saw Ezran standing there, looking down at his half-eaten piece of bread. “Hey,” she said softly. “You okay?”

  “Yeah,” he said, wiping his mouth with the crook of his arm. “Just thinking.” He looked up at the both of them, clutching the slice so tight a few crumbs slipped off and tumbled to the floor below. “There are going to be a lot of decisions made today, important ones, and I’m not sure if I’m ready to make them.” 

  “Whatever is decided today,” Callum began. “It’ll be okay.”

  “We’ll be there with you,” Rayla offered. “Every step of the way.” 

  Ezran paused for a moment, considering it, then broke into a grin. He took a deep breath, unsquaring his shoulders. “Thank you guys.”

  “Of course,” Callum chided. 

  “Always,” Rayla replied. 

  Ezran’s gaze flickered from them back to the tabletop littered with a plethora of foods. “Now,” he said. “Can we eat? I’m starving!” 

Chapter Text

Rayla took a breath, taking a minute and stepping out of the tent to get a breath of fresh air. Don’t get her wrong— she loved the boys, but she had spent the last several hours in such close proximity to them that she just needed a moment to herself. 

  So, after eating a breakfast of eggs and a side of Xadian fruits, she managed to find a moment to slip out. She left the tent smiling, hearing Callum talking to Ez, his mouth half full, crafting tall tales of their recent adventures in the Frozen North. She was glad to see the brothers reunited, to see Ezran smiling again. 

  It was the first time she had felt normal in months. 

  She walked outside and sucked in a mouthful of fresh air, not smoky like the air was the closer you got to Katolis. She needed time to process it— all of it. So much had happened in so little time. Her returning to Katolis, rushing to stop Avaarvos, journeying to the Starscraper and trying to keep the Pearl safe in the hands of the Celestial Elves, receiving news of Katolis, Runaan, her parents. 

  Runaan had heard her, understood why she must leave with Callum. She had left him at the Moon Nexus, separating with a bone-crushing hug and a promise to see him again soon. He told her he would wait for her word, whether he chose to return to the Silvergrove or meet her in Katolis. Leaving him was hard, but he understood that her other family needed her. 

  Her thoughts swirled as she walked, footsteps light as her boots hit the ground. Her thoughts kept returning to her parents— their faces, their voices, the way they looked at her, the way their bodies felt curved around hers, hugging her. Hugging her the same way they had the day they left for the Dragonguard. 

  If she knew that would be the last time she would be hugging them, she would have held on tighter. She would have never let go. 

  Her mind went back to their words, the last conversation they had, the last conversations they wound ever have. It hit her like a punch to the chest. 

  They told her they loved her. They told her they were proud of her. They said they knew she would live a beautiful, fulfilling life. 

  And she would. She would keep going, just for them. She would do whatever she could to keep this world safe. She would help everyone around her. She would continue to fight for peace so the next generation wouldn’t have to, fight for a better future so people didn’t have to lay down their lives the way her parents did. 

  She would make them proud. 

  Rayla walked down the rows of tents, loose strands of hair blowing in the wind that swept in. It was still relatively early in the morning, and some citizens were awake and about. People emerged from their tents, yawning and stretching. People cooked breakfast. Guards stood at their posts, making small talk. In the middle of the row, an elf boy and human boy sparred playfully with wooden training swords. 

  Rayla remembered those. She had used them when she first started training with weapons, quickly surpassing the other trainees and moving onto working with real blades. 

  She paused, watching the children fight. They matched each other’s pokes and stabs beat for beat. A second later, the elf boy slipped, his defense slipping. The other boy’s sword came down in a fast arc, hitting straight for the boy’s body. The boy stumbled back, landing on his bottom. Rayla tensed, taking a step forward. She watched as the wooden weapon slowed, simply tapping the other boy on the shoulder. 

  Both boys laughed simultaneously. Dropping his sword, the human boy offered his hand and pulled his friend up. Then they returned to playing, this time chasing each other in circles, shaking their toy swords at each other threateningly. Their laughter echoed as they rounded a corner, nearly running into a human woman holding a basket of freshly baked bread. She scolded them, pointing her finger, but they ran on, still laughing without a care in the world. 

  Rayla stood there, blinking at the space the boys had been playing in just a moment before, taking in the scene. Just a few years ago, she would have thought it was impossible. Human and elf children playing together? Unheard of. It was more likely human children would play as elves and humans, pretending to subdue their enemies, and vice versa. In another life, those boys would have been training to fight against each other one day, enemies on the front lines.

  Before meeting the human princes, before falling for Callum, she would never have pictured it either. But, here they were, in an era of peace, bridging the gap between humans and elves. The dragon prince lived, the queen awakened, and, at least for now, Avaarvos’s prison secure. 

  This was the future they were fighting for, fighting to protect. This was the future her parents had risked their lives for— to keep the egg safe, the egg that held the promise to the end of a century long war, the same egg she had helped deliver across the world. 

  And she would keep fighting for that future— for that vision, for the people around her— until her last breath. 

~

Callum leaned back in his chair, tapping his fingers across the tabletop as he thought. “And then we made it up the tower,” he said. 

  “Finally,” Rayla added, having just come back from her walk as he started the story. 

  Ezran listened intently, the way he did when he was little and Callum would make up wild stories to get him to sleep. “How were the Celestial Elves?” He questioned. “Were they nice? Did they all have long beards like sage old wizards?” 

  “They were.. cryptic,” Callum said, rubbing his chin. 

  “After they pushed us off a building,” Rayla interjected, shrugging. “They weren’t too bad, I guess.”

  Ezran’s eyes widened. Even Bait’s, who was sitting in Ezran’s lap, eyes bulged. “They what?”

  “Yeah,” Callum muttered. “That happened.”

  “Don’t worry,” Rayla said quickly. “We’re fine!”

  Ezran blinked at the both of them. “You don’t say.” He tilted his head, patting Bait on the head. “What happened next?”

  “Apparently we’re a part of some prophecy,” Callum replied. “We were destined to defeat some monster so the storm would pass and the sky would clear.”

  “But turns out the monster wasn’t a monster at all. It was Esmeray,” Rayla cut in. 

  Ezran gasped. “The companion of Luna Tenebris?”

  Rayla nodded. “Mhm.”

  “And apparently Rayla can sing,” Callum added. 

  Rayla turned to him. “What does that have to do with anything?” She laughed, nose wrinkling. 

  He shrugged, smiling. “Nothing,” he admitted. “I just liked hearing your voice.”

  Rayla hummed, leaning closer to Callum. “I like hearing your voice too, ya stupid mage.”

  “Augh,” Ezran groaned. “Guys, not again.”

  Callum and Rayla pulled away. Rayla rolled her eyes affectionately. “Sorry, Ez,” she said. 

  “Can you get back to the story?” Ezran asked, perking up in interest. “Tell me about Esmeray. What was she like?”

  Rayla looked down, and felt Callum take her hand. “Lonely,” she answered after a moment. “She was sad, and lonely.”

  “And Rayla helped her,” Callum said, voice tinged with pride, looking over at Rayla proudly. 

  Ezran looked between both of them. It was his turn to roll his eyes. Callum sent his brother an amused look. “Just wait until you watch your girlfriend sing a lullaby to an Archdragon’s companion and help clear a whole storm.”

  “Um, Callum, I don’t have a girlfriend,” Ezran pointed out. “And that’s an oddly specific predicament to be in.”

  “Are ya sure, Ez?” Rayla teased. “You’ve seemed to cozy up to the queen of Duren.”

  Ezran immediately went red, reaching for the nearest plate and throwing a berry at Rayla. She easily dodged it, laughing. “Callum, you’ll have to talk to him about sandwiches,” she chuckled. 

  Callum’s head snapped up. “Wait, what?” 

  Ezran reached for another berry, but was interrupted by another knock. The group let out a collective groan, Bait looking up from his spot on the floor, retrieving the fallen berry. No food was wasted with Bait around. 

  “King Ezran?” The same guard from earlier called out. 

  “And company,” added Rayla. 

  Ezran straightened up. “Yes?”

  The guard appeared in the doorway, bowing his head. “It’s time,” he explained. “Follow me. I will escort you to the meeting.” 

  A sudden chill fell over the room, a sudden seriousness. They knew what this meeting was for, what it entailed. Decisions would have to be made— big ones. Ezran tensed, hands in balls by his side. 

  Rayla and Callum looked at one another. They came on either side of him— Callum placing a hand on his shoulder and squeezing, Rayla fixing him with an even, comforting glance. 

  He looked up at both of them, blinked, then sighed. He stood up straight, looking taller. “Okay,” he said slowly. “I’m ready.”

  They left the tent and followed the guard outside. 

Chapter Text

Janai stood at the end of the long table in the Council Chamber, tapping her finger against the surface impatiently. Her wife stood nearby, just as impatient as her, aware they had pressing concerns to tend to. 

  Commander Gren stood at the end of the table, arms crossed, staring at the tabletop as if it was the most interesting thing in the world, though Janai barely paid him any mind these days. She got used to the fact that he often accompanied Amaya, especially in situations he needed to translate. When she first started courting Amaya, not knowing much sign and stumbling her way through it, she found it quite awkward to hold a conversation with Gren there, hearing everything. Now, she was aware of Gren the way people were aware of their shadows on a sunny day. 

  Amaya sighed, moving to cross her arms. Her armor clanked. Meeting Janai’s gaze, she uncrossed her arms and started to sign. Where are they?

  The princes were late. How long does it take to walk across the camp? The Sunfire Queen thought begrudgingly. 

  Gren opened his mouth to translate but Janai was already responding. She had been practicing more; it had been a top priority the closer their wedding had gotten. 

  Janai huffed. You tell me. They’re your nephews. Does chaos run in your blood? 

  Amaya smirked, shrugging. Janai took that as a yes. 

  Janai frowned. What’s taking so long?

  Relax, Amaya signed. I’ll have plenty of time to scold them on the way to Katolis. 

  Janai paused, furrowing her eyebrows. The sign for Katolis jumped out to her. She considered it for a moment, making sure she read it right. She even looked to Gren for confirmation. “Katolis?” She echoed, and he nodded. 

  Amaya fixed her with a blank look. I’m going, she said bluntly. 

  Shocked, Janai spoke out loud. “We didn’t discuss this.”

  I thought it was the obvious choice. 

  Amaya, Janai started to argue. You’re queen now. You have duties here. You can’t just— Tripping over herself, frustrated, she began to talk aloud. “King Ezran is capable of taking care of himself and his own kingdom. He will have people escorting him. A Moonshadow trained assassin for Xadia’s sake! I think he will be just fine.”

  Amaya shot her a deadpan look. Katolis was just destroyed. He needs help. 

  “And we will help him,” Janai agreed. “I’ll send our own soldiers to accompany them if that soothes your nerves.”

  He’s still a kid, she signed fastly, Janai barely able to keep up. He needs all the help he can get. 

  “The queen of Duren has already offered to help,” Janai reminded her. “This city has enough to support itself, and not much more,” she sighed, reaching for Amaya’s hand. “But I am prepared to help however we can.”

  To her surprise, Amaya pulled away. I’m going, she said again. 

  Janai withdrew, pinching the ridge of her nose. By this time, Gren was making a point to stare at the wall, not wanting to impose on the quarreling wives. “Amaya,” she said. “Please. We have things to do here. You now a duty to these people—“

  I know, she signed. But I had a duty to him first. 

  “It is not your kingdom anymore,” Janai said sharply. “It is not your duty.”

  Amaya blinked harshly, recoiling. Janai bit her lip, regarding her words. Amaya, she switched back to signing. I—

  My first duty is always to my family, Amaya replied. I thought you would understand.

  I do.

  Then let me go, Amaya said, eyes narrowed. 

  “We will discuss this later,” Janai said, rubbing at her temples. “Not now, not here.” 

  We will discuss this now. I made a promise. I intend to keep it. 

  “You made a promise to these people!” Janai exclaimed. “To me!”

  I made a promise to my sister first, then to Harrow, Amaya signed. I’m keeping those boys safe. No matter what. 

  Janai blinked, gaze softening. “I understand,” she said. “I really do.”

  You sure don’t seem like it. 

  Gren cleared his throat. Janai spun on her heel. Amaya turned her head as she saw her wife turn away. 

  “What?!” Janai exclaimed. 

  What? Amaya signed at the same time. 

  By then, they realized they had company. Ezran, Rayla, and Callum had walked in, followed by Ezran’s guard, Corvus, and to Janai’s surprise, the young dragon prince. 

  “Um,” Callum said, scratching the back of his head. “I’m sorry I’m interrupting whatever.. this is, but we’re here for the meeting.”

  Janai overlooked the group with a look of mild interest, studying them. “You’re late,” she deadpanned. 

  “Oh, um, yeah,” Callum began to fumble, fidgeting with his hands. 

  She turned away, cutting him off. “Let’s just get started.”    

~

Callum came to stand at the end of the table, Rayla and Ez not far behind. Ezran ended up standing to his left; Rayla to his right. His hands were at his sides, grabbing a fistful of his loose shirt. Rayla’s hand bumped his and he released just in time for her hand to slip into his. He smiled softly to himself. 

  He turned his head as the rest of their group stepped into the tent. Corvus and Zym had found them on their way to the meeting, part of why they were late. Ezran wanted them there, and Corvus had caught them up on the story of the missing dragon queen. Callum was glad to hear she was fine, recovering in a secure location. 

  Janai blinked as Zym walked fully into the tent, shaking out his wings. “What is the dragon prince still doing here?” She deadpanned. “His mother will have our heads. Shouldn’t he be home by now?”

  At the word home, the young dragon seemed to hang his head. Ezran patted his head reassuringly, then turned and faced the queen. “Zym is staying with us until his mother is well,” he explained. “He’s safest with us.”

  Is anywhere really safe? Callum couldn’t help but think, considering the reason for this meeting. They had thought Katolis was safe, but here they were. 

  “Wait,” Janai said slowly, narrowing her eyes. “What do you mean by ‘when his mother is well?’ What happened to the dragon queen?”

  “Oh, she got bit by one of those shadow monsters in the city when we went to the li— ahem, Great Bookery,” Callum amended. “It got infected and all gross and goopy according to Soren—“

  “Prince Callum,” the queen snapped. 

  “Right. Sorry. Don’t worry,” Callum said quickly. “Soren and Corvus found her.” Janai raised an eyebrow, looking to Corvus, who sent her a tight smile. “She’s being treated by a mushroom mage. She’ll recover in no time!”

  “A.. ‘mushroom mage?’” The queen echoed slowly, as if in disbelief. 

  “Yes,” Ezran jumped in. “She’s in great hands.”

  “A mushroom mage,” the queen repeated under her breath. “Of course.” She turned on her heel, pacing on her side of the table. “Let’s move on. We need to discuss why we’re meeting today—“

  The tent flaps opened and in walked a teenage girl flanked by two guards, who quickly took post at the doorway. “Sorry I’m late,” Queen Aanya said. “No one told me this meeting was happening until now.”

  Janai cleared her throat. “Welcome queen of Duren,” she said flatly. “Now, can we please—“

  The flaps parted yet again and a frazzled looking young Sunfire elf came in, clutching a pile of books to their chest, glasses crooked on their nose. Kazi, Callum realized, the scholar who had accompanied them to the Great Bookery. 

  “Are you in need of another translator?” They asked in a hurry. “Or someone to take notes?” They paused when they realized everyone in the room was staring at them, fidgeting with their glasses. “What? I have good handwriting.”

  The queen blinked. “Kazi, I do not remember summoning you.”

  “You didn’t,” they said bluntly. “I just saw everyone coming in here and thought you might need help.”

  “Well,” Janai said. “Is that everyone then? Shall we just invite the whole camp?” 

  Ezran looked around, then nodded. “That’s everyone. We may begin.”

  Janai let out a long breath. “Thank you, King Ezran. Seeing as this meeting pertains to your kingdom, why don’t you take over?”

  All eyes shifted to the young king. Ezran looked surprised. “Oh,” he said. “Yes. I suppose I should take over.” He cleared his throat, gaze downcast. “You all know what happened about five days ago, and I don’t.. it’s hard to talk about but…” Ezran trailed off, biting his lip. 

  Guilt swirled in Callum’s chest. He fought the urge to reach out to his brother, to speak for him. Even he knew he couldn’t fight all his brother’s battles for him. Young or not, Ezran was still king, capable of making his own decisions. Beside him, Rayla frowned, having the same conflicting feelings. 

  “Ezran,” a voice said from across the room— young, female. Callum looked up and saw Queen Aanya speaking. He blinked at the fact she addressed his brother as Ezran, not King Ezran. Just Ezran. He shared a knowing side glance with Rayla, who subtly elbowed him. 

  “We’re all here to help,” the queen continued. “Whatever you have to say, we will listen.”

  Ezran paused and blinked at her. He then collected himself, taking a deep breath and sending Queen Aanya a small smile, dipping his head. “Thank you, Queen Aanya,” Ezran began, his jaw set. His face was serious now, voice steady. He looked around, making eye contact with everyone around the table. “As you all know, Katolis was attacked a few days ago. I’m still not sure the severity of the damage, or who was lost, but I know many were injured.” He paused. “Or worse. The castle took most of the damage, but so did some surrounding villages. Most of the region was evacuated due to the smoke and crumbling buildings, but space is limited, and rationing will only last so long.” 

  “Ever since its fall,” Queen Janai began, looking earnest. “Lux Aurea has had limited resources. We have enough to satisfy ourselves, with a bit left over. A resource we do have, however, is space. We have flat grasslands, perfect for expanding the camp.” She dipped her head, looking Ezran in the eyes. “If anyone is willing to make the journey, Lux Aurea will welcome any of the displaced.”

  Ezran’s eyes shined with emotion. He nodded in gratitude and acknowledgment, letting the queen go on. “I will have a handful of selected soldiers travel back to Katolis with you, as well as any volunteers. I know this place holds many talented minds. The architects and engineers willing to lend a helping hand may accompany you back as well.”

  As soon as Janai finished speaking, Amaya moved to sign, looking straight at her nephews. “I will accompany you as well,” Gren translated, to which Janai scowled.

  “Aunt Amaya,” Callum said. “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah,” Rayla spoke up. She looked between the two queens. “Shouldn’t you two be relaxing, or whatever newly wedded couples do?”

  The two women looked at each other, but quickly looked away. Amaya raised her eyebrows and signed something. 

  Gren coughed. “I don’t think there’s such thing as ‘relaxing’ in this family.”

  From behind them, Corvus snorted. 

  Rayla frowned. “Fair enough.”

  “I will also accompany you to Katolis,” Queen Aanya added, making everyone look at her in barely concealed surprise. 

  “You’re too kind, Queen Aanya,” Ezran said quickly. “But I couldn’t ask you to do that. You have your own kingdom to run. Surely you have your own worries.”

  “I insist,” the young queen said, eyes narrowing in seriousness. “Katolis has been our greatest ally for years now.” She dipped her head, hand going to the necklace at her chest. “Besides, I was taught that kindness makes you stronger, not weak. We’re better together.”

  Ezran looked distraught, pale. “I would never ask you to—“

  “Ezran,” the queen of Duren said harshly, and Ezran stopped. “Let us help you. There is no shame in it.” 

  Ezran swallowed thickly, then nodded. Aanya’s face was dead serious, and you could tell she was already set on this. “Me and my guards will come with you to Katolis. We will help access the damage and send for help from Duren,” she explained. “We will help as much as we can.”

  At the head of the table, Janai crossed her arms. “Any objections?”

  A murmur of agreement went through the crowd. Even the animals had something to say: Bait, at Ez’s feet, grunted. Stella, on Rayla’s shoulder, chittered. And Zym, sitting by Corvus, flicked his tail back and forth.   

  “Then it’s settled,” Janai said. “Everyone who is going will leave at first light tomorrow. You should all pack up and get some rest. It’s a long ride.” She paused, looking at the people—human, elves, and dragons alike— gathered around the table. “Kazi.”

  They perked up from their spot in the corner. “Yes, Your Radiance?” 

  “Since you are so eager to help,” the queen concluded. “You are to accompany them as well.”

  Kazi seemed to jump in their seat, eyes wide. “I will?”

  “Yes,” Janai replied, narrowing her eyes. “You will write a report, assess the damage. You will keep track of supplies that are needed so Duren can act accordingly.” She gestured to Aanya, who nodded in agreement. Janai then dropped her hand, turning away. “Good. Everything is set. Meeting dismissed.”  

~

Soren nearly nodded off for what felt like the third time that evening. 

  He stood at the edge of the temporary settlement, one hand on his hip, where his sword was sheathed. He was supposed to be keeping watch, but was failing miserably. It has been six days by now, and the last few days had been particularly difficult— people were growing restless, demanding to know where their king was, wondering when rebuilding would start, when they would get better food and supplies. Katolis only had emergency rations to last for a few weeks, at most. 

  He had barely slept the last few nights, tossing and turning on his bedroll— his mind never settling, an open chasm in the pit of his stomach. Sleeping on the hard ground didn’t help. Running on little sleep and meager rations wasn’t a good combination. (He did not want to talk about the state of his digestive system.)

  And, so, he felt himself falling asleep when he was supposed to be patrolling. He was leaning on the edge of a large tree trunk, his foot resting on one of its twisted roots that grew above ground. He was on the edge of the camp, the quiet side, compared to the chaos of the middle of the camp— where the triage and canteen were. A few people lingered outside tents, talking in hushed voices. Sometimes, they shot him glances when they thought he wasn’t looking. Some gathered around makeshift fires, dying embers rising up into the sky. 

  Soren turned away. The crackles, the smoke, the embers— it brought back bad memories now. 

  Further away, a young couple argued. The woman was crying as the man threw his arms up, stomping away. The sight wasn’t uncommon, especially these days. Tension ran high in the camp. They were all crammed together, tired and hungry and worried sick. Thankfully, it wasn’t winter, so they didn’t have to worry about the spread of disease as much as they did during the flu season. 

  Soren sighed softly, letting his head dip, resting it against his chest. His breath shortened, the rise and fall of his chest matching as he took deep breaths. His head lolled, his consciousness wavering. 

  A sudden scream hit the air. 

  He startled, jumping up and drawing his sword in one movement. He turned, aiming his blade at the invisible enemy. He saw now a woman was pacing a few feet away, bouncing a wailing toddler. She sent him a wide-eyed look over her shoulder. He noticed the bags under her eyes as the child cried on. 

  He sheathed his sword, sparing her with a sympathetic glance. He knew he wouldn’t be much of a help. Children and parents alike had grown restless in the last few days. The adults tried to be strong for the younger ones, but he saw when they faltered— in their eyes, in their tight smiles. 

  He tried to help when he could: starting an impromptu soccer game with an old, flat ball, letting kids hold his sword, and grabbing said swords when the kids attempted to skewer their siblings. 

  He told everyone this was temporary, and he tried to believe himself when he said it. 

  “Captain?”

  Soren jumped again, reaching for his sword. He turned to see an alarmed looking guard, hands up to appear harmless. A pale man with dark hair sheared closed to his head. Silvan or Silas or something like that. 

  “Whoa!” Silvan-or-Silas exclaimed. “I didn’t mean to scare you like that.” 

  Soren tensed, scratching his neck. He dropped his other hand casually, trying to cover up the fact he had almost drawn his sword on a fellow Crownguard. “What? I wasn’t scared, just.. startled is all,” Soren said. 

  The guard looked skeptical, raising one bushy eyebrow, then dropping it. “Mhm,” he said. “I’m sure you were, sir.”

  “So,” Soren said, clearing his throat. “What brings you over to my little piece of paradise?” He leaned further on the tree, emphasizing the space around them. He crossed his legs for good measure, nearly tripping on the overlapping roots. His smile tightened. “Everything okay?” He raised his head, suddenly aware, checking their surroundings. “There wasn’t another fight over the last bowl of mushroom stew was there?”

  The guard shook his head, eyebrows furrowed. “No, sir,” he said, hands on his hips. “Just checking. You looked.. out of it.”

  “Me? Out of it?” Soren echoed. He waved him off. “Pfft, you must be mistaken.”

  Silvan-or-Silas blinked. “You were falling asleep on that tree, sir.”

  “It’s a new strategy,” Soren explained. “You pretend to fall asleep so the bad guys come out, and when they do..” He trailed off, swooping his fist to intimidate a punch. “Ka-CHOP!”

  The guard nodded, only looking more concerned. There was a wrinkle in between his eyebrows by now. “Uh huh,” he hummed. “Does that usually work?”

  Soren audibly snorted. “Of course it does. That’s why I use it.” 

  Silvan-or-Silas frowned. There was thick, awkward silence for a moment. Soren swore he could hear crickets in the underbrush. He cleared his throat again, growing serious. “Is that all?”

  Silvan-or-Silas tensed, straightening, standing taller. He reached into his pocket, pulling out a rolled-up parchment. He recognized the bright seal as one that came from the Lux Aurea encampment. The letters that General Amaya sent bore the same stamp. 

  Soren perked up, a stupid feeling like hope returning to his chest. He felt like he was floating. Was that..?

  “It’s from the king,” Silvan-or-Silas proclaimed, answering his silent answer. “Addressed to you personally. It just arrived. I came to find you as soon as I could.”

  He reached out, offering Soren the scroll. Soren nearly ripped it out of his hands in his haste to grab it. He flinched, taking a step back as Soren ripped it open, breaking the seal. His eyes flickered back and forth as he read. It was a few paragraphs in length. He poured over the brief explanation. He paused, heartbeat beating faster, when he saw Corvus’s name written in Ezran’s familiar scrawl, which wasn’t weird at all. At the end, it was signed with Ezran’s cursive signature. 

  He had been in Lux Aurea the last few days, as they had predicted. Callum and Rayla had arrived a day ago. They were planning to start their trek back to Katolis the following morning. They were to be accompanied by a handful of soldiers from the Sunfire Army and the Queen of Duren herself and her guards, both of whom had already offered aid, ready to help however possible. Upon their arrival, they planned to be ready to address the people, telling them of their plans of rebuilding. 

  By the time he was done reading it, he felt giddy. Ezran was coming home. He was okay! Rayla and Callum were coming too. They were all okay! 

  He was aware of the other man’s gaze on him, probably wondering why the Captain of the Crownguard was wearing such a goofy grin. “Is everything okay, Captain?” He asked, voice low and cautious. 

  “More than okay!” Soren exclaimed. “Everything is gonna be okay!”

  “Oh.. okay?” The guard replied skeptically. 

  Overcome with frivolity, he leaned forward and bundled Silvan-or-Silas into a tight bear hug, clapping him on the back. The man stiffened under him, a grunt of surprise leaving his throat as his feet momentarily left the ground. 

  “Oh, thank you!” Soren cried. “Thank you!”

  “I’m just the messenger,” the poor guy wheezed. 

  “Still,” Soren replied, putting the guard back on the ground and punching him square in the shoulder. “Thank you. Whoo! I haven’t felt this way for days.” He whistled. “Thank you, Silvan.”

  He visibly winced. “My name is Sylvain, sir.”

  Soren shrugged, taking it as a win. “Close enough.”

Chapter Text

Dear Runaan,

  Rayla sighed in frustration as she crossed off the words at the top of the paper for the second time. She sat at the desk in the tent her and Callum had been put in for the night. Parchment paper and a half-filled inkwell sat in front of her. She was attempting to write a letter to Runaan, telling him of her choice to return to Katolis after all. 

  But she couldn’t find a way to put it, to get everything down on paper. The words were stuck on the tip of her tongue, swirling around her head. 

  From the bed, Callum looked up from where he was gathering up all his belongings, packing for tomorrow. It was a few hours until sundown, and they left first thing in the morning. A part of her knew she should be packing herself and resting up, but she wanted to get this done. Runaan at least deserved to know where she was, what she was doing. She had left him at the Moon Nexus, waiting for her word. 

  Besides, packing wouldn’t take long. Between the both of them they had very little belongings— Callum had his staff and sketchbook, Rayla had her blades, and they both had a change of clothes, bedrolls, a bar of soap, and a flask for water. The food they had brought for their journey to Lux Aurea was long gone, but they would stock up before they left tomorrow morning. 

  Callum lifted his head. “What’s wrong? You’ve been engaged in an intense staring contest with that piece of paper.” He grinned. “Who’s winning?”

  Rayla groaned. “I think the paper is.”

  Callum frowned. “Oh.” He tilted his head. “What’s up?”

  “I can’t figure out what to say,” Rayla explained. 

  “Who is it to?” Callum questioned.

  “Runaan,” Rayla said. 

  Callum paused, swallowing. “Oh.”

  There was always a noticeable beat of silence when she brought up his name. She turned away, biting her lip. “Yeah.”

  “Well…” Callum trailed off. “What do you want to tell him?”

  “That we’re going to Katolis,” she said slowly. “That I’m not sure how long it will be for, and that I want to see him again, to catch up, but, for now, I need to be here.”

  Callum hummed, nodding. “And what else?”

  “That I love him, and that Ethari does too, so he needs to go to him,” Rayla continued, looking down. “He should return to the Silvergrove until this is all over, and.. maybe I could one day, too.” She shook her head. “But not today. I’m needed elsewhere.”

  Callum frowned. He knew how hard she had taken the Ghosting, especially more so now that her parents were gone, and Runaan and Ethari would be there, but she couldn’t go to them. She couldn’t return home, but these days, she wasn’t entirely sure what home was anymore. Maybe it wasn’t four walls and a roof. Maybe it was a person. 

  Maybe it was the human mage curled up on the bed across from her. 

  Rayla sighed, fidgeting with the curled edge of the paper. “That’s what I want to say.”

  “Then tell him,” Callum urged her on. “It doesn’t have to be perfect. Just get your point across. It’s better to be blunt, to be honest, than to not write to him at all.”

  Rayla shook her head. “I’m not sure how he’ll take it,” she said, hanging her head. “After two years, he’s back, he’s alive, and I just thought we could be a family again, but.. we’re just right back to the chaos.”

  On the bed, Callum straightened up, knees propped up to his chest. “I know,” he started. “I'm sorry—“

  “It’s not anyone’s fault,” Rayla said quickly. “Just bad timing is all.” She turned back to him, a small smile playing on her lips. “It seems like our luck though, doesn’t it?”

  “Yeah,” Callum snorted. “Always something going on with us.”

  “Dragons to rescue, worlds to save,” Rayla quipped, shrugged. “An average Tuesday, really.”

  Callum laughed, and then it was his turn to sigh. “I think he’ll understand,” he said, and Rayla immediately knew he was talking about Runaan. “He knows you’re growing up, and you can make your own decisions now. Plus, he just got you back. I don’t think he wants to waste time being mad at you. He doesn’t want to lose you.” Callum’s gaze softened as he met her eyes. “I guess that’s one thing I have in common with him.”

  She smiled, warmth spreading in her chest. “Yeah,” she said, furrowing her eyebrows. “I guess spending two years on the brink of life and death really gives you time for some deep soul-searching.”

  Callum squinted. “I mean, yep, something like that.”

  With that, Rayla turned back to the desk and paper laid in front of her, waiting. She took a deep breath, and began to write. 

~

The sun was setting by the time she returned to her quarters, finished with evening patrol. Well, technically, it wasn’t a patrol. As general, she decided when and who went on patrol, including herself, but the evening walks around the settlement helped clear her head, more so with everything that had happened in the last week, or the last two years to be exact. 

  Besides, the sunsets here were just as beautiful as the sunrises. 

  The blues and purples of twilight were dousing the sky as she slipped into their bedroom, leaving the last slivers of the sun behind her. The tent was only lit by the hanging lantern in the corner, highlighted in hues of light orange and pink. She found Janai quickly in the lowlight, standing by the mirror, already dressed down for bed. 

  She frowned. That wasn’t like the queen. If anything, she often stayed up too late, Amaya having to drag her to bed. And, if anything, she had been reluctant to give in to sleep, haunted by nightmares and cryptic dreams. 

  She found herself coming up behind her wife, looking at the both of them through the mirror. Janai glanced at her warily. They hadn’t had a chance to talk since the meeting earlier that morning. Amaya had left quickly to get some fresh air, and Janai still had more meetings and things to tend to. 

  Now, Janai fiddled with her horn cuff, and Amaya’s own hand went to the necklace tucked under her armor. They had chosen to do both human and elven traditions for their wedding jewelry. Janai wore a cuff around one of her horns. Amaya had a ring, but as her job was very physical and she didn’t want it to be lost or damaged, she wore it on a necklace, the ring resting over her heart. 

  Janai turned away from the mirror, appearing to be sighing. Amaya stepped forward, placing her hands on her shoulders. Janai paused, stiffening under her touch. 

  Amaya touched one hand to her cheek, over her facial markings. What’s wrong?

  Janai pulled away. “You know what’s wrong,” she said, not even attempting to sign. She must have been really upset. “You should have told me.”

  Amaya raised an eyebrow. Told you what?

  “That you were leaving,” Janai exclaimed. “Don’t you think you should have told me?”

  It doesn’t have to be a big thing. 

  “It is to me,” Janai replied. “I’m your wife. You’re supposed to tell me these things.”

  I’m telling you now, Amaya tried. 

  Janai scoffed. Amaya tried to reach out again, but she dodged her, turning away. I’ll be quick, she signed. I’ll be back before you know it. 

  “It doesn’t matter,” Janai whispered, and by the way her jaw moved, by the way her throat tightened, Amaya could tell her voice was breaking. She crossed her arms, turning away even more. “I want you here, with me.”

  Janai faced her, eyes swimming with tears. Amaya’s breath caught in her throat. Janai—

  “Don’t go,” she rasped. 

  I have to.

  “I’m scared,” Janai admitted. She bridged the gap between them, taking Amaya’s face in her hands. “I thought we could just.. be after this, but there’s always another problem. We stopped Viren. We stopped a war. We’re fixing things between elves and humans. My brother is defeated, and your nephews stopped the Startouch Elf that had the power to destroy the world, the one in my dreams.” She paused, swallowing. “What if it never stops? There’s just problem after problem. What if it never ends?”

  Amaya was silent, cupping her hands over Janai’s. Her heart broke to see her in such a state. 

  Janai let out a shaky breath. “I was just betrayed,” she said. “Our future is at stake, and I’m asking you to stay.”

  Amaya took a deep breath, signing something she had signed countless times, to many people, but perhaps to Janai the most. I love you. 

  Then stay, Janai signed back. 

 Reaching out, Amaya wiped away a stray tear on Janai’s cheek. I can’t. 

  With that, she turned on her heel, leaving Janai crying in front of the mirror. 

~

“Ssh,” Soren shushed. “Keep it down.”

  “Soren,” Opeli snapped for the third time in that half hour. “Stop doing that!” 

  Soren balked. “Doing what?”

  “Shushing me,” she exclaimed. “What are you—“

  Soren shushed her again, then clapped. “Alright, let’s get started.”

  Barius leaned forward, careful of the baby glow toads currently curled up in front of him. “And what is this exactly?”

  Soren blinked, looking around at the half-filled table. It was painfully obvious that over half the High Council was missing, most importantly the king, but he was making it work. He had called the meeting awhile ago, but Opeli had been too busy bickering with one of the cooks after she found a hair in her sandwich. Barius had been waiting for them patiently. 

  “Welcome to The Super Duper Top Secret High Council meeting,” Soren announced. “Part Two.”

  Barius raised his eyebrows while Opeli audibly groaned, putting her head in her hands. “No,” she said. “We’re not doing this.”

  Barius shrugged. “I don’t have a problem with it,” he voiced his opinion. “In fact, I think it’s nice Soren is getting us to meet with him, like old times.” 

  “Don’t encourage him,” Opeli whispered fiercely, directed towards the baker. 

  “You hear that?” Soren poked at the High Cleric, grinning. “Barius thinks this is nice.”

  “No,” Opeli deadpanned. “We’re not making this a thing.”

  “Too late,” Soren replied. “It’s already a thing.” 

  Opeli whispered something bitterly under her breath and Soren actively chose to ignore it. “Alright,” he said, reaching into his pocket and rolling the parchment onto the table. “First matter of business, guess who’s on his way home? Our King Ezran, that’s who!”

  Barius raised his eyebrows again, looking pleased, while Opeli squinted down at the letter, gripping the edge of the table. “Uh,” Barius said. “You okay?”

  Soren swore her left eye twitched. “You’re telling me you had this letter for a whole day and didn’t tell us sooner?!” She exclaimed. 

  Soren rolled his eyes. “I would’ve told you sooner if you weren’t arguing with the entire kitchen staff,” he said. “And how do you know I had it for a day?”

  Her gaze went to the paper, then to him. “That’s jelly smeared on it,” she deadpanned. 

  His face dropped. “Oh.”

  She drew in a breath, pinching the ridge of her nose. “What do I tell you about eating around important documents?”

  “Um, to not do it?”

  Her eyes twitched again. 

~

That night, the whole camp was a witness to the loud, booming voice of their High Cleric scolding the Captain of the Crownguard, yelling at him about.. jelly?

Chapter Text

Janai found her in the courtyard, the one Amaya had found her countless times, sleepless and distraught. The irony wasn’t lost on Janai as she made her way down the pathway. Their places had shifted. 

  She sat on the steps leading up to the tree that once held the Sun Seed, tucked between the twisted roots, still blackened and charred. Janai weaved her way between them, coming to stand in front of her wife, who sat on the topmost step, looking down. As the sun cast the last of its rays, Janai’s shadow stretched over the steps, onto Amaya’s lap, and she looked up. 

  Amaya’s face shifted when she realized it was her, a mix of surprise and something else. She narrowed her eyes, suspicious. Janai gestured to the step beside her, and Amaya nodded. 

  As soon as Janai sat, the memories of their argument came flooding back. It had been less than an hour since Amaya had left. Janai had collected herself, giving them both the time to cool off. She folded her hands in her lap, but it felt wrong, so she moved them to her sides. Her gaze had been at her feet, deep in thought, but looked up when she was aware of Amaya’s gaze on her. 

  Amaya was turned to her, one eyebrow raised in a silent question. Janai swallowed thickly, gulping. 

  Amaya moved first, signing something short, one of the first things Janai had learned to sign herself. Hey. 

  Janai let out a choked laugh, mirroring the motion back to her wife. Hey. 

  Amaya’s eyebrow dropped, and she just looked concerned. She took Janai gently by the chin, as if studying her. Her eyes were crinkled in the corners, the way they did when she squinted in worry. Are you okay?

  Janai nodded, though she wasn’t sure. She wasn’t sure what was feeling just yet. 

  Amaya dropped her chin, moving her hands back to her lap. They sat down, huddled against each other, the silence enveloping them like a thick blanket. She wasn’t aware she had zoned out until she felt a hand on her hand, threading their fingers together. She looked down at their joint hands, blinking. Amaya squeezed her hand once, then twice. It was her own way of saying sorry. 

  Janai squeezed her hand back three times, one of each word. I’m sorry too.

  When she looked back to her wife, she looking up, towards the trunk of the tree, in the middle, where the gap of where the Seed’s glow used to be was empty. Devoid. Gone. 

  Janai’s gaze lingered there too, but she forced herself to look away. There was no use dwelling on it. It just made her more angry than she already was, more sad too. A month ago, she thought her people, a few generations away at least, had a future. It didn’t matter that she wouldn’t live to see it— it mattered that the future generations had a chance. It would all be worth it if she left a better world, a world better than the one she was born into. 

  But now that future was gone, stolen away by the people she had trusted most. 

  Her gaze fell to the floor. She slowly shook her head. Her people had survived worse. They would continue to survive. But what was surviving without that small spark of hope? It certainly wasn’t living. 

  Amaya squeezed her hand again, and she looked up, eyes watery. She took a deep breath, urging herself to speak up. She didn’t want to still be on bad terms when Amaya inevitably left tomorrow morning.

  “I understand now,” Janai said, and Amaya tilted her head. “I always think of my people, worrying for their safety, for their future. My duty has always been to my kingdom, just as your duty is to yours.” She shook her head, sniffing. “I shouldn’t have expected you to stay. They’re your family. Of course you would go,” she continued, lifting one hand and pressing it to her wife’s cheek. “That’s who you are. You’re protective, and caring, and there isn’t a thing you wouldn’t do for those you care about.”

  Amaya smiled softly, letting her go on. “I’m worried for the future, the future of my people. I realize it has been about me. The way I acted was selfish, careless, and I apologize,” Janai said. “You will leave tomorrow, and you’ll have my blessing. Whatever you do, you’ll have my full support.” She smiled, a sad sort of one that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “But I can’t say I won’t miss you.”

  Amaya gently shook her head, amused. I’d be worried if you didn’t miss me. 

  Janai let out a long breath. Forgive me?

  Amaya nodded. If you forgive me too. 

  Janai nodded, then bundled into a hug from her human spouse. She wrapped her arms around her back, smiling into her armor. Her gaze fell back to the empty gap, to the noticeable absence of the Sun Seed, and she closed her eyes. 

  When she pulled away, she began to speak, Amaya watching intently. “I was worried about the future,” she repeated. “But I love you, and I trust you to make the right decisions. I know that we will build something great. I know we will leave behind something for our children, and for their children. As long as we’re together, our future is bright.”

  Amaya smiled, and she swore it was as bright as the sun itself. 

  Be careful, Janai said. Amaya moved to sign and reassure her, but Janai took her hands, which were bare, without gloves, for once. She opened her palms, uncovering the burn scars that were still there— faded, but a reminder of the time she had held Janai down, her flesh burning, but still refusing to let go.

  Janai brushed a finger over the scar, gingerly, tenderly. They were healed, scarred over. It didn’t hurt her, but Amaya still held her breath in anticipation. Janai brushed a gentle kiss to her palm, then cupped it closed. It was almost reverent. 

  Be careful, Janai signed again, then spoke out loud, emphasizing her words. “And no matter what,” she said. She pressed her forehead against her wife’s. “Come back to me.” 

  Amaya pressed a kiss to her jawline, to the faded bruise she had gotten a while ago, from a battle long since forgotten. She signed one word, then kissed her again. Always. 

~

Callum was up late. 

  He had meant to be in bed by now, but too much was weighing on his mind. He had packed and unpacked. He had tossed and turned, listening to Rayla’s steady breathing, until he couldn’t handle it anymore. 

  He untangled himself from Rayla’s arms, grabbed his jacket, and hurried outside. He had paced up and down the rows for a while, wearing himself out. He had then sat down by a small fire the guards on watch had set, sketching absentmindedly in his sketchbook. He drew Rayla, because, of course he did. 

  He was finishing sketching her facial markings, the ones under her eyes, as a shadow fell over the page. Surprised, he managed to hold back his yelp and right himself, straightening. He looked up to see Janai, though she wasn’t wearing her crown or her armor. Callum looked around, noticing that, for once, there weren’t any guards following her. Did they know she was out here? 

  “Queen Janai,” he said, still surprised. He tried to bow, bending over, but as he was still sitting down, it was stiff and awkward. 

  She only sighed. “Please get up, Callum,” she said. “I’m not here as a queen.”

  He sat up, even more confused. He squinted. “You’re here as a friend?”

  She blinked. “Something like that.” 

  There was silence for a moment. The fire crackled on in the background, dying. Callum sniffed, looking away. 

  Janai still just stood there, arms folded behind her back, as if expecting something. Callum scooted over, gesturing to the space beside him. Janai nodded, then took a seat by his side. 

  Callum loftily shut his sketchbook, not before Janai got a glance at the half-finished drawings inside. She raised her eyebrows. “You and the Moonshadow elf, huh?”

  Callum’s face went warm, and he was about to brush off the teasing, but he realized it was nothing to be ashamed of. “Yes,” he said proudly, smiling to himself. 

  She gently shook her head. “I guess I should thank you two.”

  Callum tilted his head. “And why is that?”

  “If it weren’t for your two and your..” She widened her eyes for emphasis. “Shenanigans, I might have never met your aunt.” She paused. “I still remember that moment at the Storm Spire, after the dragon queen woke up. You two were holding hands, and then Amaya went to grab mine.”

  “Wow,” Callum said playfully. “It’s nice to know our love was so inspirational.” He went to elbow Janai in the shoulder, but withdrew upon seeing her side glance. “And, for the record,” he said. “It was so obvious.”

  Janai blinked. “What was obvious?”

  “That you and Aunt Amaya were going to end up together.”

  “How?” Janai questioned incredulously. “She was my prisoner—“

  “True love prevails over all things,” Callum exclaimed. 

  Janai blinked again, sending him a weird look. “Humans have strange sayings.”

  He shrugged. “You married one.” He shifted, tapping his fingers together. “Speaking of Aunt Amaya, earlier, before the meeting, were you guys fighting?”

  Janai sighed, then nodded. “Yes, but we talked about it,” she explained, leaning forward, elbows on her knees. “It’s final. She’s escorting you to Katolis.”

  Callum furrowed his eyebrows. “That is what you were fighting about?” He echoed. 

  “Yes,” Janai nodded. “I wanted her to stay here, by my side, but I realized that wish was selfish. Other people need her, not just me.” She closed her eyes. “She made a promise to her sister, to your mother, long before we ever met. I have to respect that.”

  “My mother?” Callum repeated.

  Janai tilted her head, facing him, expression serious. “What was she like?”

 He was taken back at first, but began to talk. “She was brave,” Callum started. “And tough, but also kind. She was everything, actually. It seems like that would be hard, but she made it work. She was amazing,” Callum went on, starting to smile. “She even beat my step-dad when they sparred. The guards would make bets and all.” 

  Janai laughed. “Really?” 

  He nodded. “Really. Before she married my step-dad, she was a warrior. Both she and Amaya were training in the Katolian Army. Then she got married and had Ezran.” He paused, blinking. “She was a great queen, and a great mother, and I was very lucky to be her son.”

  “She sounded like a true warrior, a true queen,” Janai said slowly. “Losing a mother.. The pain is very hard to bear. You must have inherited her strength.” She bowed her head. “I’m very sorry.” 

  He looked up at her. Her pain seemed all-too-familiar, just like an old ache. “Your parents?” He asked quietly. 

  “Gone,” she replied, then looked away. The firelight danced in her eyes, making them ripple as if filled with tears. “It was years ago, but that doesn’t make it any easier.” 

  “No,” Callum said softly, shaking his head. “It doesn’t.” He looked up as Janai gathered her hands in her lap. He shifted, moving his sketchbook to his side, looking at her. “When I lost my dad, Ez was some of the only family I had left. And, if I’m being honest, he was one of the only reasons I still woke up each morning and kept going.” He paused, tilting his head. “Do you have any siblings?”

  Janai turned to look at him, and he blinked harshly. “Right. I mean, I know you have a brother, but that seems like a sore subject—“

  “I had a sister,” Janai said. 

  The had rang out into the air. Callum swallowed. “What was she like?”

  “Her name was Khessa. She was queen before me. I served under her as the Golden Knight. She was harsh, strict even,” Janai said. “But she was still my sister, and I loved her very much.” She paused, taking a deep breath. “When I think of her, I like to think of when we were kids, before the weight of the crown was on her head. I like to remember her like that.”

  “And your brother?” Callum prompted, 

  Her lip curled. “I don’t know, and I’m not sure if I want to,” she supplied. “After he realized Sol Regem wasn’t showing up, he ran like the coward he is.” She shook her head. “I can still see the looks on his soldiers’ faces as he turned tail and ran. I almost felt bad for them, but, then again, they did willingly choose to betray their people.” 

  “I can’t believe he managed to get a whole Archdragon on his side,” Callum commented, then winced. “Well, almost.”

  “Yes,” Janai echoed, starting to smile. “It didn’t end well for him.” 

  “Hmm,” Callum hummed, appearing deep in thought. “Sunfire Elves are connected to the Sun Arcanum, right?”

  “Correct,” Janai replied, puzzled. “Elves are born connected to an arcanum.” She looked him over. “But most don’t parade around with spellbooks or a staff.”

  “Can you tell me about the Sun Arcanum?” The human prince perked up, interested. “Are there any times you feel especially connected to it?”

  She shrugged. “Perhaps you should stare directly at the sun. That ought to make you feel close to it.”

  To her surprise, Callum began to consider it. “Huh,” he said. “Do you really think that would work?”

  “I think,” Janai said, standing up and brushing herself off. Suddenly, she felt like the queen again, regal, authoritative. “You should get some rest. You have a long journey ahead of you.”

  Callum blinked. “Yeah. Right.” He started to get up, bundling up his sketchbook and charcoal. Janai began to walk away, but he called out to her one last time. “I’m going to talk to you about the Sun Arcanum sometime! Be prepared!”

  The queen’s laughter ran out into the still night air. “Goodnight, Prince Callum.” 

~

Rayla didn’t know what time it was by the time Callum came back, slipping into bed. She had noted his absence, stuck between sleeping and dreaming, but didn’t feel the need to get up because of it. 

  She only cracked open an eye when she heard footsteps, followed by the squeak of the bed as someone sat down on it. She took a deep breath, fighting the urge to reach for her blades, which rested under her pillow, much to Callum’s dismay. The first time he realized she slept with them there, he had started ranting, wide-eyed. Rayla, he had exclaimed, are you TRYING to lose a finger?

  What could she say? Her two years on the road had left her on edge. 

  She turned her head, now seeing the silhouette of Callum in the dim room. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, untying his boots. 

  “Callum?” She slurred, still half asleep. 

  He leaned over, shushing her. “Go back to sleep.”

  He pressed a kiss to her forehead, his breath warm against her face. She blinked. “Where were ya?”

  He pulled away, shrugging off his jacket, then finally settling down. He laid down behind her, slinging an arm over her waist. “Midnight conversations with elven queens,” he muttered sarcastically. “You know how it is.”

  Rayla opened her eyes, yawning. “Huh?”

  “Don’t worry about it,” he said, pressing another kiss to her scalp. “Go back to sleep.”

  Rayla gave in, deciding not to argue. She had plenty of time to talk to him on their way to Katolis. She settled back in, curled against Callum. 

  It was the best she slept in ages. 

Chapter Text

The sun was already high in the sky as they prepared to move out the next morning.

  Callum finished tucking his traveling pack into his horse’s saddle, the same mare he rode there on. He double and triple checked his girth, not wanting a repeat of the first time he rode and nearly slid off the horse. (Soren still teased him about it to this day.)

  He was just finishing up checking his tack when the others arrived— Aanya and her guards, their horses freshly groomed and stark white against the tan, dead grass surrounding Lux Aurea, Queen Janai and the soldiers she had selected to accompany them, their armor shining in the sun, and behind them trailed Kazi, a book bag slung over their shoulder, still looking unsure. 

  He turned to Rayla, who was on his left, struggling with tightening her mount’s girth. She had thoroughly succeeded in pissing off the horse, his ears back, as if he wanted to bite her. “Stupid leather, stupid human saddles,” she exclaimed, exasperated. She blew a piece of hair out of her face, looking up at her steed. “It’s either me, or you need to cut back on the grass.”

  He snorted, then whacked her in the leg with his tail for good measure. 

  “Hey!” Rayla cried. “You smug little—“

  Callum interrupted, raising an eyebrow. “Are you arguing with a horse?”

  “He started it!” Rayla fought back. 

  Callum blinked at the horse, who was nosing at the blades of dry grass. “Uh huh.”

  Rayla sighed, yanking him up by the reins. “He hates me,” she muttered. 

  “He’s a horse,” Callum interjected. 

  Ezran walked up then, leading his own mount, a content looking chestnut mare. “Hey guys,” he greeted. “Fine morning, isn’t it?”

  Callum nodded and Rayla grumbled incoherently, going back to yanking at the girth, finally getting it buckled. Ezran paused, widening his eyes. “Whoa, Rayla, your horse is not happy,” he said. “He’s having some.. strong feelings about you right now.”

  Rayla flashed Callum a pointed look. 

  “Also,” Ezran added. “His girth is too tight.”

  With that, Ezran walked off, his horse following after him, hooves striking the earth. Rayla groaned and undid the buckle yet again, whispering under her breath, which included a colorful string of curses Callum was glad Ezran didn’t hear. 

  His attention was shifted again when he was aware more people were arriving. Aunt Amaya, dressed in full armor, tailed by Gren, was engaged in conversation with Janai. Janai responded, signing something, then stepping forward and kissing her wife on the lips. 

  Callum frowned, hating to split them up. They had just gotten married. Shouldn’t they be laying on some sunny beach, or whatever Xadia had? Rayla and Callum both had tried to talk her out of it, but she was dead set on accompanying them. 

  Leaving Rayla fiddling with her girth strap, he handed his reins to a nearby guard, heading over to where his aunts and Corvus were standing. Corvus stood with a hand shielding his eyes, head tilted back. Callum squinted and saw that Zym was zooming around above them, probably getting out his excess energy before the trip, where he would have to fly slowly to allow those traveling on land to keep up. 

  He looked across the clearing to where Ezran was standing with his horse, waiting, and Rayla was helping load up Queen Aanya’s horse. She struggled with the saddle bag, eyebrows furrowed. “What did you pack? Rocks?” 

  The guards behind him looked rather offended, shocked someone took that tone with the queen. 

  Aanya only laughed. “Nope,” she said. “Arrows.”

  Rayla paused. “You came here for a royal wedding,” she said, squinting. “And you pack bags of arrows? Moons, what kind of after party were you expecting?”

  “The bad kind,” Aanya replied, mounting her horse. “And it turned out to be the bad kind. Besides, it’s better to be prepared.” Aanya’s gaze went to the butterfly blades at Rayla’s back. “As I see you are. Beautiful blades, by the way. The craftsmanship.. I haven’t seen anything like it. Is it Xadian? Where’d you get them?” 

  “Queen Aanya,” Rayla replied. “I think you may be my long lost cousin.” 

  Callum snorted, coming to stand next to Gren and his aunt, in between them. Amaya was still signing to the queen and he caught the tail end of it. 

  I’ll be back soon, Amaya signed, although Janai didn’t look so convinced. They grabbed each other’s hands, turning as Callum approached. 

  “Good morning,” he greeted them, fighting the urge to bow upon seeing the queen, a hard habit to break. Janai had told him to stop bowing, that it was getting weird. “Are you ready to head out?”

  Amaya nodded, letting go of her wife’s hand with a kiss to her knuckles and one last glance. Janai watched her go, a distant look on her face. 

  Ezran came up then, looking solemn. “Well, looks like we’re heading out in a few minutes. We’ll finally be out of your hair,” Ez tried to joke. Janai blinked, and Ezran cleared his throat. “Thank you for everything.” He followed her gaze, watching Amaya and Gren mount their horses, giving orders to the passing soldiers. “We’ll get her back to you as soon as possible.”

  Janai dipped her head. “Go home, Ezran. Take care of your people. I’ll be here if you need anything.” She straightened, folding her hands behind her back. “Travel safely. Take care of each other.”

  Ezran nodded, closing the distance between them. He wrapped his arms around Janai’s waist, hugging her. She seemed to tense at first, surprised, but relaxed. She put an arm around his shoulder. “Be safe,” she whispered as he pulled away. “And good luck.” She looked at the two of them. “Both of you.” 

  “We will,” Callum answered for the both of them, slinging an arm around his brother. When Janai nodded one final time, he guided his brother back to the horses. He gave his shoulder a squeeze, then released. Ezran gave him a reassuring look, nodding, and left his side to go to his horse. 

  Callum found the guard that still held his horse, still in the same spot. He thanked them and took the reins back. He checked the girth again, just to be sure. He checked over on Rayla, glad to see she was no longer wrestling with pieces of leather. 

  Before he could mount, about to swing himself over, there was a tap on his shoulder. He turned to see Janai, handing out a satchel that appeared to be filled with wrapped-up triangles. “Sandwiches,” she said. “For the road.” He took it and slung it over his shoulder, nodding his thanks. She wrinkled her nose, squinting. “Don’t give Ezran the one with the sauce. He tried it at the wedding, said it was too spicy.”

  Callum couldn’t help but laugh at that. He secured his foot in the stirrup, boosting himself up and scooting around in the saddle, getting comfortable. He gripped the reins and smiled down at Janai, a light feeling in his chest. 

  Janai furrowed her eyebrows. “What?”

  “Nothing,” Callum replied. “Just glad I’m.. here, like this. Elves and humans, I mean. Living together, helping each other.”

  His gaze instinctively went to Rayla, who had mounted her steed, smiled back at him, giving him a small wave. He waved back, aware he was probably wearing a goofy grin. 

  Janai’s gaze went to her wife on the other side of the clearing, then back to him. “I’m glad too.”

  Callum sent her a grateful look. “I know I’ve said this before, but thank you for your help. Offering up your own space is very generous, and—“

 Janai shook her head. “What is with you and your brother’s thank you speeches?” She asked. “Go on. Go home before I change my mind.”

  Callum ducked his head. “Thank you, Aunt Janai.” He squinted. “I can call you that, right?”

  “Yes,” she deadpanned. “I much rather prefer that over ‘Your Radiance.’

  Callum laughed again, and Janai patted his horse on the flank, urging it on. She grew serious. “Look after each other,” she said. 

  “We’ll write,” he promised. 

  She narrowed her eyes. “You better,” she said, and he could tell there was a hint of teasing in her voice. “Now, get going. I’m serious. It’ll be sunset by the time you head out.” 

  Callum laughed, kicking his horse into a trot. And, just like that, they were off. 

~

They stopped for the night when they found a clearing in the woods. 

  It was nice enough— with tall trees surrounding it, a thick canopy of leaves, but still some holes where you could see the stars. Queen Aanya’s guards insisted she sleep in the middle, where it was safest. She gave in with a sidelong glance at Rayla and Callum as they settled on the edge of the clearing. 

  The others settled around the middle— Ezran going to help Aanya with her bedroll, an amused Corvus watched as Zym attempted to catch a flying leaf, Amaya and Gren signing to each other while Kazi watched their conversation from the side. The guards fanned out to the edges as the sun went down, and Rayla was sure she heard arguing over who was taking first watch. Rayla nearly volunteered herself.

  Once the bickering stopped, they busied themselves with gathering firewood, and Sanaa, one of the Sunfire guards, worked on starting the fire. By the time the moon was rising, they had a well-lit campfire. Then they gathered around and dug into their packs, having meager dinners of traveling protein bars and half-fresh fruit. 

  As the moon rose higher in the sky, they all settled into their respective sleeping spaces. The guards on watch paced the perimeter, staring into the undergrowth almost suspiciously. Rayla unrolled her bedroll next to Callum. They laid further away from everyone else, next to a fallen log that gave them a bit of cover. 

  Callum was sitting on that log now, bent over his sketchbook, sketching the landscape. He usually did so when they were on journeys like this to wind down before sleeping. His sketchbook was littered with sketches of Xadian and Katolian landscapes alike. Rayla sat by his feet, offering a comment on his drawing, telling him he should add a line or shadow. She was cleaning her blades after she had been using them to cut through the overgrowth on the trail all day, using an old rag she found in her bag. 

  They both raised their heads when there was commotion behind them. Ezran stood, holding his bedroll, looking slightly annoyed. “King Ezran,” Aliza, one of the guards, was saying. “You should stay here, close to the fire. It’s safer.”

  Ezran looked over to them, then back to the guard. “I appreciate your concern, but I’ll be fine.”

  The poor Sunfire elf still looked unconvinced. The soldiers of Janai’s army had been jumpy all day, in fact. It seemed they were nervous to be picked for a mission like this, wanting to prove themselves to their queen.

  Rayla sat up, boosting herself onto the log. “Oh, let him go,” she said, waving one of her blades around for emphasis. It glinted in the firelight. “He’ll be fine.”

  Ezran smiled and made his way over, unrolling his bedroll a few feet from them. The guard gave a curt nod, returning to her two other comrades, who were casting wary glances around the clearing, as if half expecting the shadows to come alive. 

  Ezran settled down, sitting cross-legged on his sleeping bag. He grinned at them. “Just like old times,” he said, and Rayla remembered the first few weeks after they met, traveling across the countryside by day and camping out like this during the night. 

  As if on cue, Zym came over, letting out a tired sigh as he circled a spot near Ezran. He laid down, draping his wings over himself like a blanket. He must have been tuckered out from flying all day. 

  Rayla was sore herself. They had alternated between trotting and cantering, with walking and water breaks in between, but she still ached from the saddle. Her legs felt like jelly when she stood too fast. 

  Callum chuckled at Zym’s display of laying down. “He’s got the right idea.” He tucked his sketchbook away in his bag and looked at the both of them. “We should get some rest. We have a long day ahead of tomorrow, and the day after that, and the day after— and you get my point.”

  Rayla internally groaned. 

  “Yay,” Ezran exclaimed, laying down and curling up on his side. “What do you think we’ll see tomorrow? More dead grass?”

  Rayla snorted and reached over to ruffle Ezran’s hair, his crown now laying on the ground beside him. “Goodnight, Ez,” she said. “Don’t let the bedbugs bite.” 

  Ez laughed and swatted her away. “Goodnight, Rayla.”

  “Goodnight,” Callum interjected. She and Callum shuffled over, laying down in their respective sleeping bags. There was silence for a moment— only the crackle of the distant fire, the rustle of the undergrowth, and the shuffling of pillows and blankets. 

  Callum then spoke up. “Wait,” he said. “Are there really bugs that bite here?”

  Rayla audibly sighed. “Go to sleep, Callum.” 

~

The moon was high in the sky when the letter finally arrived. The illusionist and her human companion had long since retired to their chambers. It was pure chance that Runaan had been there to collect it, really. 

  He had been given his own room the first night, the night Rayla left, the room he had mostly stayed during the following days. He was invited to have meals with the two residents of the Nexus, but often declined. The illusionist still came and poked her head at him though, offering him tea, making small talk. It was all poor him and it must be so confusing. 

  Truthfully, he hated it. But a part of him still enjoyed it— having another person nearby, hearing their voice. After two years of no human interaction, it was like some weird fever dream. 

  When he wasn’t having meals outside or sleeping, he found himself walking the grounds, taking it all in. It still felt so strange, like he was experiencing it for the first time again. All the sights, the smells, the sounds. 

  The scent of the flowers. The buzzing of the insects. The calls from the night birds. The rustle of the tree branches. The crunch of grass under his feet. The wind against his cheek. 

  He had been up on an outlook, looking down on the lake, the way the water reflected the moon in rippling waves when the letter arrived. What shocked him more was the bird that carried it— brightly colored, exotic. Xadian. 

  Rayla had briefly caught him up on all that happened since he had been trapped in the coin. He knew the war was over, but it was still weird seeing an Xadian bird delivering a letter in human territory. 

  The bird landed on a stone beside him, perched on the edge. Tentatively, he reached between its talons and pulled out the rolled-up parchment. Once he had it in his hands, the bird squawked once and opened its wings. 

  It flew away, a blur of color, and Runaan quickly lost sight of it against the black night sky. He looked up to the sky, then to the letter in his hand. It had a Lux Aurea seal— where Rayla was headed. He unrolled it carefully and instantly recognized his adoptive daughter’s handwriting. 

  It told him what he already assumed, that she would be returning to Katolis with the mage prince and his brother. She didn’t know when she would be back, or when she could see him again. He had expected it, but he frowned the longer he read on. 

  He had just gotten her back, and already the world was pulling her away again. 

  What he did not expect was the last paragraph. Rayla urged him to return to the Silvergrove without her, to Ethari. Seeing his husband’s name made a pang of hurt run through his chest. There had been a hole in his heart for two years, and everyday the hole got a little bigger. 

  The only thing to fill the hole would be to see his husband again. His husband, who was still waiting for him, who thought he was dead. 

  He finished reading the letter, rubbing his finger over the place Rayla had signed her name. He took a deep breath. He rolled up the parchment, holding it over his chest, over his heart. 

  He looked up at the moon, the same moon that he knew Ethari looked upon too. He bowed his head solemnly, thinking of a small prayer. He hoped the moon shined bright for Ethari, Rayla, and Tiadrin and Lain, whenever they might be. 

  He looked up to the moon and made a sacred vow, a silent promise. Ethari, I’m coming home. 

Chapter Text

It had been two days since they left. 

  The sandy, open fields gave way to foothills, then mountains. They made their way up rocky slopes, through flatlands, through forests, and red canyons, following the flow of the river far below. 

  They took breaks every few hours, dismounting to fill their flasks with fresh water and to let their horses rest and graze. It was about the afternoon she guessed, due to the sun’s position in the sky, when they stopped for the third time that day. They had been riding next to a ravine all day, and finally found a small field on the side to pull off into. 

  The grass was tall and unkempt, growing up to her knees. The sunlight filtered through the blades, blowing in the wind. Birds flitted back and forth in between the treeline. She took a deep breath. This looked like a place to relax. 

  The grass was shot through with weeds— small, yellow flowers. Her horse eyed them eagerly, nickering as she dismounted. She chuckled and gave him a pat on the head, having forgiven him for whacking her with his tail during the whole girth fiasco. She dug through her saddlebag, found her flask, and left him to graze contentedly, swishing his tail back and forth. 

  She found Callum standing by the treeline, looking up at the beaches, hands on his hips. She took a swig of her water bottle, swallowed, and then raised her eyebrows. “Something up there?”

  “They’re apple trees!” Ezran exclaimed, coming up from behind them. He widened his eyes in wonder and Rayla couldn’t help but smile at the sight. He had been so mopey the first few days she almost thought he’d never smile again. “And they’re golden!”

  The others were coming up by now. Queen Aanya came to stand next to Ezran, her gaze going upwards, tailed by her two ever-faithful guards. Gren and Amaya stood to the side. Gren nudged Amaya on the shoulder, pointed to the apples, and then signed something that left Amaya looking amused. 

  The elves in the group looked up, blinked, and then looked away, bored. The Sunfire guards started scouting out the area, always on edge. Fruits such as these were common in Xadia and didn’t gather any attention from the elven side of their traveling party. 

  “Amberglow apples,” Rayla said, and all the humans in the group shifted their gaze to her curiously. “What?” She exclaimed. “You don’t have golden apples?”

  “No,” Callum said. “We have red apples.”

  “Red?” She echoed. “Huh. How odd.”

  “Tell me about it,” Callum grumbled. 

  “Odd?” Ezran repeated, pointing to the tree in front of them. “Your apples are gold! That’s odd!”

  “Yeah,” Rayla grinned, reaching for her back and unsheathing her blades. “You want to try one?”

  Ezran perked up. “Um, yes.”

  Callum nodded along. Even Queen Aanya looked interested, gazing into the tree with a look of curiosity. 

  Rayla quickly climbed the tree trunk, sliding onto the first sturdy branch she could find, easing herself into the leaves. She cut off a bunch of apples by the stems. She quickly tossed them down to Ez and Callum. One bounced against Ezran’s shoulder, and he caught it with a chuckle. Callum reached out to catch his, but missed. It landed with a small thud next to his left foot. Rayla held in her laugh. 

  He frowned, but quickly crouched down and retrieved it, wiping it on his shirt. It still glowed in the sunlight. “Five second rule!” He exclaimed, and Ezran nodded in agreement. 

  Rayla raised an eyebrow, wrinkling her nose. Humans sure had some weird, made-up rules. She leaned forward, balancing carefully, and called down below. “You want one, Queen Aanya?”

  “Sure!” The girl yelled up to her. 

  Rayla nodded and made quick work of cutting through the stems that connected them to the tree of the next bunch. She gathered them in one arm, cradling them to her chest, securing her blades with one arm, and then shimneyed herself backwards, back to the base. She jumped down, bracing for impact, and landed in a low crouch. 

  She smiled, passing one to the young queen of Duren, who grinned back at her. She accepted the yellow apple with a grateful nod. Behind her, one of her guards reached out, putting a hand on her shoulder and stopping it. Aanya’s smile faltered as the guard took the apple and held it up to the sun, inspecting it. 

  Rayla narrowed her eyes. “Do you really think it’s poisoned?” She deadpanned. “It was growing in the wild. On a tree.”

  The guard glanced at her warily, then huffed. He handed the apple back to the queen hastily, then bent over in a half bow. “Apologies, my queen,” he said, casting a questioning side glance in her direction. “Just standard.. precautions.”

  “You’re pardoned,” Aanya replied, though there was a certain edge to her voice. She gestured to the edge of the clearing, where her other guard stood watch. “Why don’t you take a break?”

  The guard looked unnerved at that suggestion, glancing at Rayla again, but nodded and obeyed, stalking off to the side of his comrade. Rayla watched him go with a sour feeling curdling in her stomach. It seemed that no matter what they did, alliances or not, some humans would never come around to trust elves. 

  As soon as he was out of ear shot, Aanya’s calm expression fell, and she sighed. “I apologize. Please excuse Aeden. He’s always been a bit of a.. traditionalist.” 

  “It’s fine,” Rayla assured her. “It takes more than a grumpy human to get under my skin. Or a grumpy glow toad, for that matter. I would know— I’ve traveled with Bait.”

  Aanya chuckled, looking over her shoulder to where Ezran was sitting on a rock, attempting to share an apple with his strange pet. She rolled the fruit over her palm, turning back to Rayla. “Well, thanks for the apple,” she said. “Even if my guards insist that they’re poisoned.” 

  Rayla winked. “Of course, Your Majesty,” she replied, then turned on her heel to find Callum. 

  She clutched the rest of the apples to her chest, pausing to offer them to the others. The guards were too busy glaring into the trees to pay much mind to her. Corvus took one to tuck into his bag for later and Zym wolfed down two. Amaya shook her head when she offered one to her, and Rayla shrugged. She must’ve grown accustomed to Xadian foods during her time in the settlement. Unlike his general, Gren did take one, almost eagerly. He bit into it, sending Rayla a thumbs up, to which Amaya rolled her eyes and began to walk the perimeter like the other guards. 

  Rayla watched them go, then turned to look for Callum. He was still standing under the tree, working on his apple. He looked up when she came up beside him, mid bite, juice dripping down his chin. “‘His is gfoof,” he said, his mouth full. 

  “Close your mouth, Callum,” she chided playfully. “No one wants to see that.” 

  He clamped his mouth shut, mumbling a muffled sorry, and continued chewing loudly. Rayla turned her head when she heard voices to her right. She spun to see Ezran and Aanya sitting together, laughing as Bait gobbled up his piece of apple. Rayla smirked and elbowed Callum in the rib.

  “Ow!” He whispered fiercely, rubbing at the spot. He swallowed the bite of his apple and then followed her gaze. When he saw the two young monarchs together, he also grinned. 

  Rayla leaned in, wiping a clump of goop off his cheek. He hummed. “Thanks.”

  “Of course,” she replied. “Can’t let his distinguished highness walk around with his lunch on his face.”

  He rolled his eyes. “What would I do without you?”

  Rayla laughed, her touch lingering a moment longer than necessary. She leaned in, breath tickling his cheek. He promptly bit into the apple again, and Rayla pulled back in surprise, frowning deeply. “Gross,” she muttered bitterly. 

  “What?” He said innocently, muffled. “It’s good.” 

  She sighed and turned away. She found her horse over by Ezran and Aanya; animals tended to drift towards Ezran anyway, but the apple he had in his hands definitely helped. She patted him on the muzzle, then tucked the rest of the apples into her saddlebag. They would make a nice treat for later. 

  “The horses can have these, right?” Ezran clarified, currently being nuzzled by Aanya’s snow white mare. He laughed as she rubbed against his shoulder, nosing his pockets for treats. Slowly, he took the apple out and presented it to the mare, who pricked her ears forward in interest. He held his hand out flat and she quickly bit into it. 

  “No,” Rayla deadpanned, pausing as she buckled her saddlebag. “Amberglow apples are highly toxic to equine species. They kill unicorns every year.”

  Ezran snapped his head towards her, eyes wide in alarm. His jaw went slack in surprise. 

  Rayla rolled her eyes, biting into her own apple. “Moons, I’m joking,” she said. “Knock yourself out.”

~

They kept traveling until nightfall. 

  It was by sunset by the time she realized Ezran was falling behind. He usually rode up front, where his aunt and the other guards could keep an eye on him. He had ridden next to Aanya or Corvus most of the trip, watching the sky for Zym, or taking some time alone to think. Occasionally, he would pull up next to her or Callum, asking how they were or pointing out a certain landmark that reminded him of past travels. 

  Aanya was riding beside them now, exchanging pleasantries with her and Callum. She asked Rayla questions about Xadia, about her childhood. Callum asked about things in Duren, and somehow the subject magically changed into asking about the libraries of Duren, ranting about how he should visit sometime and see if they had any interesting spellbooks. She nearly rolled her eyes. 

  She turned her head and realized Ezran had fallen significantly behind. She cleared her throat and politely excused herself from the conversation, pulling back on her reins. She slowed to a snail walk until Ezran inevitably caught up to her.

  He looked up in surprise when he saw her. “Oh, hey, Rayla,” he said, and his voice was shaky, heavy. 

  “Hey, Ez,” she replied. She looked around them. “What are you doing down here?”

  He sighed softly. “Just needed a moment.”

  Rayla hummed, raising an eyebrow. “Well, you’re missing a very riveting conversation about dusty old books.”

  Ezran chuckled, but didn’t reply. The silence stretched on between them just like the road ahead of them. Only the steps of hooves against dirt and the occasional heavy breathing of one of the horses broke it. 

  “What’s on your mind?” Rayla gently poked. 

  Ezran sighed again. “It’s nothing.”

  “It’s not nothing,” she replied. “There’s a reason you’re not up there. You’re usually the one making conversation, which is a good thing,” she added. “Or else I’d go half mad with hearing your brother recite poems about the ocean.” 

  Ezran chuckled again, then fell serious. He clutched his reins, causing his horse to grunt and flick its ears back. “It’s just..” he trailed off. “We’re nearing the Seal.”

  Rayla nodded in understanding. The Seal, what was left of what used to be the Breach. It was one of two ways in and out of Xadia, on land that was, and definitely the easiest of the two options. They expected to be there at the end of day tomorrow, and then it was just another few days to Katolis. 

  They were getting close. 

  Rayla felt a prick of anticipation and dread all at the same time. “How are you feeling?” She asked the younger boy. 

  “Honestly? I don’t know. It’s.. complicated. Like a big jumble of emotions,” he explained. “Sad. Mad. But mostly scared.” 

  “Scared of what?” Rayla echoed, though it was a stupid question. What wasn’t there to be scared of these days? 

  “How bad it’s gonna be,” Ezran answered quietly. “We haven’t even seen it yet, and I’m afraid..” He hung his head, swallowing thickly. “I’m afraid I won’t do the right thing. I already let my people down. What if I keep letting them down?” 

  “Ez,” she said softly. 

  “I know it’s stupid,” he continued, eyes watery. “I just lost everything, and I’m worried about what people think of me.”

  “No, it’s not,” Rayla insisted. “You have a right to feel whatever you want. Something horrible just happened, and there is no way to just.. get over such a thing. Anything you feel is valid. It’s better than feeling nothing at all. It doesn’t make you weak, or stupid. It makes you strong. Feeling so deeply only means you care. You care enough to feel for others, to want to do something about it.”

  She reached out, touching her hand to Ezran’s. “You’re not stupid, Ez, and you never have been. You’re one of the smartest people I know, and if you keep talking down on yourself, I will tell your aunt,” she threatened teasingly, then smiled at him. “Besides, you should listen to me. I’m very smart.”

  Ezran hummed, starting to smile himself. “Uh huh.”

  “Your brother says so,” Rayla added defensively. 

  “My brother might be a little biased.” 

  Rayla grinned. “Not at all.”

  There was silence for a moment as they rode, then Ezran cleared his throat. “Rayla?” 

  She perked up. “Yeah?”

  “Thank you,” he said, eyes grateful. He wiped his face with the crook of his arm. “You know, you’re a great sister.”

  Rayla nearly jolted at that word. Yes, she had viewed Ezran as her sort-of-little-brother for years now, and treated him as such, and definitely loved him like a big sister, but she had never acknowledged it aloud. 

  “Thanks,” she said slowly, squinting. “But I’m technically not your sister.”

  “Yet,” Ezran added, smug. He made it obvious, looking between her and Callum, who was still riding ahead. 

  Rayla often forgot this side of the young king. Well, two could play at that game. She raised her eyebrows. “So,” she said smoothly. “How about you and a certain queen of Duren?”

  He only frowned and prodded at his horse, trotting away. Got you, Rayla thought, satisfied. 

~

They found a cave to spend the night in. It was a respectable cave, at least. 

  It was comfortable enough. They tied their horses outside, unrolled their bedrolls, and built a fire near the mouth of the cave for light and warmth. They were up higher than they were the last few nights and there was a breeze tonight, so it was a bit colder. They quickly ate and settled into bed, tired by days of traveling. 

  The guards took post at the entrance, cleaning and sharpening blades. The glint caught in the firelight, catching Rayla’s eye. She turned over, snuggling into Callum, who laid on his side, half heartedly flipping through his sketchbook. 

  He raised an eyebrow, sending her a questioning look. Her face went warm and she scowled at him. “What? It’s for warmth!” She exclaimed. 

  He rolled his eyes, tossing his sketchbook aside and laying down next to her. “Yeah,” he said. “For warmth.”

  Rayla protested as he pulled the blanket over the both of them. “I didn’t say it like that.” 

  He quieted her with a kiss to her forehead. “You did, but okay.”

  “You stupid human,” she quipped. 

  “Wow,” he said sarcastically. “I love you too, Ray.”

  A tired voice came from the darkness behind them. “Guys, please,” Ezran said. “I’m right here.”

  Callum could feel Rayla grin. “Sorry, Ez. Goodnight.”

  “Goodnight,” Ez called weakly.

  Callum smiled to himself and pulled Rayla closer. She curled into the dip of his body, like a missing puzzle piece. 

  He drifted off to sleep very quickly. 

~

Less than an hour later, Callum awoke to the sound of a scream. 

Chapter Text

“Anytime now,” he repeated for the third time that hour. “Anytime.”

  The guard next to him, bent over to tie his boots, lifted his head. “What was that, sir?”

  Soren lifted his own head. “Oh, nothing! Just talking to myself. Again.” 

  The guard beside him shook his head, muttered something to himself, and went back to tying his boot. Soren stood a few feet from the canteen, the camp’s food preparation area, his arms crossed. He was waiting for somebody. 

  It was late morning by then, and a few stragglers were still getting their morning meal. They sat in groups, hunched over their now-cold breakfast. An older woman was serving herself soup. In the corner, a father wiped his daughter’s cheek, which was crusted with crumbs. 

  Soren had his eyes fixed on the nearest tent, which was their undesignated kitchen, where most of the food was kept and prepared.  The next time he looked over, he saw the person he had been waiting for. 

  “Barius!” Soren exclaimed, jogging over to the man as he left the tent, wiping his hands on his shirt. 

  “Soren,” Barius replied, dipping his head politely. “Good morning.”

 “Good morning,” Soren said as cheerfully as possible. He looked up at the sky— still gray, but he swore there were hints of blue if he squinted enough. The smell of smoke had shifted significantly too. “The sky is looking clearer, isn’t it?”

  The baker looked up, cupping a hand over his eyes, and then grinned. “Well, I think so!” He then turned to Soren. “So, what brings you over here? I mean, besides the great meals. Are you here to call another secret meeting?”

  “Oh, no,” Soren said, frowning. “Opeli said no more.” 

  Barius grunted. “Well, for the record, I enjoyed them. They gave me some excitement. Sometimes being in the kitchen all day can get boring.”

  “Noted,” Soren smiled. “But I’m actually here for a favor.”

  Barius tilted his head, his eyes shining in a mischievous way. “What kind of favor?”

  Soren looked around them, checking their surroundings, and then leaned forward and whispered into the other man’s ear, detailing his plans. The baker nodded along, grinning by the time Soren pulled away. 

  “Well,” he said. “I think I can do that!”

  Soren gave him a sharp nod and they separated at the next turn. Barius wandered back to the canteen, possibly to start on the surprise, and Soren watched him go, feeling accomplished. 

  Soren, satisfied, returned to his post next to another guard, who sent him a curious glance. “Anytime now,” he repeated to himself. 

  “Whatever you say, sir.” 

~

Callum startled awake, instantly jerking upright. He turned to his left to see Rayla still laying down, curled up in a fetal position. Her face was twisted in a visceral expression, her eyebrows quivering. Sweat beaded on her pale forehead. Her mouth twitched open and closed, as if she were trying to say something.

  Two Sunfire guards near the entrance tensed, drawing their blades. Their enchanted swords sparked in the lowlight. Callum held up his hand and saw it was shaking. He flashed them a stop motion. “It’s alright!” He whispered fiercely over Rayla’s whimpering. “She’s just having a nightmare.”

  The guards looked at each other, then withdrew their swords. They took a few steps back and gave them some privacy, turning their backs on them. Thankfully, the others were scattered further around the cave, and seemed to have not been woken up. 

  Callum took a deep breath, steadying himself. There was a shuffle as Ezran sat up, his hair ruffled, rubbing his eyes. “Callum?” He called weakly, throat dry. 

  “It’s alright, Ez,” he called back, crawling over to Rayla. She had rolled away from him in her sleep. “Rayla’s having a bad dream.” 

  Ezran’s face contorted in worry, ever the empath. “Is she okay?”

  “I have it handled,” he replied. “Go back to bed.”

  With a frown, Ezran complied, rolling back over. With that sorted, Callum turned his attention to Rayla, who was still curled up in a ball. He now saw she was shaking, her arms crossed over herself defensively, her hand clutching her arms, nails digging into her flesh, leaving tiny pink indents. 

  Callum’s heart twisted in his chest. Her cries were pitiful, worrying. He placed a hand on her shoulder, finding she was cold. He gently shook her. “Rayla,” he whispered. 

  She seemed to flinch at his touch. Her eyebrows furrowed, her lips twisted wordlessly. She let out another loud, strangled cry. 

  He widened his eyes. It was only getting worse. He had to wake her up. He shook her harder, cupping a warm hand to her cheek. “Rayla,” he said. “It’s me. Rayla, wake up. Come on. It’s a bad dream.”

  Another cry. 

  “Rayla!” He hissed. 

  Her eyes flew open, eyelashes fluttered. She laid on her back, gasping up at the rocky ceiling above, catching her breath. A drop of sweat dripped down her neck. Her gaze flickered between Callum and the ceiling. Slowly, her hand came up, finding his hand where it was pressed to her cheek. She squeezed it with a concerning ferocity. 

  “It was a bad dream,” Callum repeated, eyes narrowed in concern. 

  “Callum,” she managed, still gasping for fresh air. 

  “I’m here,” he soothed. 

  “Callum,” she said again, voice breaking. 

  Callum felt his heart squeeze painfully. It was always hard to see like this. None of them were strangers to nightmares the last few years. Callum had comforted her like this many times before, and surely would again. Rayla had comforted himself and Ezran before, and even Soren from time to time. 

  “It’s okay,” he tried to comfort her. He reached out, placing his other hand on her shoulder. 

  She only closed her eyes, beginning to shake her head, as if saying no, it’s not. Callum furrowed his brow in confusion, not sure what to say. Wordlessly, he opened his arms, and, in now time, found his elven companion wrapped in his fierce embrace. 

  She rested her head against his chest, listening to his heartbeat like her own private lullaby. She felt her slump over, sighing softly. He held her tight, never wanting to let go. He didn’t know how long they sat there like that— speaking the language of no words at all, but a language of physical touch, of silent love. 

  “What was it?” He asked softly a moment later, voice muffled against her scalp. Stray strands of hair blew back. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

  She shook her head, cheek squished against his body. “My parents,” was all she said, a low whisper. Her voice cracked. He strained to hear her. 

  Callum held her tighter. 

  He could feel her start to cry, to hunch over. Crying, he realized with a jolt. She sniffled, trying to silence herself with a knuckle to her mouth. Callum pulled away, holding her at arm’s length, hands on her shoulder. He looked down at her, squinting in concern, and she looked up at him, lilac eyes swimming with tears. Their eyes met, and the dam broke. 

  She barreled into him, burying herself into the book of his shoulder. He could do nothing but wrap his arms around her and rub comforting circles on her back, hoping, praying, he could offer her the solace she so desperately needed. 

  This time, he was the one to hold her as she cried. 

~

Janai awoke in a cold, empty bed for the first time in many weeks. 

  The sunlight streamed in, hitting her in her line of sight. She blinked back sleep and rolled over, fighting the urge to reach over. Her fingers met empty, silken sheets. Amaya was gone, on her way to Katolis. It was a bitter reminder. 

  She grabbed a fistful of it in her hand, straining. She blinked. She sighed. 

  Taking a moment, she closed her eyes, then opened them. She sat up and swung her legs to the other side of the bed. Amaya being here or not, she was queen. She had things to do, duties she couldn’t put off. 

  She had a long day ahead of her. She had many things to do, meetings to attend, letters and forms to overview. She bit back another sigh. It seemed everyday was a long day. 

  She got up and pacing the expanse of the bed. She fixed the sheets and pillows. She noticed the bed was notably neater than when Amaya was sleeping next to her. Her wife had a tendency of tossing and turning, twisting the sheets and kicking pillows away. She smiled to herself, finishing making the bed. Someone else could do it, but there were still things she insisted on doing herself. 

  She went to the wash basin and dipped her hands into the cold water, washing her face. She dressed for the day, taking her time putting on each piece of armor. Once she was done pulling on her armor, she sat and ate, taking a moment to breathe. She sipped on tea, the warmth washing down her throat. 

  She mentally went through her responsibilities for the day. She had a meeting with one of her councilors in an hour’s time. Uriel. He was an older man— wise, experienced, but he had a habit of going off on a tangent about unrelated matters. 

  Her head felt heavy at the prospect. She pinched at her temples, feeling a headache coming on. No longer hungry, she left her meal half-finished. She downed the rest of her tea and left the dishes gathered together on the tabletop. 

  She made her way over to the mirror, where the crown rested on the small table next to it. She studied her reflection for a moment, face pinched. She pulled her braids back into a knot, keeping them out of her face, then reached for the crown. It felt heavier in her hands than most days. 

  She gazed down at it for a moment, studying it. Carefully, she used her finger to wipe at a smudge in its golden, gleaming surface. She sighed, squaring her shoulders, and mentally preparing herself for the day ahead of her. 

  She was about to place the crown atop her head when there was a loud knock from outside, followed by an exclamation and the rustle of the entrance flaps. A guard hurried in, not even waiting for her cue to come in. She was wide-eyed and out of breath. She came to stand behind the queen, bowing over and clutching her knees for support.   

  Janai looked at her through the mirror, puzzled. She looked like she had seen a ghost. 

  Janai turned to face the guard, reaching to place the crown on her head. She raised an eyebrow. “What’s got you in such a hurry?” 

  “My Queen,” the guard choked out, voice tight with anxiety. “There’s something you should see.” 

Chapter Text

It was nearly nightfall by the time they reached the encampment. 

  She had drained the last of her water the last hour or so of riding. Her throat was dry. Her muscles were sore and stiff. Their horses were tired, but they kept on. They were so close. 

  When they reached the edge of the treeline, the end of the forest they had been traversing in for the last day, and the opening of the clearing, her heart beat faster in her chest. She could see the outline of tents in the distance, white against the hues of reds and oranges of the sky, and the tell-tale sounds of people. 

  When they made it halfway across the field, she couldn’t help herself any longer. She kicked her house into a gallop, kicking up dust. From the sounds behind her, she could tell the others were quickly following suit. Ezran and Callum quickly caught up to her side and she grinned at them. 

  They pulled to a halt at the entrance of the camp. Three guards had been sitting around a small fire, playing a game of cards. They looked up in surprise, then quickly recognized their king and prince, and jumped up, cards forgotten, lay scattered across the dirt. One ran to tell the others, and other two swarmed them, mumbling welcomes and insisting on taking their horses. 

  Rayla gave her mount one last pat and dismounted, landing on her feet and frowning. She was definitely not riding for a long time after this. She swore she heard her horse let out a sigh of relief as she slid off his back. Callum dismounted after her, followed by Ezran. They all came to stand together, looking around. 

  The camp had been constructed in an open field. To the east was the small town of Wyver, a sprinkling of black and gray, and to the west the mountains rose up into the still-gray sky. The rest was all open fields and cloudy skies. Rayla sniffed, inhaling deeply. The closer they had gotten, the smokier it had gotten. It was faint, but still there. 

  She turned to see Ezran looking around, frowning at the hints of gray of the sky despite the sunset. It was a lot to take in, and they weren’t even at the ruins of the castle yet. She nudged his shoulder with her elbow, drawing his attention. She offered him a small smile and he flashed her a grateful look, adjusting his crown when it had gotten crooked from the bumpy ride. 

  The others were arriving from behind them as a surge of guards and council members came forward to greet them. Amaya, Corvus, and Gren came forward first, followed by everyone else. Aanya and her guards hung to the side, looking like they felt a bit out of place. Everyone dismounted and handed their reins over to a guard, who led the horses away to be washed and fed. 

  As soon as everyone was on the ground, the familiar faces were pushing to the front of the crowd. Soren was jogging up to meet them, a big smile on his face. Opeli and Barius stood among the crowd— Barius looked pleased, smiling, and Opeli just looked relieved. 

  Soren made it over to them, and before she could blink, the three of them were crushed into a hug by the crownguard. He nearly picked them up off the ground, squeezing them. “I’m so glad you’re okay!” He exclaimed, although Rayla could hardly hear him over the roar of blood in her ears. “Argh, bring it in!”

  Ezran laughed while Callum groaned. “Missed you too, Soren!” He yelped, managing. 

  “Yes, we missed ya, can you please put us down now?” Rayla said through gritted teeth. 

  Her feet touched the ground again and she breathed a sigh of relief. Soren was grinning at all of them, his gaze going to Ezran. “You okay? That was a long ride, after all.”

  “You don’t say,” Callum mumbled, rubbing at his bottom. Rayla rolled her eyes and bumped her shoulder with his. 

  “I’m okay,” Ezran replied, not meeting Soren’s eyes. “As okay as can be.” He didn’t elaborate and only reached out to hug his friend again. Soren looked concerned, exchanging glances with Rayla and Callum. 

  By the time they pulled apart, a sudden gust of wind ruffled their hair as Zym descended, followed by Corvus. Soren let out a whoop, sidestepped the dragon prince, and literally swept Corvus off his feet, bundling him into a hug. Zym looked partially offended, huffing, and Ezran reached out to place a hand on his wing blade. 

  Rayla raised her eyebrows as the two men greeted each other so excitedly, talking over one another in an attempt to catch each other up on the past week’s events. She looked at Callum, who shrugged, but Ezran wore a knowing grin, albeit a small one. 

  Once they were done, Soren turned to Zym. “And there he is!” He exclaimed. “My favorite prince!” He sent Callum a side glance. “No offense, step-mage.”

  Callum squinted at that. “None taken.” 

  “King Ezran,” a voice said from behind them. They all turned to see Opeli walking closer, her arms crossed. 

  “Hey, Opeli,” Callum said. Rayla offered her a small wave, still not very fond of the High Cleric. Barius followed after her and he offered her a grin in which she returned. The tiny Baitlings were on his shoulders, scampering around at all the excitement. Stella, still tucked onto Rayla’s side bag, perked up. 

  “Hey,” Ezran said, starting to smile at seeing so many familiar faces. Opeli looked over them all like she was studying them. Once she saw there were no physical differences, she let out a long breath, her shoulders loosening. Rayla realized just how worried she looked, although, in her defense, Opeli usually looked that way. 

  Opeli looked at Ezran the longest, as if testing if he were real, then placed a hand on his shoulder, squeezing tentatively. “I think I speak for all of Katolis,” she began. “When I welcome you. We’re glad to have you back.”

  “We sure are!” Soren said, slinging an arm around Ezran and already leading him further into camp. “Now, who wants cake?!”

  “You have cake?” Ezran echoed. 

  “Well, not really,” Barius said from his other side. “Soren wanted to do something nice for when you all came back, but we only had normal bread.”

  “But when it’s dipped in honey and sprinkled with sugar, you won’t know the difference,” Soren added excitedly. “Come on. You have to try it.”

  Soren grabbed Ezran’s arm and dragged him away, causing Barius to furrow his eyebrows in concern and Opeli to length her stride. “Soren!” She said rather loudly. “We have things to discuss! You can’t just run off with the king!” 

  Rayla shook her head and found Callum’s hand at his side, taking it in her own. He turned to her then, seeing her far off look and wrinkled nose. “What?” He prompted.

  “Nothing,” she replied. “Just missed this.”

  He smiled at her, and she smiled back. With that, they joined the rest of their party as they trailed further into camp.

~

Soren found Corvus later that night, after Ezran’s impromptu welcome party. The sky was dark by then, the only sources of light the lanterns hanging outside tents and the occasional bonfire. Corvus was sitting at one of the tables set up outside the canteen, alone. 

  Most of the traveling party had retired early, exhausted by the journey. After a quick briefing with the High Council, followed by Rayla and Callum’s commentary of all that had happened, the trio had gone off to bed too. They had assigned their new guests— Queen Aanya and her escorts, Sunfire Army soldiers sent by Queen Janai, General Amaya and Commander Gren, and a scholar and lone architect from Lux Aurea— tents for the night, with more to discuss the next morning. Soren had left the tent to Opeli pacing and nearly pulling out her hair when she found out the High Mage and Rayla were back together. Barius tried to calm her, but it was no use. She had gone off about teenage hormones and how they were forbidden to share a tent. 
  Soren had grinned upon learning the two were finally back together, and grinned later when he saw Rayla slipping into Callum’s tent anyway. Yeah, nothing could seem to keep those two apart. 

  It had been a long week, but Soren was just glad Ezran was back. 

  He had been noticeably happier the last few hours, walking around camp with a pep in his step and whistling a tune. The rumor that the king was back had already sparked, being spread around like a hot potato. For the first time in days, people were looking somewhat hopeful. Ezran planned to address them tomorrow, but for now needed his rest, leaving Soren with nothing to do. 

  That was how he ended up back at the canteen, wandering the camp, looking for any sign of trouble. There hadn’t been much trouble, only the occasional noise disturbance or squabble over the last good piece of food.

  Soren spotted Corvus, changed his course, and came to sit next to him. “Did you not want dessert?” He said as he slid into the seat next to him. “Because we’re calling it honey-sugar-bread, and it’s pretty good, if I do say so myself.”

  Corvus snorted. “How original.”

  “Well,” Soren said, raising his eyebrows. “Do you have any name suggestions?”

  Corvus sent him a look that was half amused, half serious. “I missed you,” he said. 

  Soren squinted. “That’s kind of a random suggestion, but I could make it work—“ Soren began, and Corvus sent him a flat look. “Anddd you didn’t mean the bread.”

  Corvus shook his head. “You’re an idiot sometimes.”

  “Yeah, sometimes, not most of the time,” Soren replied. 

  Corvus nodded along, laughing. “Is that much better?” 

  “I’d say so,” Soren hummed, then leaned over and punched Corvus in the shoulder. “And, I missed you too, by the way.”

  Corvus smiled at him. They were silent for a while, listening to the sounds of the camp at night, but even the silence between them was enough. 

~  

They led her to a body. 

  She had followed behind the guard that had come to her tent, falling into a fast walk, sensing the apparent urgency of the situation. They had led her to the edge of camp, where the living spaces of many of the humans and elves were.

  Right then, the space seemed to be cleared. Several guards, more than necessary, stood around. Behind them, confused citizens tried to look around them, trying to catch a peek. Children peered around the flap of a nearby tent and Janai watched as their mother came, scolding them and pulling the flaps shut. 

  The guards eyed her nervously as she walked down the row that was cleared for her, dipping their heads. Most civilians bowed. Others were so transfixed on the scene that they couldn’t look away. 

  She stopped, coming to stand in front of the gathered crowd. She followed their gaze to where a group of soldiers stood in front of a white canvas tarp laid out on the ground. 

  Her heart dropped when she realized it was a crumpled shape of a body sprawled out under it. 

  She spun to the guard nearest to her, filled with so many questions. Who was it? How did this happen? When was the body discovered? Was it natural causes? An attack?

  “It’s a dog,” the guard next to her deadpanned. 

  She narrowed her eyes, squinted. “What?” 

  “Trust me, Your Majesty,” he replied. “You’ll want to see this. It’s very.. strange.” 

  Crossing her arms, she reluctantly agreed. She followed him over to the body, waiting for the two other soldiers to pick up the corners of the tarp and unveil the body. As soon as the tarp was removed, her heart dropped for the second time that morning. 

  The dog was big, with black fur and pointed ears, but that wasn’t significant. It was the torn flesh, the maggots buried into its hide, and the black, sticky mystery liquid that covered his various wounds— the most prominent one being on his neck. A bite wound of some sorts. Flies swarmed the air, buzzing. The smell of rot overhung the space. 

  The corpse was rotting, decaying. Its skin was growing thin, the ribs poking through. How had a dead body been left on the streets for so long? 

  Janai looked away, no longer able to bear the sight. She felt nauseous. It was revolting. Why were they showing her this? 

  “My Queen,” a voice from behind her said. She turned her head and saw a short human woman with tanned skin and brown hair. She was bowing, not meeting Janai’s eyes. 

  “You may stand,” Janai said, and the woman stood up straight, still not meeting the queen’s gaze. 

  “If you don’t mind my asking,” Janai began. “Who are you?” 

  “My name is Rayne, Your Majesty,” she said softly. “Before this,” she gestured to the camp around them. “I was a veterinarian.”

  “An animal doctor,” Janai said, raising an eyebrow. 

  “Um, yeah,” the woman sputtered, shifting her weight from foot to foot. “You could say that.”

  Janai flicked her hand. “Very well. You may examine it.”

  The woman nodded, immediately nodding and bending over to start her work. Janai watched her curiously as she examined the bite wound, the animal's snout, and even leaned forward, pressing on the body as if testing for muscle reflex. 

  Janai circled the animal, swatting away a stray fly. The wind shifted, and she caught a whiff of something rotten. She nearly gagged, kicking at the animal’s hide with the toe of her boot. “The decay, the smell,” she said slowly. “This animal has to have been dead for at least a week.”

  Rayne ceased her work, pausing. She looked up and met Janai’s gaze for the first time. Her eyes were unreadable, her jaw set. “No, my queen,” she said softly. “This animal has been dead for a few hours at most.”

  The words rang in her head. A few hours? She swallowed thickly. “How is that possible? How do you know it’s only been that long?” 

  “The body is still awfully warm, close to its normal body temperature, suggesting recent death,” she started to explain. “The body is still pliable, only partially stiff, this indicates that rigor mortis has not fully developed. I’ve checked for the initial signs of autolysis, and they are minimal. The internal breakdown has only just begun. The maggots are still in an early-stage. They couldn’t have been feeding for long.”

  Janis stepped away from the body, feeling a sense of horror wash over her. Rayne stood up from her crouched position, wiping her hands on her shirt. She looked up at the gray morning sky above them. “The body was not found in an extreme environment. Factors like heat or humidity couldn’t have progressed it like this,” she said carefully, then pointed to the wound at the neck. “There’s still blood on the wound. Dried, but recent. This animal was killed last night— my best guess.”

  Janai blinked harshly. “But it’s.. it’s half decayed.”

  Rayne hummed, bending over the neck. She examined the bite wound, running a finger over the black, coarse hair. “Maybe it has to do with the location of the bite.”

  “How so?” Janai questioned, crossing her arms. She wanted to get away from here as soon as possible. 

  “He was bitten on the neck, next to some major arteries. The bite is closer to the heart than, say if he was bitten on the leg. The infection would be carried through the bloodstream much quicker,” she explained, still sounding unsure. 

  “Infection?” Janai repeated. 

  “That’s the only way I can explain it,” Rayne replied. “It’s like it’s been.. cursed. There’s a certain darkness in him, and it’s eating him from the inside out.” She paused, rubbing her hands together uncomfortably. “It’s.. swallowing him.” 

  Infection. Curse. Darkness. Swallowing. 

  The thoughts swirled in her head. Janai held a hand to her temple, her head pounding. She felt unsteady, swaying on her feet. Her vision blurred, swimming. 

  The veterinarian prodded at the wound with her foot, letting out a soft gasp as the body rolled away at her touch. They could now see cleaner the black, tar-like substance that had been coated in the wound. It mixed with the blood, creating a dark, oozing liquid. It dripped onto the dead grass, a stark contrast against the dried tan. 

  Rayne looked over her shoulder, fixing Janai with a look of pure terror. “There’s something wrong here,” she exclaimed. “Whatever happened to this animal, whatever it is, something bit it.” She paused, opening and closing her jaw. “It’s spreading.” 

Chapter Text

This morning was the first time he woke up in an actual bed, not on a thin roll on the hard ground. 

  A part of him was glad to be back. The other part of him was glad to be off the road. As much as he loved the destination, he hated traveling. The saddle sores, the sleeping on the ground, their cryptic elven escorts. But being by Rayla’s side, waking up next to her, didn’t make it all that bad. 

  Technically, she wasn’t supposed to be waking up next to him, not this morning anyway. 

  Opeli had insisted on giving her her own tent. Rayla had given in to the idea, if only to stop the woman from going off on a rant about how they didn’t need any new members of the royal family. She had made a show of dumping her few personal belongings in her tent, then went with Callum, hand in hand, as soon as it got dark, giggling the whole time. 

  Oh, well, what the High Cleric didn’t know couldn’t kill her. Though, Rayla insisted, finding them in the same bed would probably kill her. 

  Callum shrugged in reply. It was a problem for another day. 

  So, by the time Rayla stirred next to him, rolling over and snuggling into his side, he knew he never wanted this to end. He wanted to stay here, wrapped in this warmth, in this bed with Rayla. To ignore all that had happened, to pretend the world outside didn’t exist. To take a second and just breathe and just be.  

  “I know I’m still half asleep right now,” he told her as she blinked up at him. “But have I told you how beautiful you look this morning?”

  She snickered softly. She shifted, moving to grab a pillow and whack him with it gently. “You’re just saying that to avoid getting out of bed, aren’t you?”

  “Nope,” he replied indifferently, popping the p. 

  Rayla promptly hit him with the pillow again. 

  “What?” He yelped, playing innocent. “It’s true!”

  “Don’t get any ideas, Mister Mage,” Rayla proclaimed dramatically, looking down on him. She sat up while he was still sprawled out across the bed. 

  “Ideas?” He echoed. “Pfft, you’re the one who’s bringing up ideas. But, what could these ideas pertain to, just asking?”

  Rayla smirked and rolled her eyes. She slowly got off Callum and slid onto the floor, picking up her items of clothing and pulling them on over the under clothes she slept in. 

  “Rayla,” he said, and she turned her head towards him as she pulled on her vest. 

  Callum looked at her in bewilderment. They had just trekked halfway across a country and she still wanted to get up early? Maybe it was a Moonshadow thing. 

  “Rayla,” he said again

  “Come on, Callum,” she prompted. “We should get a head start on things. We have lots to discuss, and we should get some breakfast before it gets too crowded.”

  Callum flicked his hand. “I could just get someone to bring us something here.”

  Rayla raised an eyebrow. “Oh, forgive me, pampered princess, I forgot about your breakfast-in-bed privileges.”

  Callum frowned, sitting up. “Fine. Breakfast at the canteen it is. But do we have to leave now?” 

  “Yes,” Rayla said sharply, already finishing up lacing up her boots, leaning on the edge of the bed. 

  “Soren’s soggy sugar bread?” Callum questioned. 

  “He was trying to be nice,” Rayla said, and it said a lot. She was usually the one teasing Soren. 

  “Yeah,” Callum considered. “And it still managed to taste better than our traveling rations.” 

  “I want to take a bath too. I haven’t properly bathed in, like, a week.” She paused to sniff at her shirt, and then gagged. Standing up, she looked back to Callum, tilting her head. “Are you coming or not?”

  Callum furrowed his eyebrows. “To your bath?”

  Rayla looked at him incredulously. “No, dummy. To breakfast, where we keep our clothes on.”

  Callum only furrowed his eyebrows deeper. “Huh. That somehow implies there’s a breakfast where we don’t keep our clothes on—“

  Rayla groaned and grabbed his hand. He was quite literally dragged out of bed by his annoyed.. girlfriend? They hadn’t even talked about labels yet. All he knew was they were together again, and that they loved each other— that they always had, for that matter. 

  Callum somehow landed on his feet, jumping up and looking at Rayla as she threw his jacket at him. He caught it in midair, grinning. 

  Rayla squinted at him. “What are you smiling about now?”

  “I just love you,” he replied. 

  “This better not be a ploy to get me to stay in bed with you!” Rayla fired back. “We have things to do, mister!”

  “What? No! I really do just love you!” He exclaimed.  

  She paused, studying him with one raised eyebrow, then dropping it. “Well,” she said, leaning in and pressing a kiss to his cheek. “I love you too.” 

  She wrinkled her nose as she pulled away and it was Callum’s turn to question her. “What is it?” He asked. 

  “You should probably take a bath too,” she deadpanned. “You smell.”

  With that, she clapped him on the shoulder and walked away, leaving him to dress. He snorted. “What a way with words you have,” he said. 

  “Not all of us can recite poetry all day long,” she replied, halfway out the tent. “And, hurry up!”   

  Callum huffed, but obliged. It looked to be another long day ahead of them.  

~

The forests in Xadia were just as beautiful as he remembered them. Well, anything could really be seen as beautiful after almost three years of living in a coin. 

  It was nightfall by the time Runaan reached the forest that contained the passage into the Silvergrove. He looked around, his pack weighing heavily on his shoulders— upon his departure, Lujanne had insisted on packing him the essentials for his trip. He had left the Nexus days ago, giving a grateful nod to the illusionist and her human. They had made his brief stay there as comfortable as possible. 

  The journey back to the Silvergrove was faster on a shadowpaw, a few days or so, and longer on foot. He guessed he had been walking for about a week now, give or take. But he was close, and he knew it. He felt it.

  As he stopped for the night, he looked around at the familiar surroundings, taking it all in. She really was alive. He really was going home. 

  He shook out of his thoughts, getting to work. He gathered firewood, making a small fire for light. He ate a small meal of fruits and dried jerky, the type he was afraid to ask Lujanne what kind of meat it was. He unrolled his bedroll and laid on his back, gazing up into the thick canopy of leaves above. The noises of the woods around him and the crackle of the fire urged him to close his eyes. 

  By this time the next day, he’d be reunited with his husband. He fell asleep with nice thoughts warming his mind. 

~

Janai spent the better part of the next hour pacing her tent.

  The image of the carcass wouldn’t leave her mind— the huddled shape, the dark, oozing liquid. She knew what it was. Some sort of curse, dark magic. Corruption. It was the same thing that affected the beasts in the city. But it was different. Usually, the creatures never strayed from the city, and they only came out during the night. 

  The camp was miles away from the ruins of the city. They had made it so for a reason. If that dog had been bitten by an afflicted creature, it meant one was near the camp. It meant people, her people, could be in danger. 

  Janai was still pacing, deep in thought, when the flaps of the entrance parted and someone walked in. A Sunfire soldier, the strip on her breastplate indicating she was a captain. She quickly dipped her head respectfully, waiting for the queen to address her before speaking. 

  “Captain Aiyana,” she said, lifting her chin. “You may speak.”

  “My Queen,” The captain spoke quietly. “We have removed the body, as you requested. We moved it to the medic’s tent.” She blinked. “Some other doctors and scholars requested to look over it.”

  “Who?” Janai asked, raising an eyebrow. A part of her knew it would be a good idea, but she also wanted as few people around that.. thing as possible. She wanted to get rid of it. Now, it was just a reminder of the thing that had driven them from their home, now dangerously home to their new one. 

  Aiyana frowned. “I didn’t catch all of their names, but one is a human doctor, one is a herbalist, and the others are scholars from the old university.” 

  Janai dipped her head. “Let them conduct their tests, all within reason, of course. Keep a guard posted with them at all times, though.” 

  Aiyana nodded, understanding, but Janai wasn’t done. “And, Captain?”

  Aiyana seemed to freeze, finally meeting Janai’s eyes. “Yes, My Queen?” 

  “Once they are done,” she said slowly, carefully. “Dispose of it.”

  Aiyana immediately knew she meant the body and nodded again, furrowing her eyebrows. “And how would you like it disposed of?” She asked. 

  Janai paused to think. Burying it seemed pointless and time consuming. Dumping it was out of the question. Which left one option. 

  “Burn it,” she replied. 

  The captain dipped her chin down. “Of course.”

  Janai held back her sigh, hunching her shoulders. She felt dizzy with worry. “Is that all, Captain?”

  “We wanted to know if you had a new protocol in place for tonight,” Aiyana said, her eyes widening with each word. The guards were as worried as Janai felt. “The people.. they’re confused, and scared. We should show them we’re being cautious, but also still have things under control.” She paused. “We can’t let hysteria spread unless we’re sure of what we’re dealing with.”

  Janai frowned, but nodded. She turned her back on the captain, holding a hand to her forehead. She had been mulling it over for the last hour and her head had begun to ache. “Double the patrols. I want guards posted all over the camp. Make sure they keep a weapon on them at all times. And I want pairs. No one should be wandering around alone, especially after dark.”

  Captain Aiyana's expression was pinched, but she nodded in agreement. “Is that all, My Queen?” 

  “I’m also implementing a temporary curfew for all civilians,” Janai decided. “They should be indoors after sunset and not come out until dawn. That is when the creatures roam.” She crossed her arms behind her back, trying to stand up straight. “They should also be reminded to keep their pets and children inside. Light and noise should be kept to a minimum too. We don’t know what attracts these beasts.” 

  The captain nodded along again. “Of course, My Queen. Safety is very important in uncertain times such as these.”

  This time, Janai did not hold back her sigh. She was glad Aiyana could not see her expression. She held a hand to her pounding temple, trying to take deep breaths. Why did it always seem the times were uncertain? For once, she’d like to think her people were safe, that their future was secured. 

  “Your Majesty,” Aiyana said a moment later, breaking the silence. 

  Janai turned her head, looking at the soldier over her shoulder. “Yes, Captain?”

  She cleared her throat, voice shaky and uncharacteristically quiet. “What happens if this doesn’t work,” she asked. “If the creatures come back? If the darkness, it’s.. spreading?”

  Janai took a moment to come up with an answer that was both thoughtful and reassuring. Of course, she had thought of this possibility ever since she had first seen the body. “We do not know much, so the first step is only doing what we can, taking the necessary precautions. If the threat is.. larger than we presume, we will cross that bridge when we get there. Worse case scenario, we evacuate parts of the camp. We spread out.” She felt her throat tighten. “We do whatever we can to keep people safe.”

  When she turned back to Captain Aiyana, she recognized the look on her face. The twisted, far-away expression on her face. She was thinking of the first time they had to leave their home. 

  It was horrible. Janai had tried to push it to the back of her mind. They had to cut down many of their own. Their own soldiers. Civilians. Innocents. People like Aiyana had probably had to slain their comrades, the people they had trained and fought beside. 

  At the memories, she winced. Her head throbbed again. She let out a hiss of pain, annoyed. She still had much to do. How was she supposed to go about her day when it felt like she had banged her head against a rock? 

  “Yes, Your Radiance,” she heard Aiyana mumble, but barely registered it. 

  The blood roared in her ears. She winced again, the pain coming in waves, tugging like the ocean, radiating against the inside of her skull. She swayed on her feet, wobbling. She tried to steady herself, grabbing onto the edge of the nearby desk, nearly overturning the inkwell. 

  “Your Majesty?” Captain Aiyana asked. 

  She thought she heard footsteps. Her vision blurred. She flinched, finding she was slumped against the desk. Huh. She didn’t remember doing that. 

  “Queen Janai!” Captain Aiyana exclaimed, voice tight with concern. 

  The last thing she registered was the captain’s concerned voice, weaving in and out of consciousness. 

Chapter Text

The canteen was sparsely crowded at this time of morning. 

  Rayla mulled over her choice of watery soup or suspiciously spongy stew. She ended up getting the soup, as well as half a piece of bread, hoping it didn’t taste like it smelled. She sat down next to Callum, who had chosen the stew, and was picking at it with his fork. 

  “You know,” he muttered. “At times like this I’d actually be willing to eat Lujanne’s hidden grubs.” 

  Rayla grinned at him. “Better study up on your illusion magic then.”

  He snorted, continuing to pick at his food. She watched him, raising an eyebrow. She would have thought  princes would have been taught better than to play with his food. As she slurped on her soup, she realized he was deep in thought. Something was on his mind. 

  “What is it?” She poked gently. 

  “Everything,” Callum replied, stabbing his fork in the middle of the bowl of stew, leaving it there to sink. “Being back, having time to process everything, it feels so weird.” He gestured around them— to the people, to the tents. “This is our new normal. This is reality. For me, for us. For my people.” He slumped over, a hand on his forehead. “It’s a lot.”

  “It’s temporary,” Rayla reminded him, then poked him in the side. “Now, eat up. You need your strength.” 

~

After eating, they dumped their dishes in the pile with the others. Then they made their way to the middle of the camp, where the official Council Chamber was— a bigger tent with a table large enough for all of them. It was near the tents the guards were currently staying in. 

  As they walked through the camp, Callum paid attention to the things around him. The empty pits where dying fires laid, the laundry hanging to dry. The flickering lanterns strung along tents and loose dogs nosing for straps of food. Some people were out early, sitting and nursing cups of tea, heading to the canteen to eat, or guards on patrol. His gaze lingered on a mother and child— the mother clutching her daughter’s hand as they watched, eyes tired, looking around almost warily. 

  Callum sighed. These were his people, his kingdom, and this was their new reality. They would be heading to Katolis, surveying the damage, requesting aid and supplies, but getting said supplies would take time, and rebuilding would take even more time. He hoped they would at least clear some of this camp— with both Duren and Lux Aurea willing to offer up places to survivors. He knew lots of people would flock further down the kingdom to stay with family who had been unaffected, especially when winter came around. Maybe they would stay in Wyver. Maybe they could use the winter lodge. 

  There were many possibilities, and lots to discuss, and that’s what they were there to do. 

  He slipped his hand through Rayla’s as they walked. It made him feel a bit better, at least. 

  By the time they entered the tent, almost everyone was there. Soren, finishing his meal, standing next to Ezran, who was sitting and engaged in a conversation with Aanya. Amaya and Gren were also sitting, Amaya with her arms crossed and Gren staring impatiently at the table top. Opeli already stood at the head of the table, looking surprisingly pleased for this early in the morning. Then her gaze went to Rayla and Callum as they entered, down to their joint hands, and her lips pinched. 

  “Prince Callum,” she said, voice tight. “Lady Rayla. Thanks for joining us. Please sit.”

  Rayla and Callum looked at each other, then took a seat next to Ez and Aanya. Opeli looked around the table. “Is that everyone?” She questioned out loud. 

  “I think so,” Ezran echoed, looking around too, eyebrows furrowed. “Zym is still asleep. He’s not a morning person, or dragon, I guess.”

  Aanya let out a low laugh at that. 

  “Corvus too,” Soren added. “I kept him pretty late.” He paused at Opeli’s half confused, half concerned glance. “What? In my defense, my shift was boring, and there was a lot going on this week. I needed someone to talk to.” 

  Opeli only shook her head and her gaze went around the room again. “I’m sorry,” she said in a certain direction. “Who are you?”

  “Kazi,” the elf answered. “I’m a scholar at the university, or what used to be the university.” They cleared their throat. “Queen Janai sent me. I’ll keep track of what supplies you need so you can send requests back to Duren.” 

  “Well,” Opeli replied. “At least one person I know will do their job.” She sent a pointed look to Soren, who didn’t even notice. “Well, King Ezran has a speech to deliver in a few hours, and I expect you all will want to leave before then. You’ll be out there for a few hours at least, and it’s a bit of a ride.”

  Callum internally groaned at the prospect of getting back on a horse so soon. 

  We’re leaving in an hour, Amaya was already signing, and Gren translated out loud. I’ll escort whoever is coming. 

  Opeli nodded, and her gaze went to Rayla and Callum. “I assume you two are going?”

  They looked at each other, then nodded in agreement. Her gaze went to Aanya next. “Yes,” she said evenly. “As I have offered to provide aid, I believe it’s best I see the damage for myself, at least this once.” 

  Opeli looked genuinely grateful at the young queen. “Katolis thanks you for your support.”

  Aanya dipped her head. “And I’ll support you however I can.” 

  Opeli’s glance landed on Soren last. “Soren?” she asked. 

  “Sure, I could go,” he replied, leaning forward. “You never know when you’ll need a little muscle.” 

  “Well then, I think we’re done here,” Opeli proclaimed. “That was a quick one.”

  “Sure beats the four hour meeting where Soren started an argument about pineapple on pizza,” Callum muttered.

  “What??” Soren said from his seat. “It’s fruit! They shouldn’t mix!”

  Small arguments started, and then Opeli cleared her throat and they fizzled out. Rayla just looked confused, probably thinking it was just another weird human thing. 

  Ezran gave them all a tentative smile, turning in his chair. “I’m sure you guys will do great.” 

  Rayla raised an eyebrow, frowning. “You’re not going, Ez?”

  He slowly shook his head, looking away. “I’m not sure I’m ready.” He looked down. “Plus, I have a speech to get ready to deliver. You guys head to the ruins and start recording the damage, and I’ll stay here, deal with the people.”

  Callum squeezed his brother’s shoulder reassuringly. “You’ll do great,” he told him. 

  “Yeah, you will,” Rayla said. She placed her hand on his other shoulder. “If anyone can bring hope to these people, it’s you.”

  Ezran smiled softly and pulled them in for a brief hug, then let go, exhaling. Rayla smiled as she pulled away, punching him softly in the shoulder. He laughed, rubbing at the spot. “What is that for?”

  “You’re getting tall,” she remarked. “You’ll be as tall as your brother soon.”

  “What?” Callum said, incredulous. “No, he won’t.” 

  “Oh, he’s just bitter at the thought of his little brother being taller than him,” Rayla whispered to Ezran, who laughed again. 

  With one last glance at the both of them, Ezran broke away from them, trailing after Aanya and Soren, who waited for him at the exit. Callum watched him go with a heavy heart. He was so proud of him, but a part of him felt for him too. Trying to give a speech to your people after such a tragedy, trying to give them hope back, wouldn’t be easy. But Rayla was right— if anyone could do it, it was Ezran. 

  “Prince Callum,” Opeli said before everyone left. He paused. Rayla, still holding his hand, stopped too. “May I talk to you for a moment?” Her gaze flickered to Rayla. “Alone.” 

  He felt Rayla once, and when he turned back to her, she was frowning. He nodded at her, and she reluctantly gave in, dropping his hand and walking away, looking back once before dipping out of the tent for good. 

  He turned back to Opeli, having a good feeling about what this was about. He really didn’t want to get into it right now. Not this early, and certainly not with her. 

  “So,” she said, standing on the other side of the table. “You and…”

  “Rayla,” Callum finished. “Yes. It’s happening. Or, it’s been happening. It has for.. a while. I don’t know. It’s complicated. But she’s here now, and she’s helping us, and that’s that.”

  Opeli raised her eyebrows. “That’s that?” She echoed. 

  Callum nodded stiffly. “Yes,” he replied. “I know you have your.. reservations, but she’s back now, and I guess you’ll have to get used to it. There’s a lot of stuff to get used to nowadays, and I find you’ll find Rayla being the least worrying of them all.” 

  Opeli blinked, then sniffed. “Do you love her?” She asked slowly. 

  Callum also blinked, a bit taken back. “Yes,” he said honestly, without hesitation. And he had never meant anything more. 

  Opeli exhaled, then nodded. “Then that’s good enough for me.”

  Callum perked up, surprised. “Really?”

  She scratched the back of her neck. “While I’m not thrilled at your choice of who to court—“

  “Opeli, for the last time, I’m not interested in the princess of Evenere,” Callum said, taking a deep breath. “I don’t care if it’ll ’secure our alliance.’ Their number one export is, like, beets anyway. Who eats beets?” 

  “I brought that up once,” Opeli countered. 

  “And it was enough,” Callum responded. 

    Opeli shifted her weight. “Prince Callum, I just want to warn you. While many won’t care about your.. choices, a few might. I know a certain crowd of people won’t like to entertain the idea of their future princess being an elf, an ex-assassin nonetheless,” Opeli said carefully. “I just want you to be ready to deal with such a situation. After all, it has only been three years of peace between the human kingdoms and Xadia, but hopefully a lot more to come.” 

  Callum was taken aback that he didn’t even blink at the use of the words future princess. “My aunt married an elf,” he pointed out, then winced. “And then they fought an angry army after their wedding so maybe that’s not the best example.”

  “Maybe not, but their love is the example,” Opeli replied. “You will go through trials and tribulations, but if your love is true, it will last.” Opeli tilted her head. “Plus, your union would be pretty good for our alliance with Xadia.”

  Callum let out a mock gasp. “Opeli,” he said. “Are you only supporting my relationship because of the political power it will bring?”

  She rolled her eyes. “I’m tolerating your relationship because she makes you happy,” she said. “It’s my job to serve the royal family, and anyone can see she makes you happy. You’ve been different since she’s come back. And I’m just glad to see you’re not moping around your office anymore.”

  “Hey,” Callum said dejectedly. “I don’t mope, I brood.” 

  Opeli shot him a skeptical look. “Sure,” she replied. “Whatever you say, Prince Callum.” 

  With that, Callum shook his head and turned to leave, but froze midstep upon hearing his name again. 

  “Prince Callum,” Opeli said. 

  “Uh huh?”

  “I know about your sneaky sleepovers, by the way,” Opeli replied. 

  He wasn’t facing her, but he could imagine the look she was giving him. It burned into his back. “What? I don’t know what you’re— okay, I get why everyone calls me a terrible liar.”  

  “You may go now, Prince Callum,” Opeli concluded. “Good luck.”

  “Yeah, I’m gonna do that,” he replied, walking out of that tent as fast as he could. 

~

When Janai awoke, everything was white. 

  She laid there for a moment, blinking up at the ceiling above. She quickly realized she was in the medic’s tent, and she was laying in a cot, covered by a thin sheet. She had been there a few times— to visit sick soldiers and civilians alike, and when Amaya had broken her wrist a few months into staying in the camp, but never for herself. The Queen of the Sunfire elves prided herself on never getting sick. 

  Well, until now, that was. 

  She held her palm to her head, which throbbed dully now, nothing compared to the painful waves from earlier. She swallowed thickly, realizing how dry her throat was. She closed her eyes for a moment, sighing, then slowly sat up, one hand on her temple, looking around. 

  A moment later, someone entered the room— an older Sunfire elf dressed in the light robes of healers. Makai. He was an old physician with dark skin and intense eyes, wearing spectacles that made them seem bigger than they were. He had a natural tendency to look angry, with a permanent frown and bushy eyebrows, and a wrinkled forehead, a testament to a lifetime of long nights and hard jobs. 

  “Your Majesty,” he began, dipping his head. She was surprised she got that much out of him— he was usually blunt, straight to the point. Besides, in the medic’s tent, titles didn’t matter much. A king and a beggar could share the same fate. 

  “Oh, Sources,” she groaned. “I’m not dying, am I?”

  To her alarm, Makai laughed. “What? Oh. No. Seems like it was just stress that did it,” he said. “You were exhausted, overwhelmed— that’s why most of your levels were elevated.” He frowned as he watched the queen hold a hand to her head. “We gave you some butterbur for the pain.” He gestured to the cup of water on the bedside table, and Janai reached over and gingerly took it. “You should drink some water. You’re most likely dehydrated as well.”

  Janai felt his burning gaze as she slowly sipped the water, feeling it cool her aching throat. “That’s all? I’m just tired?”

  The physician raised his eyebrows. “Well, yes, but we did draw some blood.” 

  Janai looked down, suddenly feeling the dull prick in her arm. She now realized the top of her armor had been shed, her breastplate and vambraces now gathered on the floor, and there was now a small white bandage wrapped around her lower arm. She frowned down at it. 

  “You’re not sleeping well, are you?” The doctor asked pointedly. 

  She glared at the tent wall, then nodded. There was no point in lying about it or dodging the truth. 

  “I think getting to bed at an actual decent time would help, for starters,” Makai grumbled, and caught the look Janai shot at him. “What? I know you. You’re the same as you were as a child. Stubborn. I remember you coming to me with bruises and sprained bones because you and your sister snuck out of bed to train and spar.” 

  Janai looked away at the sudden mention of her sister, and the doctor cleared his throat. “You should come to me if this issue persists,” he said carefully. “I could give you a herbal mixture, or a tea.” He chuckled at himself. “Or perhaps you could find a boring book to put you to sleep.” 

  When she didn’t reply, he straightened up, becoming serious again. “And make sure you’re drinking water,” he informed her. “Staying hydrated is important, especially in the summer heat.” 

  Janai nodded along, wanting to get out of there. She had heard all of this before. She felt like a child being talked down upon. 

  “And when was the last time you had a proper meal?” The physician promptly rather harshly. 

  “A proper meal?” She echoed, raising an eyebrow. “That would be before Lux Aurea fell.”

  The doctor tutted. “Captain Aiyana says the servants who deliver your meals tell her you barely even touch them.”

  “Captain Aiyana?” Janai repeated, furrowing her eyebrows. Part of her felt like she was still in a daze. 

  “She was the only one there when you collapsed in your tent,” Makai replied. 

  “Collapsed’ is a bit dramatic,” she commented dryly. 

  “She’s the one who carried you over to the medic’s tent,” he explained. “I was here, minding my own business, when, all of a sudden, there’s a sudden commotion. Everyone’s crying the queen, the queen. With all the screams, I could’ve thought you were dead.” 

  “I’m fine,” Janai insisted. “I just fainted.”

  “‘Just’?” Makai repeated, raising his bushy eyebrows. “The people are frantic as is, and news of their queen keeling over won’t do any.” He fixed her with an intense look over the rim of his spectacles. She was scolding her like a parent did a child. “You need to take care of yourself, Your Majesty. If not for yourself, then for your people. A kingdom can only be as strong as its leader.” 

  She fixed him an even look. “Points taken,” she said sharply. “May I go now?”

  “If you’re going to your tent to rest for the rest of the day, then certainly,” the doctor replied, giving her a sly grin. “Be my guest.”

  “I have things to do,” she said quickly, and Makai sent her a look so incredulous that she couldn’t help but think that if anyone else had looked at her so, they would already be in a jail cell.  

  She began to stand, gathering herself, when Makai raised his hand, giving her a stop motion. “Queen Janai,” he snapped. “Sit down.”

  Janai was surprised at the old man’s tone of voice, and even more so to find herself complying, lowering herself back on the cot. 

  Makai had been the palace physician for as long as she could remember. She went to see him for every ache and pain she had as a child. He seemed old then, and practically ancient now, not that she would say that to his face. Suns, he could have possibly been the doctor that helped deliver her. 

  He was good at what he did, and that was one of the reasons he was one of the only ones in this camp that could dare take that tone with her. 

  “What?” She snapped, eyeing the old man. 

  “I’m serious,” he replied, and his expression reflected that. “Anyone with an ounce of sense knows something is going on. In times of trouble, people look to their queen, to you. You have to show them that even when their world is changing, you’re not. You have to show them that you’re strong, that you can support them.” He frowned, fidgeting with his glasses. “With your wife gone to the Human Kingdoms, that leaves you with most of the weight of your shoulders.”

  “Thanks for the reminder,” Janai replied, hands gripping the sheets under her. 

  Makai gave her a hard look, then sighed. “You need to stop moping around and take care of yourself.”

  Janai squinted. “Excuse me?”

  “Look, I know you miss your wife. I miss mine after long days too— Oh, don’t be embarrassed,” he crowed as Janai refused to look him in the eye. “I was there when you were born, child. I slapped you on the back to get you to breathe. Suns, you were a screamer. It’s like you were mad at the fact you were born.”

  Janai slowly raised an eyebrow. “What does this have to do with anything?”

  “And you need to stop being so worked up,” Makai went on. “You’re like a coil ready to spring. A viper ready to strike—“

  “Enough with the metaphors,” she said. “I’m your queen, and I order you to stop.”

  “Oh, you’re no fun,” he pouted. 

  “And it’s kind of hard to destress when your loony old physician is raving about how everyone looks up to you,” she said. 

  “Who are you calling loony?” He shot back. 

  “I’m leaving,” Janai stated, standing up, albeit a bit wobbly. 

  “And going to rest, I sure hope,” Makai said, wiping his glasses on his robes. “You have a big, fancy bed, and it all goes to waste to do what? Paperwork?” He tsked his tongue. “Sleep well, Your Majesty. I pray I do not have to see you here again.”

  She fought the urge to roll her eyes. “You won’t,” she swore as she left the tent. 

Chapter Text

  “I spy… a gray, round thing,” Soren said carefully.

  “Another rock?” Rayla tried.

  “Well, technically, it could be a stone,” Callum added. “If it’s smaller—“

  Rayla audibly groaned. 

  Soren squinted, placing a hand over his eyes and shielding them from the sun above, white against the gray fog of the late morning. “Maybe this isn’t the best place to play I Spy,” he admitted. 

  Callum looked around them, at the barren landscape and charred, blackened trees and trampled undergrowth. “You think?” 

  Soren frowned, and Rayla sent Callum a glare. “Well, it’s the effort that matters most,” she said. “And I thought it was fun, besides your random rock facts.” 

  “It’s interesting,” Callum protested. 

  “No, it’s not,” Soren and Rayla deadpanned at the same time and then looked at each other, amused. Callum just looked offended. 

  “You need to teach me more human games anyway,” Rayla said to Callum, pulling her horse closer to him. “You and Ez have only taught me a few.”

  “I’ll teach you!” Soren quickly volunteered. She sent him a grateful look, and Callum grunted. 

  “There’s a fun human game we could play,” Gren’s voice came as they rode next to them, passing by them, translating Amaya’s words as she sighed with one hand and held the reins with the other. “It’s called ‘The Quiet Game.’”

  Rayla snorted, and watched Queen Aanya clap a hand over her mouth to keep from laughing. Callum slumped over in his saddle in response, kicking his horse to walk further ahead. He had been acting weird all morning. The closer they got, and the more gray the sky got, Rayla couldn’t blame him. It was depressing out here. 

  She pulled back on the reins, falling in step next to Soren, who was also downcast. He was staring straight ahead of them, picking at a flake on his saddle. He seemed strangely distant. He had usually cracked more jokes by now. 

  “Soren,” she said. 

  She swore he jumped a little bit in his seat. “What?” He asked, turning to look at her. “Huh?”

  She looked at him in concern. “Is.. everything alright?”

  He blinked at her, as if not processing the question. His face then contorted into a painfully fake smile. Rayla cringed. 

  “Oh, me?” He said, voice tight. “I’m a-okay! Don’t worry about me!”

  Well, she definitely was worrying now. “Okayyy,” Rayla echoed. “Are you sure?”

  “I’m sure!” Soren echoed. 

  Rayla shrugged, looking back to the gravel road ahead. They rode side by side for a few minutes, and Rayla glanced back at Soren as he bore a heavy sigh, shoulders hunching. 

  “Do you want to talk about it?” She asked insistently, carefully. 

  He was looking at the surroundings around them, eyes cloudy. “No,” he admitted aloud. His voice was small. “I’m not sure I’m ready.”

  “To be honest,” Rayla told him, leaning in his direction. “I don’t think any one of us is ready either. But, when you are, you can talk to me.”

  He looked to her, a small smile on his lips. “Thanks, Rayla.”

  She smiled back. “Of course. That’s what friends do.”

  “Aw, we’re friends!” He responded. “I remember when we were fighting in that mud puddle because we thought you were trying to kill the princes.” 

  “Yeah,” Rayla mused, huffing. “Great memories, Soren. Wasn’t trying to forget that, like, at all.” 

  She rolled her eyes, looking straight in front of her and locking eyes with a fallen tree several feet away. The sight wasn’t uncommon: many things had been destroyed in this area. She looked at Soren, fiddling with his reins, and suddenly got an idea. 

  She tilted her head back at him. “Race you to that tree over there?”

  He looked ahead of them, eyes locking on the target, and then nodding. “Oh,” he replied. “You are so on.”

  She huffed. “I’m gonna win, and you know it.”

  He was already kicking his horse into a trot. “Eat my dirt!” He exclaimed. 

  Rayla squinted. “Isn’t the expression dust?”

  Soren chose to ignore her, and they both wrangled their horses into a canter, barreling down the rocky trail, the fallen tree coming closer to their view. They ignored Callum’s protests as they zoomed past, kicking up dirt. 

  “You see?” She heard Soren shout over the clamping of hooves against earth. “Dirt.”

  She laughed, feeling weightless for the first time in a long time. 

~

The queen woke late, to her own alarm. She usually woke with the sun, but it seemed her whole schedule had been thrown out the window the minute she had been shown that body. And, now more than ever, it seemed her own body was betraying her. 

  She fixed her sheets and pillows, then washed her face with cold water to wake herself up, then took her time dressing. She passed the table, where a bowl of porridge and fresh fruit had been laid out, ignoring it and wrinkling her nose. She had no appetite these days. 

  She was finishing putting on her crown and pulling back her hair when a knock sounded from outside, loud and formal. She turned around, ducking her head to try to see who it was. She caught a glimpse of golden armor, and a lump formed in her throat. 

  “Come in,” she said anyway, and the clanking of armor followed as the tent flap parted open. 

  “Captain Aiyana,” Janai said as the familiar guard trailed in. “Is everything alright?” She questioned immediately, coming around to expect it, especially now. It seemed the whole camp was on edge, holding its breath. 

  “No, My Queen,” Aiyana said, dipping her head. “Everything is just fine. I just came to check on you. Usually you are awake by now.”

  “Well,” Janai deadpanned. “I slept in.”

  “I see that. And it is good,” the captain continued. “You need your rest.”

  Janai narrowed her eyes. “Makai put you up to this, didn’t he?”

  The beginnings of a smile twitched onto Aiyana’s lips, but she cleared her throat, trying to stay serious. “He means well,” she replied, indirectly answering her question. “He wants to make sure you’re eating. We can’t have you fainting again.” 

 Reluctantly, Janai picked up her spoon and began to pick at her food.  “I meant to thank you for that,” Janai said. “Makai told me you were the one to carry me to the medic tent the other day. You acted quickly, and bravely, and you reminded me how worthy you are of your position as captain.” 

  Aiyana nodded, not meeting her eyes. She looked embarrassed. “Of course, Your Majesty,” she said. “I only did what anyone else would do.”

  “You don’t have to be so humble,” Janai said, lowering herself to sit at the table and looking up at the captain, who stood as straight as a pole with her arms crossed. She wrinkled her nose. “And it’s just the two of us. You may drop the formalities.”

  Aiyana looked uncomfortable at that thought, opening her mouth to object, but Janai stopped her, holding a hand up. “I insist,” she said. “Aiyana, you’re only a few years younger than me. We trained together. We used to play pranks on your brother when he was mean to my sister.” Aiyana began to smile at that memory. “Plus, it is much too early for me to want to be addressed as ‘Your Radiance.’”

  Reluctantly, Aiyana nodded. “Alright.”

  “Alright,” Janai said back, then gestured to the chair across from her. “Do you have a few moments?”

  The captain furrowed her eyebrows. “Yes,” she finally answered. “I just got off the night watch. I have several hours until my next shift.”

  “Then please sit,” Janai insisted. “You must be tired, and it’s been ages since I’ve had the company of someone that wasn’t an old councilor or an even older physician.” 

  Aiyana chuckled softly at that, coming to slowly sit down. “Speaking of physicians,” she said, reaching out into her pocket and pulling out a glass vial. She handed it to Janai, who inspected it. It looked like some sort of herbal mixture. Janai had been given many of these— for sickness and broken bones as a child, and then up to adulthood. “Makai told me to bring it to you. For the headaches.”

  She snorted. “Remind me to tell Makai that my captains are not to run errands for him. That’s why he has nurses.”

  “It’s fine,” Aiyana insisted. “It was on my way anyway.” 

  Janai looked down at it. “Well, thank you for bringing it anyway.”

  “Of course, My Queen—“ She caught herself, wincing, then sniffed. “Janai,” she said, and Janai nodded. 

  “Huh,” Janai said, shaking the vial. The contents inside shook, swirling. Still curious, she uncapped the lid and held it up to her nose, taking a tentative sniff. She immediately flinched away, her face scrunching up from the smell. The stench was almost unbearable. “Augh! What is that smell?”

  Aiyana raised one eyebrow, holding out one hand. “May I?”

  Janai nodded, shoving the vial into her hands eagerly. She coughed, taking breaths of fresh air. It still seemed the smell was caught in her airway. Just her luck. 

  Aiyana took a small sip, almost shyly, unable to hide her own wince. “Smells like rue,” she said as she capped it again. “I know that smell. My mother had terrible migraines as a child, and they returned when she was pregnant with my little sister. She used to brew a batch and stink up the whole house. It drove my father mad.”

  She passed it back to Janai, who took it carefully, glaring down at it like it was the culprit for all her problems. “Did it work?”

  Aiyana shrugged. “I think so.”

  Janai pursed her lips, setting the vial back down on the table. “Well, I don’t know how your mother put up with it. It smells like death.”

  “It’s probably a mix of other herbs too,” Aiyana added. “Makes it seem worse than it is.”

  “I still think Makai is trying to poison me,” Janai said, turning away from the vial, and raising an eyebrow. “You seem to know quite a lot about herbs. Have you been spending too much time in the medic’s tent?”

  Aiyana smiled, blinking. “When I was a child,” she explained slowly. “I wanted to be a healer.” 

  Janai raised both eyebrows now, surprised. “Really?”

  Aiyana had always seemed like she was meant to be a warrior. She sparred with Janai when they were children. She was always one of the top of their class, beating even her older brother, who grumbled about it begrudgingly. She had the spirit of a fighter— brave, yet selfless and compassionate. Janai had always been faithful in her decision to promote Aiyana to captain. 

  Aiyana nodded. “Yes. Really.” 

  Aiyana’s gaze dropped to the tabletop in front of them. The silence became heavy. Janai looked away, lost in thought. It made her think of everyone else— her soldiers, her councilors. A light breeze swept in, lifting the tent flap. She caught a sliver of the camp outside, bustling with activity under the blue sky. 

  Everyone out there was their own person, with their own hopes and dreams. And she wanted the best for them, for those dreams to come true. 

  It made protecting them all the more important. 

  Her thoughts were interrupted as the tent flap was pushed open, but not by the wind. A flustered guard ran in, looking like he had been running. He was out of breath as his eyes searched the tent and landed on Janai, eyes wide. He gasped, catching his breath. 

  Janai and Aiyana exchanged surprised, and concerned, glances, turning back to the guard. Janai nearly dropped her spoon, breakfast long forgotten. 

  “Kian?” Aiyana asked softly, recognizing the guard. 

  He lifted his head, the whites of his eyes flashing. “Your Majesty,” he said, and she swore she could hear a pin drop. “There’s been an attack.”   

~

By the time he crawled into bed that night, he was exhausted both physically and mentally. 

  They had been at the ruins of Katolis for several hours. His muscles ached from climbing over collapsed buildings. He swore if he inhaled deeply enough, he could still smell the bitter smell of the smoke. He had broken a nail and scraped up his leg from doing so— opposite of Rayla, who jumped from place to place with ease. 

  They walked the outskirts of the city, where the damage wasn’t even the worst. It was still a lot to take in. More times than he could count, he had zoned out, and Rayla had to place a hand on his shoulder and squeeze it to bring him back to reality. A lot of the places he had been before— the bakery, the tailor, the cobbler— had been completely destroyed, burned, roofs collapsing in on themselves. 

  They stopped briefly, spoke to Kazi, who took notes, and moved on, or tried to. There was still a lot to do, and they weren’t even halfway there. But that was a problem for another day, and Callum wasn’t sure he felt up to going there again. The longer he looked at it, the worse he felt. 

  It was late now, dark outside, and they had eaten dinner, caught up with Ez, and then headed to bed, exhausted. Even Opeli was too tired to argue with Rayla about her obviously going back to Callum’s tent. Ezran had told them his speech went good, or good enough. 

  Walking around camp, he could tell people were feeling better— walking with their heads high, a sparkle in their eye. A few people even called out to him in greeting. Ez had really moved them. 

  “Man, I kinda wish I heard that speech,” he said to Rayla in a low voice as they walked. 

  “Yeah, seemed real inspirational,” she replied, eyeing a widely smiling woman they passed.

  Now, they laid in bed, Rayla’s head tucked close to Callum’s chest. They were silent, nothing except for the ruffle of the sheets and their heavy breathing. Callum was tired, but with his head on the pillow, he found he couldn’t sleep. He stared up at the ceiling, mind full and empty at the same time. It seemed Rayla found herself in a similar position. 

  “Callum?” She asked quietly a moment later. 

  He hummed in reply. “Hmm?”

  “How are ya feeling?”

  “Weird,” Callum said after thinking for a moment. 

  “Me too,” Rayla agreed. 

  “Everything..” He began, then trailed off. 

  “It’s a lot?” Rayla guessed. 

  He wrinkled his nose. “Yeah,” he said. “It’s a lot.” 

  “Well, the good news,” Rayla replied, sitting up and giving him a peck on the nose. “Is tomorrow is a new day.”

  He nodded. “Tomorrow is a new day,” he repeated, then raised his eyebrows. “Hey, since when are you an optimist?”

  “Don’t get used to it,” Rayla said, snuggling against his side, voice muffled by his shirt.  

  “I won’t,” he laughed, rolling over. “Goodnight, Rayla.”

  “Goodnight, Callum.” 

Chapter Text

His name was Keagan. He was a soldier that had been assigned to patrol the perimeter of the side of camp where the first body had been found, during the last stretch of the night watch, before the sunrise. The partner he had been assigned to patrol with had reported to the infirmary, sick. No one had thought to assign him a new one. 

  They found him just as the sun was making its way over the peaks of the hills in the distance. The guard that had found him had screamed. Blood, she had whispered feverishly later, a blanket covering her shoulders despite the heat of the morning, tucked away in the corner of the medic’s tent. So much blood. 

  Janai followed Aiyana and the still frantic guard, Kian, across the camp, trying to understand. From what she had gathered, the guard was still alive, but needed intensive care. Kian was nervously blabbering about the situation, clearly agitated. Aiyana followed him, a hand on his shoulder as she nodded along, expression guarded. She could make out the words attack, blood, and leg. 

  That all-too-familiar feeling of dread fell over her again. Just how bad was it this time? And what was next? Just how far would this go until someone lost, Suns forbid, their life? 

  She tried to ignore the wary and cursive looks being sent her way as she tailed the two soldiers, a hand absentmindedly resting on her sword. Tension was brewing in the camp. She could feel it in the air. 

  Neighbors exchanged cautious glances.  Teenagers leaned over to whisper in each other’s ears. Parents gripped their children’s hands. They knew something was happening, something bad. They would expect their queen to address them soon, to answer their insistent questions, and Janai would have to prepare to assure them. 

  She had to find answers first, solutions. 

  As she trailed into the medical tent, stark white against the dusky colors of the backdrop, the tight feeling in her chest coiled like a snake, wound and heavy. Makai met her with a pinched expression, a frown and a drawn brow. Healers and nurses dressed in light colors ran to and from, yelling at each other. 

  Turn him on his side, they shouted. More aloe. More bandages. More tulsi. More turmeric. 

  Janai tried not to look behind them, telling herself not to. She expected the worst. Behind him, a figure laid sprawled out on one of the cots. She noticed the rest of the tent had been cleared out. She also noticed the blood soaking the thin white sheets, dripping onto the ground.

  Drip, drip. 

  She shook her head. “What happened?” She asked, and she felt like her voice was so small. 

  “We found him like this,” Kian repeated, his voice as small as she currently felt. 

  Janai struggled to see the rise and fall of his chest. He had been stripped down to his plain clothes, a white shirt covering him. His armor laid discarded on the ground at the foot of the cot, abandoned. A thin sheet covered his lower half, where he seemed to be bleeding from. Bleeding profoundly too, she might add. 

  Her stomach twisted at the sight. She sniffed, and the sharp smell of herbs and spices filled the air, as well as the bitter, iron smell of blood, a scent that was almost familiar to her, although the bloodshed had significantly decreased since the end of the war three years prior. 

  “Is he.. alive?” She questioned out loud, quirking an eyebrow. 

  “Yes,” Makai answered, straight forward. 

  “For now,” a nurse said, dressing a wound on his arms, a nasty looking puncture wound. Her tone was both realistic and mournful. A nurse working beside her, wrapping his arm in soft gauze and then bandaging the wound, promptly hit her with his elbow, and then they both hung their heads and returned to their work. 

  “We have him under some pretty pain medication,” Makai explained, looking over the fallen soldier with a distant expression. “It’s best if he is sedated. He lost a lot of blood, and we must tend to his wounds. We can’t risk infection.” 

  “Will he live?” Janai asked next, forcing her voice to be steady, to not shake. 

  The old healer squinted, furrowing his eyebrows. He looked her in the eye, as blunt as ever. “It’s hard to tell,” he replied. “Again, the blood loss.. is significant. A transfusion may be needed. But we will do all we can.”

  “Thank you,” Janai said, feeling a small pang of guilt. This soldier was just doing his job, patrolling the area Janai had assigned him to, and he had been attacked. Now, here he was, bleeding out on a table. 

  “You say he lost blood,” Janai echoed, and Makai nodded along in confirmation. “Is he still bleeding? And, if so, where?” 

  The healer fell quiet, clearing his throat. 

  She tilted her head. She only saw one or two wounds on his arms, which appeared to be.. claw marks? But surely they wouldn’t be deep enough to cause him to collapse, to lose consciousness. 

  Makai still looked solemn. “It’s best to show you,” he said slowly, and Janai raised both eyebrows, then nodded.

  Makai moved to the edge of the cot, near Keagan’s feet, and gripped the end of the blood stained sheet, hesitating. He swallowed. Hard. “I must warn you,” he said. “It is.. gruesome.”

  Janai braced herself, again preparing for the worst. Makai lifted the sheet. She widened her eyes in surprise, in shock. 

  And Janai had been in battle before. She knew gore. She had seen innards strewn across the field. She had seen limbs ripped off, bloody gaps where body parts should be. She had seen explosions burn away half of one’s face. Still, as the blanket was moved, revealing the space where his left leg should have been, bit off at the knee, it was too much. 

  It was bitten clean off, a jumbled mess of blood and bone and flesh and muscle. She caught a flash of white, his exposed bone, and felt her own blood drain. She hadn’t been around such amounts of blood, hadn’t been around such gore, since the war, since the aftermath of the final battle at the Storm Spire. 

  This sight came unexpectedly. 

  She held a hand to her mouth, feeling like gagging. She had the sudden urge to expel this morning’s meager breakfast. Immediately, she turned on her heel and walked out of the tent, getting blasted in the face by the heat of the day. She sucked in a mouthful of fresh air, then promptly keeled over and emptied her stomach. 

  She stayed there for a moment, breathing hard, thoughts racing. She couldn’t get the sight out of her head— his body sprawled against the cot, his mangled limb, his painful expression, his brow furrowed, his forehead damp with beads of sweat. 

  She closed her eyes. She tried to get a hold of herself, grounding herself with the sounds of the camp around her. The shuffle of feet and hooves, the clatter of pans, and the chatter of people and laughter of children. 

  Her eyes flitted open. The dread was back, a heavy stone sinking to the pit of her stomach. The people, her people. If she didn’t do something soon, the next victim might be a civilian, a child. 

  And they might not just lose a limb, but their life. 

  She was only half aware of the sound of the flap of the tent opening, of someone moving behind her. She was still leaning over, clutching her knees, her breath drawn sharply. 

  “My Queen,” the voice said. It was Aiyana. “Are you alright?”

  “I’m fine,” she replied, standing up, drawing her shoulders. She couldn’t appear weak, not in tones as troubling as this. 

  There was silence for a moment, save for the barks of the nurses inside the medical tent and the noises of the camp beyond, a reminder of her duties, of all the lives at stake. The clock was ticking by now, and she knew she had to do something. 

  She heard Aiyana draw a breath. “Your Majesty,” she said, her voice shaky, quivering. “What will we do?”

  Janai turned to face her captain, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “Summon the councilors,” she instructed slowly, carefully. Her voice was surprisingly level. “We need to call a meeting. Now.” 

~

As he stepped into the center of the place he had been born, the place he had grown up, the place he had trained in and where he had met the love of his love, his home, he felt nervous. 

  Nervous wasn’t usually a recurring emotion for him. But it had been the last few days, the last week. During his travels, alone in the woods, he had time to do nothing but think, to get lost in his thoughts. The closer he got to the Silvergrove, the more his thoughts raced. The more he worked at the inside of his cheek. The more he clenched his hands into balls until his palms were scarred and his knuckles were white. 

  He had been waiting for this day for almost three years. He had pictured it, replayed it in his mind until it was the only thing keeping him from going insane. He only had daydreams and half-conscious ramblings to go upon. 

  He still had no idea how his husband would exactly react. He had probably thought Runaan dead, had grieved both a husband and a daughter when his flower inevitably sunk, along with most of the others, and Rayla’s stayed afloat, meaning only one thing to the community— desertion, betrayal. Just like they thought of her parents. 

  Runaan now knew she had been Ghosted, but that was a problem for another day, if she ever decided to come back home to the Silvergrove. He had some strong words for the Council elders if they didn’t undo the spell. After all, a part of him hoped Rayla would return at some point, if even just for a visit. He wanted to be a family again. 

  The other part of him begrudgingly accepted the fact that she had found a home in one of the human kingdoms during his.. absence. She had formed another, although chaotic, family, and he had to respect that. He just wanted to see her be happy, even if that meant she was dating a human. Runaan had actively tried to ignore the thought of it for the last week. (Seriously. He told her to kill a prince, not kiss one.)

  He shook his head, clearing his thoughts. He crept into the clearing, silent as a mouse. The night was quiet, the moon high above, lighting up his path. He continued on his way, tracing the familiar path to his old house, the one he had followed a thousand times over, coming back from late nights and early morning market runs alike. 

  It was late, and all the respectable elves were in bed by this hour. The children had school the next morning, and many others had jobs and training sessions to attend. 

  He walked slowly through the main part of the town, taking it all in. He stuck to the shadows, listening for anything, not wanting to risk it. He wanted to see Ethari, not scare someone into thinking they were seeing a ghost. Most of the community probably thought he was dead, after all, which wasn’t uncommon in his line of work. He had led memorials for fellow fallen assassins himself. 

  They took one day to mourn, to honor the legacy of their fallen comrade, and then moved on. Because what else was there to do? 

  A sour feeling sank into his stomach as he realized the community had probably mourned and forgotten him too. 

  He continued on his way, stopping only a moment later at the edge of a familiar fountain. He was captivated by the way the moon beams hit the water, highlighting it in waves of pure, lucent white. He followed the ripples to the middle, and with a jolt, realized the flower, his flower, was afloat— steady, only rocked by the gentle lure of the water. 

  He widened his eyes, looking around at the darkened paths and closed windows around him. Had anyone noticed, questioned it? Did they still even care? 

  He tore his gaze from the flower to the other side of the fountain when he was aware of a shadow falling over the edge of the water. Someone stood there, motionless. Their shoulders were hunched, looking downwards. 

  He squinted. A familiar shape, a familiar figure. Male, he suspected, by the hard lines of the body. And the way he held himself.. it was almost like—

  Runann blinked harshly. 

  The figure was frozen, stiff. He could pinpoint the moment his gaze went from the water and up, up. Time seemed to move in slow motion. 

  This was what he had wanted for three years. 

  His breath caught in his throat, creating a strange sound indeed— half sigh, half grunt. 

  The elf’s jaw fell open, slack. Rigid. Speechless. 

  Finally, the silence was broken. Finally, they spoke to each other for the first time in many moons. 

  “Ethari?”

  “Runaan?”

Chapter Text

The next morning, Rayla and Callum slept in considerably. They rose a few hours after the sun rose in the sky, washed, dressed, and made their way down to the canteen for breakfast. At this hour, the canteen was more crowded than all the other times they had dined. He caught Rayla throwing him an annoyed glance. 

  He gently rolled his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he said. “Not all of us want to get up at the crack of dawn.”

  Rayla huffed. “The early bird gets the moonberry.”

  Callum raised an eyebrow. “Don’t you mean worm?” He asked. 

  It was Rayla’s turn to raise an eyebrow. “No,” she said carefully. “Why would I mean worm?”

  “Because that is what the saying is!” Callum exclaimed defensively. 

  Rayla shot him a blank look, wrinkling her nose. She shook her head. “Humans are weird.”

  Callum blinked. “I know.”

  Rayla snorted. 

  They finally moved forward in line and served themselves, grabbing a bowl and scooping with the ladle. They quickly moved on and went to choose a spot on the edge of the tables set up all around the canteen, setting down their breakfast, which was bowls of lumpy porridge, on the tabletop. 

  People sat all around them, eating and talking. The air was filled with the sounds of chatter, chewing, and the clink of spoons against bowls. They settled in a table by the corner, under the shade of a giant oak. Thankfully, it was still summer, but not scorching hot. There was a light breeze in the air this morning, and the smell of smoke and ash had almost completely faded away. 

  Callum looked around as Rayla started to tentatively eat her porridge, poking around at the mixture and cringing at the wet noise it made. Even within the small, gathered crowd, Callum could find his brother, dressed in his usual clothes, the silver crown on his head glinting in the low morning light. He was also the only one here with two guard escorts, he supposed. 

  The two guards stood behind him, arms crossed behind their backs and chests puffed out as if showing off. Ezran sat at a table at the edge like them, shoulders hunched, looking down. He also had a bowl of porridge in front of him, though he was doing more stabbing than eating, dipping his spoon into the bowl almost absentmindedly. 

  Callum blinked. His brother looked so crestfallen, he realized. So small. 

  “Eugh,” Rayla said, and her exclamation brought him out of his thoughts. “Are there supposed to be hard lumps in this?” She questioned incredulously. 

  He shook his head, frowning. “No.”

  Rayla sighed and put down her spoon, turning to wipe her hand on her napkin and then turning back to him. “What’s wrong?” 

  “Huh?”

  “You’ve got that look on your face. That sad-slash-guilty look. What is it this time?”

  Callum hung his head, propped on his elbows. “Look at Ezran,” he said, and watched as Rayla cast a glance over her shoulder, frowning slightly. “He looks so sad.”

  Rayla frowned, plunging her spoon into the lumpy porridge and watching it sink. “I don’t blame him,” she replied. “Sitting here early in the morning, having to eat whatever.. this is.” 

  She gestured excessively to the bowl in front of her. Callum snorted, then seemed to fold in half. He leaned against the tabletop, head in his hands, bearing a heavy sigh. 

  Gingerly, Rayla reached over and gave him an awkward pat on the shoulder. “Erm, it’s alright?”

  Callum groaned, muffled by his arms. “Not helping.”

  “Right.” Rayla pulled away, expression softening. She looked confused, and concerned. She pushed away her bowl, a serious look falling over her face. “Why don’t we all take a day off?”

  Callum lifted his head, intrigued. He raised a brow. “What do you mean by that?”

  “We get away for a bit, take Ez out of camp,” she explained. 

  Callum considered it, shrugging. “That could work,” he said, looking around. “It is kind of.. depressing here.”

 Rayla nodded, humming. “It’s like a reminder,” she said. 

  They were quiet for a moment, thinking. Then Rayla shifted and leaned forward, smiling softly. “We could go for a nice ride?” She suggested. 

  “If I have to sit on a horse again, my legs just might fall off,” Callum deadpanned. 

  Rayla frowned. “Okay. Riding is off the table.” She tapped a finger against her chin, in deep thought. “We could go on a.. walk?” She tried. 

  “Where?” Callum asked. 

  “Um…” Rayla stammered, making a vague gesture. “You know, around.”

  Callum raised another eyebrow. “‘Around?’” He repeated. They were surrounded by open fields and forests. Not much to see. “Well, unless you want to get lost in the woods, there’s not much here. Besides, we walk around the camp all day.”

  Rayla slumped over slightly, defeated. He was shooting down all her ideas. She sighed, picking herself up. She turned around, eyes catching on something in the distance, then perked up once more. 

  “We could go into town,” she said, eyes lighting up with a new idea. “They probably have things to do. A marketplace.” She tilted her head. “I heard they have a bakery there.”

  “You just want to have fresh food, don’t you?” Callum quipped, eyeing his own bowl of mystery porridge. 

  “And a cobbler,” Rayla deadpanned. “There’s been a hole in the bottom of my boot since the Xadian border.”

  Callum frowned, raising an eyebrow. “When we were going through or coming back?”

  “Going through,” Rayla answered, eyes wide. “It’s been a long journey.” 

  Callum squinted. “I see. And going into town sounds nice. A change of scenery might be good for all of us.” He looked around, nose wrinkled. “Beats rows and rows of tents.”

  “Temporary,” Rayla hummed, reminding him. 

  He sent her a soft smile. “Right.” He stood up, stretching, then bent over to pick up his untouched bowl, still just barely warm. “You can go tell Ez of our plans, and I’ll go tell Opeli and the others we’re leaving camp.”

  Rayla nodded, picking up her own bowl. “Good call, you know, so she doesn’t send a whole search party out for us.” 

  Callum rolled his eyes, already turning away to dump his dirty dishes. He could’ve sworn he heard Rayla wish him good luck before he turned and left.

~

  He found Opeli in the large tent that had been deemed as their meeting place. Callum himself had already attended many meetings there, and he knew Ezran had attended even more, and there were many more to come. It took a lot of work and planning to rebuild a whole kingdom, after all. 

  He found Opeli bent over a table, looking over paperwork. She looked up once she heard Callum’s footsteps, the bags under her eyes telling him she hadn’t been sleeping well. Most of them haven’t. He frowned at that thought. 

  “Prince Callum,” she greeted, looking up from the pile of important looking letters Callum assumed was for Ez to read later. “Good morning. How is everything?”

  He flashed her a weary smile. “As good as can be.” His smile faltered as his gaze went over the pieces of parchment. A dark blue stamp he recognized. The seal of Duren. “Is it important?” He asked, gesturing to the papers. 

  “Yes,” Opeli said slowly. “Queen Aanya’s council sends word. Some of their troops have left Duren and they bring supplies. They should be here soon.” She rose, gathering the scattered papers into neat piles. “I want King Ezran to be ready to greet them upon their arrival. Even in times of trouble, it’s important to remain diplomatic.” 

  “You should get that embroidered on a pillow,” Callum suggested sarcastically. 

  Opeli turned to him, raising an eyebrow. “Maybe I will.”

  Callum nodded, clearing his throat. “That’s actually what I came to talk to you about.”

  Her eyebrows furrowed. “About pillow embroidery?”

  “No,” Callum started. “About Ezran. Me and Rayla are going to take him into Wyver later today. Get his mind off of things.”

  “Are you sure that’s a good idea, Prince Callum?” She asked, voice tight. 

  “Why wouldn’t it be?” Callum echoed, titling his head. 

  “Prince Callum,” Opeli warned. “You can’t just run off. There’s still work to be done here. I mean no offense, but I believe it’s the best idea that you, all of you, remain in the camp.” 

  “Opeli,” Callum replied. “Just for a few hours.. I’ve seen how down Ezran is.” He paused, chewing on his lip. “He still blames himself for this. What he needs is a distraction, just for a bit.”

  “Fine,” Opeli said, expression still pinched. Her gaze went distant, as if she was thinking, and then it softened ever so slightly. “A few hours won’t hurt. But Soren and Corvus are going with you. We’re not letting our guard down.”

  “Great,” Callum said. “Thank you. I’ll go let everyone know.”

  As he turned to leave, Opeli cleared his throat. Callum held back his groan and looked over his shoulder, blinking. “Yes?”

  “Please do your best to stay out of trouble,” Opeli told him. 

  “What? Trouble? Us?” Callum exclaimed. “When  have you ever known us to get into trouble—“ 

  Opeli sent him a pointed look. His defense fell through. “Yeah, okay,” he muttered. “We will try.”

  She raised one eyebrow. 

  “For the last time, the one time Soren got drunk and started dancing on the table and got us kicked out of the tavern, was not my fault—“

  “That’s enough, Prince Callum,” Opeli dismissed him, putting a hand up. “Go have fun, but be safe.”

  “We will!” Callum promised, finally turning and exiting the camp, leaving the tent fall waving behind him. 

~

An hour later, the five of them were gathered and getting ready to leave. By the time Callum got there, walking up, Ezran was talking to Zym, telling him he couldn’t come. The whole point of today was not to feel like royalty. Having a dragon trailing after them would definitely draw some attention. 

  They would be trying to blend in today. That’s why Ezran had ditched his crown and pulled on more formal clothes. Even Soren had draped a cloak over his armor, a cloak that definitely hadn’t been washed in a long time, but it still did its job.  

  “Sorry, buddy,” Ezran was saying. “You can’t come. Not this time. We want to blend in.”

  Zym huffed, looking disappointed. He sat down on the ground. 

  “Yeah,” Rayla chimed in, trying to make the young prince feel better. She hit him on the shoulder, and Zym only glared up at her with narrowed eyes. “Most normal folk don’t have pet dragons.”

  “Maybe we could pass him off as a blue, oddly-shaped horse?” Soren suggested. 

  “No, Soren,” Corvus deadpanned. “Just no.” 

  “You go out for a fly later,” Ezran suggested. “I’ll take you out to the big field. I promise.”

  The young dragon perked up at that, intrigued. 

  “And, who knows?” Ezran continued. “Maybe Barius is whipping something up for you right now.”

  With that, the prince was gone in a blur of blue and white, trotting back into camp, yapping happily. The group watched him go, satisfied. 

  Callum crossed his arms. “Barius isn’t aware of this arrangement, is he?” 

  “Nope!” Ezran exclaimed. “But he’ll know what to do.”

  Just then, Bait grunted impatiently, climbing onto Ezran’s shoulder, scaling it carefully. Ezran listened, then laughed. “We’re leaving soon. Just be patient, Bait.”

  Bait only grunted again. Callum couldn’t understand him but he sounded angry, as usual. 

  “What’s he say?” Callum asked, curious.

  Ezran widened his eyes in response. “You don’t want to know.”

  Callum raised his eyebrows. “Oh?”

  “Oh, sure,” Rayla started, and everyone turned to look at her. “The frog gets to go. Aren’t we supposed to be blending in?”

  “He can be a.. colorful, chubby dog?” Soren suggested. 

  Corvus shook his head. “No.. that doesn’t really work.” 

  Bait huffed in offense, puffing his cheeks out. Ezran gave him a pat on the back, soothing him. “He isn’t that attention catching,” Ezran tried. 

  “Most people don’t carry around glow toads,” Rayla pointed out. “Especially ones that look so pissed off.” 

  Bait flashed red. Ezran frowned. 

  Corvus stepped forward. “If we’re done arguing over the toad, can we get going? We only have a few hours.”

  Soren groaned. “I can’t believe she gave us a curfew. I’m literally the Captain—“

  “Yes, yes,” Corvus mused. “Captain of the Crownguard, and you have strong muscles and gorgeous blonde locks. We know.” 

  Soren paused. “You think my hair is gorgeous?”

  “Well, I’m significantly uncomfortable,” Rayla proclaimed. “Who wants to walk ahead with me?”

  She started to walk away, paving the way into town, which was a few minutes walk away. Callum and Ezran looked at each other, then quickly hurried after her. 

Chapter Text

They reached Wvyer by the time the sun was high in the sky. The town was small, but quaint. It reminded Rayla of many of the human towns she had passed through on her travels. 

  They walked through the main street, feet loud against the cobblestone. They passed pastures of cattle and horses, stopping to give their soft muzzles a pet. As always, they seemed drawn to Ezran. They all laughed as he was licked by a particularly excited cow. 

  They passed small houses with old women sweeping their front stoop and parents holding crying children. They reached the shops once they got into the middle of town. Smoke filtered through chimneys. The air smelled of freshly smelled bread and the scent of hay coming from the carts gathered on the side of the street. Around them, people walked and shopped, children playing and running past them, mouths stuffed with giant lollipops from the candy shop. 

  They passed general supply stores, tailors, and apothecaries before they came to stop at a bakery with a giant porch and its door went open. The smell of bread and pastries wafted out, tempting. The smell alone made her mouth water. She swore hadn’t had a real meal in weeks. She had been on the road or staying in a camp. 

  The group looked at each other, silently agreeing. They at least had to have one piece of good food before returning to camp. Rayla and Ezran started forward, but Soren held his arm out to stop them, looking around suspiciously. 

  Ezran sent Soren a look, raising one eyebrow. Rayla elbowed him. “Hey!” She exclaimed. “What is this for?”

  “A precaution,” Soren said. “Let me go first, scope the place out. We may be out on the town, but I’m still on the job.”

  Rayla crossed her arms, huffing. 

  “It’s a bakery,” Callum deadpanned from her other side. “What? Do you think the loaves of bread are plotting against us?”

  Corvus snorted. 

  “You never know,” Soren said with narrowed eyes. Rayla nearly laughed at how serious his expression was. 

  “Alright,” Ezran said. “Go on ahead. Make sure the bakery is safe.”

  Soren gave a stiff nod and walked ahead, stepping onto the porch and sticking his head inside the building, looking right and then left. Satisfied, he gave a nod, then motioned for them to come over. Rayla rolled her eyes, following the others as they exchanged amused glances and went inside. 

  Inside, there were tables stacked with freshly baked breads and pastries. It smelled heavenly, and she bet it tasted even better. She browsed her options for a few moments, walking behind Callum and Ezran as they ogled over frosted cupcakes. The owner— an old woman with white hair, wrinkled skin, and rosy cheeks— stood behind the counter, offering them warm smiles as they shopped. 

  Once out of ear shot, Rayla hit Soren on the shoulder, smirking. He winced, frowning down at her. “What was that for?”

  “Good job,” Rayla teased. “That old lady looks very threatening.”

  Soren scoffed. “Maybe she uses stale bread as a weapon. Knocks shoplifters out cold. You don’t know.”

  Rayla widened her eyes, playing along. “Oh, yes, I’m sure the old lady beats up people with bread.”

  “I’ve seen weirder things,” Soren defended himself. 

  “I’ve seen you do weirder things,” Rayla countered. 

  Soren tilted his head, considering it. He wrinkled his nose. “Fair enough.”

  After that, they picked out one pastry to eat. They checked out with the old lady at the counter. For a moment, she gazed at Ezran with curiosity, and Rayla was afraid he’d be recognized as king. They left after that, walking down the street and savoring the taste of the sweet, crumbly pastries on their tongue. 

  They made it to the marketplace, strolling through the road as the vendors shouted out their latest wares. She stopped at a jewelry cart, Callum went to check a booth with old books and strange herbs, and Soren got into a twenty minute discussion with a man trying to sell him a rug, ending up in Corvus dragging him away. 

  Callum stopped to see a little girl selling flowers on the side of the road, returning a moment later with a blue lily. He promptly tucked it behind her ear and pressed a kiss to her cheek. 

  “Get it?” He said, grinning like an idiot. “I got you a lily because I love you a lily more each day.” 

  Behind them, she heard Ezran groan. 

  She started to laugh. “That was terrible.” 

  “I think you mean terribly romantic,” he corrected her, still smiling. “I know.”

  He kissed her again. 

  They kept walking until they nearly reached the end of town. Rayla nearly squealed when she saw a hanging sign depicting a worn brown boot. A cobbler. Finally. Wordlessly, she grabbed Callum by the arm and dragged him to the door. He raised an eyebrow, but allowed himself to be pushed into the shop. 

  The cobbler was an older man with spectacles bent over a desk. As they came in, the small bell over the door rang and he looked up. He smiled, and Rayla noted he was missing several teeth. “Hello. What can I help you with this fine day?”

  Rayla slipped off her boot, awkwardly standing on one foot, and silently showed him the small hole in the toe of her boot. 

  He raised a bushy eyebrow, then rose and came over to grab the boot. He briefly inspected it, tutting. “Give me a few moments,” he said. “I’ll patch this right up.”

  “Thank you, sir,” she said. “You don’t know how many rocks have been in my shoe the last week.”

  He sent her a weird look, then turned away and got to work. Rayla watched him for a moment, then returned to Callum’s side. Him and Ezran browsed through the displays of new, polished boots. 

  Callum let out a wistful sigh. “My boots haven’t been clean since..” He started, trailing off. 

  “Ever,” Ezran finished. 

  Callum frowned. Rayla snorted, then looked around. She felt like something was missing. Someone. Soren had usually made a stupid joke by now. 

  “Hey,” she said, turning away, noticing the empty space. The shop was empty, save for them and the old cobbler. “Where are Soren and Corvus?” 

~

For the first time in two weeks, the nightmares returned. 

  Though, this time, they weren’t about her sister, or that cryptic Startouch Elf. They were from before. During the time the city fell, and after. The time they had to kill their own, the infected. 

  Her dreams were graphic memories she didn’t want to remember, splattered with blood and gore. She tossed and turned all night, sweat soaking her brow. When she finally awoke, it was early morning. She was breaking out in a cold sweat and gasping for air. 

  She scrambled out of bed only to empty last night’s dinner in the waste bin, trying to get the image of the dead, twisted bodies out of her head. She downed a cup of water after, trying to get the foul taste out of her mouth. She ignored the meal left out on the table, feeling nauseous, and ignored her messied bed. The servants could tend to it later today. 

  She washed up and dressed faster than usual, eager to get to the meeting, to get her mind off her horrible dreams. She swore she could still hear the high-pitched screams in her mind, echoing in her ears. 

  Finally, she reached for the crown as she stood in front of the mirror. She paused before she put it on, frowning at the reflection in the mirror. She had so much riding her shoulders, now more than ever. That’s why the meeting later this morning was so important. She finished putting her crown on and wiped her sweaty palms off at her sides, turning and finally leaving her tent. 

  The walk to the meeting place was only a few minutes. Now more than ever, she enjoyed the fresh air. It allowed her to clear her head, if only for a few moments. She took deep breaths, trying to calm herself before going in front of her council, aware of the two guards tailing her as she walked through the camp. 

  It was about the time in the morning where mostly everyone was up and about for the day. The sky was blue and cloudless, stretching endlessly above them. It wasn’t too warm yet, accompanied by a light breeze. Guards were still patrolling, others coming back from the night watch, rubbing their eyes and dragging their feet tiredly. She nodded at each guard she saw, silently thanking them. 

  They had increased patrons in light of the recent events. Knowing that made Janai feel at least a bit better. 

  When she reached the large tent that had been their temporary Council Chamber for the last two years, she was surprised to survey the sight in front of her, raising her eyebrows. The council members, usually who were seated by now and silently awaiting her arrival, were still gathered outside the tent. They stood in groups, huddled together, talking in low, hushed voices. Their expressions were grim, guarded. 

  They stood around, whispering. They looked like a bunch of gossiping teenagers. Janai almost laughed, but the sight just bewildered her. Usually, they were sticklers on being proper and polite. For them to be acting like this, something had to be wrong. Whatever they were talking about wasn’t good. 

  She continued walking forward, face drawn. Izayah, one of the councilors on the younger side, recognized her almost immediately. They locked eyes with her as she strode across the field, quickly breaking the distance between them. They went pale, eyes wide upon seeing her. 

  “My Queen,” they murmured politely as she came to stand in front of them, followed by a head dip and small bow. 

  “Rise, Councilor,” she instructed, tongue a bit sharper than she meant. She didn’t have time for bowing and formalities. They had much to do, much to discuss. The safety of the people within this camp was her first priority, not people tripping over themselves. 

  “As you wish,” Councilor Izayah replied promptly, rising and nodding at the same time. She held her tongue. 

  Janai’s gaze flitted around them, at the councilors still gathered in groups and not in their seats like usual. “What’s going on?”

  “Apologies, Your Radiance,” Izayah automatically apologized, eyebrows furrowed and expression worried. “They are discussing the recent news. We just received word.” They shook their head. “So sad. Such a tragedy.” 

  It was Janis’s turn to furrow her eyebrows. “What news?”

  They licked their lips, just looking confused. “You don’t know?”

  “What news, Councilor?”

  Her voice was tight, strained. Her impatience shined through. Councilor Izayah looked taken aback. They raised their eyebrows in response, taking a small step back. Janai stared at them expectantly, awaiting for their answer. Their sour, twisted expression made her stomach drop. 

  The crown suddenly felt so heavy atop her head. 

  “Your Majesty,” they said slowly, like they were breaking bad news to a child. “The guard, Keagan.. He died this morning.”

~

“We lost the king!” Soren shouted, turning and shaking Corvus by the shoulders. 

  Several people turned to look at them in the crowded marketplace. “Calm down,” Corvus whispered furiously. “Blending in, remember? Most people don’t yell about losing their kings.” 

  “I know!” Soren whispered-shouted. “Which is why it’s a big deal. We have to find him! Something bad could happen to him!”

  “Like what?” Corvus replied. “Being attacked by loaves of bread?”

  “I’m serious, Corvus. You’re a tracker. Do something!” Soren frowned deeply. “Opeli is going to kill us.” 

  Corvus’s expression tightened, and he looked around thoughtfully. “They were just here,” he said, gesturing to the marketplace around them. “They couldn’t have gone far.”

  “Especially with all those scammers around,” Soren added. 

  “Soren, for the last time, the vendors aren’t scammers—“

  “Nooo,” Soren echoed. “They all just all happen to be selling things impeded with pure gold.” 

  Corvus shot him a weird look. “We should split up—“

  “What?” He exclaimed. “I thought we were good friends!”

  “—to look for the others,” Corvus finished. “Ezran is probably with Callum and Rayla.” 

  “Ohhh, that makes more sense,” Soren exclaimed, then gasped. “We have to get to them before they traumatize him with their weird, couple-ly behavior.”

  “I agree,” Corvus said. “We should get moving.”

  “Yeah,” Soren agreed. “Whatever you think is best.”

  “Soren,” Corvus grunted. “Could you let go of me now?”

  Soren looked down at his hands and realized he was still clutching Corvus by the shoulders. He pulled away, face warming. He cleared his throat, running a hand through his hair. “Oh,” he said, blinking. “Sorry.”

  Corvus blinked right back. “It’s alright.” He pointed behind him. “I’ll check all the alleys. You check the vendors, alright?”

  “Sure thing,” Soren grinned, sending him two thumbs up, then instantly regretting it. “I’d wish you good luck, but don’t need it.”

  Corvus paused, turning back to look at the Crownguard. He raised an eyebrow. “Really? Why not?”

  “Because you’re, like, amazing at what you do,” Soren said, taken back.

  “I am?”

  “Yeah. Like, seriously, dude. Like when we were finding Zym’s mom, and all the other times behind that.” He shrugged. “You’re amazing at everything you do, actually.”

  “You’re amazing too,” Corvus said, scratching the back of his neck. “You carried me like half a mile when my leg was acting up.”

  “Oh, that? Who wouldn’t carry their friend half a mile?” Soren said, punching Corvus lightly on the shoulder. He pulled away, growing serious. “You really mean that?”

  “Of course,” Corvus replied, voice level and serious. Their eyes locked, their bodies still.  “I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it.” He paused, looking away. “I especially meant when I said you had a great heart. I really l—“

  The moment was broken by a shuffling from their side. The men blinked, looking at each other, and then turned around. 

  “Wait,” Corvus said, raising his head and looking around. “I thought I heard something.” 

  “Me too,” Soren added. 

  Corvus walked over to investigate, eyebrows furrowed. He checked behind a stack of barrels and found the culprit, or rather, culprits. There, huddled on the ground and hiding behind the barrels, were Callum, Rayla, and Ezran, Bait bundled in his arms.

  “I found the king,” Corvus deadpanned, offering them a hand as they stood up and stepped out of their hiding place. 

  Ezran took it, pulling himself up. “I hope we didn’t worry you,” he said, voice sincere.

  “I hope we didn’t interrupt you,” Rayla said, raising one eyebrow and looking knowingly at Callum. 

  “Why were you hiding behind barrels?” Soren asked, scratching his head. 

  “We were coming back from the cobbler,” Rayla explained, pointing to the building across the street. “I got my shoe fixed, and we were coming back, and we saw you two having a nice heart-to-heart.”

  “And we didn’t want to interrupt,” Callum added. 

  “Yeah,” Ezran interrupted. 

  “So you hid behind a bunch of barrels and spied on us?” Corvus finished, arms crossed. 

  “Yep,” Rayla said, nodding along. “Pretty much.”

  Corvus sighed and slapped a hand to his forehead. “Checks out.”

  There was silence for a moment, and then Callum spoke up. “So, are you two—“

  “It’s complicated,” Soren said. 

  “We’re not talking about this right now,” Corvus said at the same time, and the two looked at each other, confused. 

  “And that’s my cue to leave,” Rayla said, spinning on her heel and beginning to walk away with her hands stuffed in her pockets. 

  “I believe it’s time to go, Your Majesty,” Corvus said, placing a hand on Ezran’s shoulder and guiding him away. “It’s almost your curfew.”

  “But I’m the king,” Ezran exclaimed. “I shouldn’t have a curfew.”

  “Yes. Life is very unfair.”

  Callum shot Soren a look. “We’re.. unpacking this all later, okay?” 

  “Wait,” Soren said as they walked away. “Were you there the whole time?” 

  No one replied. 

Chapter Text

Two days later, the camp prepared for the arrival of half of Duren’s army. Preparations were made to feed the soldiers and more tents were put up to shelter them. With them, they brought more supplies— food, medicine, needed supplies to start rebuilding. 

  After all the planning, the rebuilding was just about to begin. 

  Callum sat in the meeting tent. It was late morning by now. They had a meeting in a few moments about the other army’s arrival. Callum knew Ezran had a welcome speech planned, one he had complained about as Opeli had made him rehearse it. 

  Ezran sat next to him now, talking with Queen Aanya. “So,” he asked, legs swinging in his chair. “Are you excited about some of your people coming here?”

  She tilted her head in thought. “Yeah, I suppose. I’m glad to be able to help Katolis.” She paused, blinking. “A few of my advisors are coming too though. I’m not sure I’ve missed all their hovering.” 

  Ezran snickered at that. 

  Rayla leaned closer to him, breaking his eavesdropping on their conversation. The small lily from yesterday was still tucked behind her left ear, though a bit dried and withered, and he smiled to himself. “Excited for this super cool council meeting?” She asked sarcastically. 

  “Yep,” he answered, popping the p. “Just like all the others.” 

  These days, all the meetings seemed to blur together. It was mostly nonsense about supplies and construction, and the occasional one about civilians being loud and rowdy. That was the most excitement Callum had seen in weeks. 

  “Guys,” Ezran spoke up, and they all looked at him. “Look alive. It’s not everyday we get to play welcome committee.”

  Soren nodded, sitting at the end of the table with his arms crossed. “We have to give them a warm welcome,” he insisted, then rubbed at the stubble growing along his jawline. “I should tell Barius to make more sugar-honey-bread.”

  “I think we’re out of sugar,” Ezran deadpanned. 

  “I think my soldiers are fine,” Aanya chimed in. 

  Soren only shook his head, accepting his defeat. “You guys don’t know what you’re missing.”

  “You can keep your soggy bread,” Rayla retorted, and they all laughed. 

  For a moment, everything seemed fine. It was like this was any other High Council meeting, and there were goofing off like the young people they should’ve got to be. 

  The tent flaps were pushed open and the moment was over. The laughter slowly tempered out. Opeli walked in, Barius, Amaya, and Gren following after her. She looked as stern as ever. 

  She looked around before she sat down. “Good morning,” she said. “Let's begin, shall we?” 

~

Her body moved subconsciously, taking her down a familiar path. She ignored the protests of the councilors as she left, the guards calling her name. Her feet carried her back to the medic’s tent, as if for confirmation. 

  A part of her was in shock. A part of her expected this. 

  By the time she reached the medic’s tent, she knew something was up. Something was wrong. It was too quiet— no healers running back and forth, no shouting for more medicine or bandages. There seemed to be a sad, somber feeling in the air already. 

  She ducked into the tent and was met with a grave sight. On the cot in the corner was a shape of a body, a white sheet draped over it. A nurse was starting to strip the bed of its bloodied, dirtied covers. Makai stood in the corner, bent over a desk. He was standing in front of a parchment. 

  She watched as he leaned over and dipped the tip of the pen into the nearby inkwell, printing something across the paper in his neat scrawl. A death certificate, she realized. Something in her chest tightened. 

  Just then, he looked up, meeting her gaze. His expression was grim. He shook his head. 

  “We did everything we could,” he said, voice heavy.

  “I know,” Janai replied, blinking. She tried her best to avoid the body laying in the corner. “Have you told the family?” 

  Makai dipped his head in confirmation. 

  As if on cue, the flap to the tent blew open, and barreling in came a distressed young woman. Her breathing was hitched, her dark brown eyes wide. There were already twin tear tracks running down her cheeks. A guard, probably the one to deliver the bed news, followed in after her, his expression one of distance. 

  Janai’s heart twisted in her chest at the sight. 

  “Tell me it isn’t true!” She exclaimed, holding a hand to her chest. “It can’t be. It can’t be.”

  When no one replied right away, the woman grew more frantic. She looked from Janai, to the guard, to Makai. “I’m Taliyah. I’m his sister. Where is he?” She spun around. “Where is Keagan?” 

  Makai stepped forward, his expression softening ever so slightly. “I’m very sorry for your loss, Taliyah. We all mourn with you.”

  Taliyah let out a gasp. It seemed to sink in as her gaze snapped to the bed in the corner, to the limp figure under it. She let out a gasp, clutching her chest. More tears gathered under her lashes, spilling down her cheeks. 

  Her bottom lip quivered. “No, no, no,” she cried, in disbelief. 

  She wobbled on her feet. Instinctively, Janai placed a hand on her shoulder, steadying her. She looked at her, but it was as if she were looking through Janai. She wasn’t processing everything. 

  “If it’s any consolation,” Makai continued, trying to console the grieving woman. “He fought to the very end. He was in much pain, and now he is no longer.” The old healer swallowed thickly. “He died in a noble way, a warrior’s death. He died trying to protect his people.”

  Janai could tell the words did not reach Taliyah’s ears. She was too far gone, drowning in her sorrow. She trembled in her grasp, shoulders wrecked by full-on sobs. She rocked on her feet, and Janai placed another hand on her shoulder to steady her. 

  Suddenly, the woman buried herself in her side, crying onto her shoulder. The guard behind them stepped forward, instinctively reaching for Taliyah to pull her off Janai. It was unceremonious for someone to throw themselves on the queen, but Janai held up a hand, telling him to stop. She wouldn’t deny a grieving woman any semblance of comfort. 

  “He’s gone,” Taliyah was saying over and over under her breath. “He’s gone.”

  Gently, Janai pulled away. She held Keagan’s sister at arms length. “He was brave. Very brave,” she said softly. “He will be honored as such.”

  Taliyah slowly nodded, barely registering it. Finally, a nurse came forward, taking her hand and guiding her away. They sat her down on a nearby cot, offering a cup of water and kind words. Janai watched as they wrapped a blanket around her shaking frame, hiccuping. 

  She turned away to see Makai watching too, a sad frown on his face. He took off his spectacles, wiped them on his sleeve, and then put them back on. He cleared his throat, and met Janai’s level gaze. “If we do not act soon,” he said, dead serious. “This will only be the beginning.”

  A sudden chill fell over the medical tent. 

  “Write to your wife,” he instructed. “Tell her to come home. You will need help for what is to come next.”

  Janai nodded in understanding. With that, the old healer bore a heavy sigh, and then turned to sign off the death certificate.   

~

The firelight illuminated the tree line around them, the shadows leaping and dancing. The dark mage paced the perimeter of the small clearing, visibly stressed, and the elf sat on the fallen log by the fire, drawing lines into the dirt with the tip of his shoe. 

  “Shouldn’t he be back by now?” Claudia said, hands tugging at her now shorter hair. “It’s been dark for hours!”

  “He’ll be fine,” Terry hummed. 

  “How are you so sure?” Claudia cried. 

  “One of the most powerful elves in history, remember? I think he’ll be fine,” Terry deadpanned, frowning as his foot hit a rock. 

  “Yeah,” Claudia said. “Besides, he’s probably just getting used to being outside again. You know, taking a long walk, taking it all in.”

  “I don’t think you have to worry about him getting hurt, anyway,” Terry added, a dark look crossing his face, one he quickly hid, turning away. The firelight flickered on. 

  Claudia ceased her pacing, furrowing her eyebrows. She turned to face her boyfriend. “What was that face for?”

  Terry looked up at her defensively, shrugging. “What face?”

  “You made a face!” Claudia exclaimed. 

  “No, I didn’t!” He fought back. 

  She pointed an accusing finger at him. “Yes, you did! Sources, Terry, just tell me. What are you thinking?”

  Terry sighed, giving in. He slumped over the log, elbows on his knees. “I’m just saying,” He said slowly, not meeting Claudia’s eyes. “I wouldn’t worry about him getting hurt. More like him wandering off. I mean, now that he’s free, what’s keeping him here? Who says he won’t just leave us? That he was just using us to get out of his prison?”

  Claudia’s expression pinched. She wouldn’t even consider it. “No, he wouldn’t do that.” She shook her head. “No. We did what he asked, and now we’re working together. It’s all a part of his plan.”

  “Yeah,” Terry scoffed, using a stick to poke at the fire. “The plan he won’t tell us anything about.” 

  Claudia turned on him, fists balled up at her sides. “You don’t know what you’re talking about, Terry! He has a plan, and he wants us to help.”

  “I’m just saying,” Terry replied, tilting his head. “If I had centuries to figure out some plan, it would probably be more thought out than whatever this is.” He looked up, meeting Claudia’s gaze. “I mean, what are we doing? We’ve been sitting in the woods for days.”

  Claudia didn’t reply, chewing at her lower lip. 

  “Let me guess,” Terry snorted. “This is all a part of his great plan?” 

  “If you’re so skeptical,” Claudia snapped. “Then why are you still here?”

  Terry winced, hurt. He recoiled as if her words were burning poison. He opened his mouth to reply, then closed it, shaking his head. It wasn’t worth it. 

  The sound of branches snapping in the distance made them jump out of it. Aaravos appeared from behind the surrounding trees, shoving a low-hanging branch out of his way. Claudia and Terry immediately straightened up. 

  Claudia crossed her arms and turned away, returning to pacing. Terry went back to staring blankly at the dirt under him, casting weary glances up as Aaravos walked up. 

  Claudia had to admit, seeing him was still strange, even to her. She had to do double takes every then and now upon seeing him. Sometimes, when she couldn’t sleep at night, she had to roll over and catch a glimpse of Aaravos’s shape huddled away on his own bedroll. It felt too good to be true. After all this time, he was finally freed. 

  Aaravos held a bundle in his arms— a plethora of flowers and twisted roots. He had one eyebrow raised, as if only having the energy to look half interested. “Did I interrupt something?” He asked. 

  “No,” Claudia and Terry said at the same time, their tones both sharp and bitter. 

  “Ah,” Aaravos said, clicking his tongue. “Alright then.”

  Without another word, the Startouch elf dropped the bundle on the ground. He dropped to his knees, bending over, and got to work, sorting the ingredients into small piles. Terry frowned, bringing his knees to his chest. He seemed to look anywhere but at where Aaravos was sitting on the floor. 
  
  “I was gathering ingredients for a certain spell,” he explained when no one asked. 

  Claudia moved, uncrossing her arms. She stilled in her pacing.  “You should’ve told me. I would’ve helped,” she insisted. “I could’ve—“

  Aaravos shook his head “No, my dear. This is a very.. specific spell.” His head rose, his back still to her. “It has to be cast by the person who will undergo its.. transformation.”

  Claudia’s nose wrinkled. “‘Transformation’?” She repeated. “What is this for?”

  “You’ll see in time, Claudia,” Aaravos replied, still bent over his work. A shadow crossed over half his face, almost sinisterly. “It’s all a part of my plan.”

  Claudia grew quiet, not knowing quite how to respond. She looked over at Terry, who still refused to look at her. 

  The fire crackled on in the background. A single ember, alone, rose into the dark sky.

Chapter Text

It was nearly midday when she received the letter.

  It had been about two weeks since their departure from the encampment at Lux Aurea— one week spent traveling on the road, and the other spent at the new camp in Katolis. Two weeks without any word from her wife. 

  A part of her knew the mail delivery time across the border could take a long time, and the other part of her knew Janai was busy with her own affairs, but she had begun to worry. She had tried to stomp down her worries, convincing herself it was fine, that she already had enough to worry about— like the kingdom she had sworn to help rebuild, nonetheless the kingdom she had just married into. 

  But she still worried, especially during the nights she tossed and turned, her mind plagued by the burdens of thoughts. 

  Amaya was just about to start penning her own letter when the soldier entered the tent, holding out a letter. She turned at her head when she was aware of the blur of motion to her right. The familiar seal caught her gaze immediately. She took the letter from the guard’s hand, nodded her thanks, and they left as quickly as they came. 

  She gazed down at the envelope for a moment, wondering what the letter’s contents contained, whether endearing or alarming. Were they words of a loving wife— or more bad news? She slowly reached for the letter opener on the desk, slicing it open neatly. She took it out carefully, unfolding it, and smoothing out the creases. 

  She recognized her wife’s handwriting instantly, as careful and thoughtful as a queen’s should be. She took a deep breath, then began to read. The letter started out okay enough, telling her she was missed, and she hoped everything was well in Katolis. 

  That is when it got worse. 

  Amaya’s heart raced faster as she read on. Something was wrong in the camp. There had been an attack, a guard, and he had later lost his life. Due to the wounds and the body of an animal that had also been found, they thought the infected animals of the fallen city were drawing dangerously close to the camp. 

  She furrowed her eyebrows. The animals didn’t usually seem to stray from the city limits, and only came out at night. That’s why Janai banned anyone from returning in the first place. But maybe something had changed, something in the air had shifted. Something was different. 

  Her eyes scanned the final lines, reading on. The last words jumped out at her, written in sloppier matter, as if written in a rush, in desperation. 

  I need you. Please come home. 

  Amaya had thrown down the letter and stood up, halfway out of her tent, before she even knew it, barely processing the letter. She nearly ran into Gren as she walked outside, who was about to come in. She knew they had a meeting soon, but that didn’t matter at the moment. 

  He stepped back, took one look at her expression, and raised his eyebrows. What’s wrong?

  She didn’t offer any context, only stopping to sharply sign a few words and then shoulder past him. Pack. We’re leaving. 

~

Callum fidgeted with his hands under the table, sitting in council meeting for what felt like the millionth time that week. He was barely listening, tugging on a thread on the edge of his sleeve. 

  In his defense, most of the talking had been between Opeli, Kazi, and Queen Aanya. Duren’s army had arrived last night, and they had settled in just fine. To his side, Ezran yawned, looking as bored as he felt, and he noted it. Perhaps they had stayed up a little too late last night. They had thrown the best welcome party this side of the border, or so Soren said. 

  Aanya planned to lead her army back out to the ruins the following day to survey more of the damage. Callum was still debating if he wanted to tag along or not. He wanted to help in any way possible, but staring at the remains of his home was honestly just depressing. Plus, they probably had it handled. 

  With Kazi’s, who had taken notes the first time they returned to Katolis, help, they were starting to draft a second list of needed supplies. Duren’s forces had brought supplies with them, but it was mostly relief— more food and medical supplies— things they needed more of immediately. Next time, they would bring supplies needed to rebuild, and more supplies would be shipped in from all around Katolis, and rebuilding would finally begin. 

  It was hard to believe it had only been a few weeks. The thought of all that was ahead seemed so daunting. Callum tried not to think about it. He tried to focus on what was in front of him. One day at a time. 

  Breaking out of his trance, Callum looked around the table. Opeli was listening to Queen Aanya, who was still detailing the extent of the supplies her forces brought with them. Kazi was frantically scribbling down notes. Soren had his head in his hands, looking bored. Corvus, sitting next to him, was staring at the ceiling. Ez was staring blankly at the tabletop, Zym half asleep at his feet, and Rayla, closest to him, looked about ready to fall asleep. She was leaning back in her chair, slumped backwards. 

  As if on cue, the tent flaps flew open, the cool breeze of a late summer day rolling in, followed by loud footsteps. Rayla startled awake, nearly falling out of her chair. Callum put out one hand to steady her.

  She flinched. “What? I was awake!” 

  Across the table, Soren snorted. “Right, and I’m the king of the Tidebound elves.” 

  “Actually,” Kazi started, and everyone turned to look at them. “The Tidebound elves don’t really have a king. It’s more of a…” They trailed off awkwardly, clearing their throat. “Wooden planks,” they said, turning back to the young queen of Duren. 

  “Wait,” Soren said slowly. “The Tidebound elves are ruled by wooden planks?”

  Corvus audibly sighed, rubbing at his temples. 

  The scholar cringed. “No— Uh, Queen Aanya, where were we? Wooden planks?”

  The queen simply nodded. 

  The tent fell quiet as two new figures strode in. Callum turned back to the entrance of the tent. A scattering of stray sunlight hit him in the eye, and he blinked it back. His aunt marched in, followed by an alarmed looking Gren. 

  Rayla, rubbing the sleep from her eyes, sat up. “What’s wrong now?” She frowned. “Did someone die?” 

  No one died, Amaya quickly assured them. We’re just leaving. 

  “I know it’s sudden,” Gren added, scratching at the back of neck. He sent a side glance to his general. “And someone is being unnecessarily cryptic.”

  Amaya rolled her eyes and began to sign fastly. “We have important matters to tend to,” he translated. “I must return at once, but I trust you’ll be just fine here.” 

  Callum furrowed his eyebrows. This was all so unexpected. “Is it that urgent?” 

  Amaya nodded sharply. Yes. I just must go. 

  Suddenly, Soren gasped. “Is the queen okay?” He asked. “Is she dying?”

  Amaya only frowned. For the last time, she insisted. No one is dying. 

  “Well, now that is established,” Opeli spoke, standing up and drawing the attention to herself. “We should let the general leave. She obviously has pressing matters to tend to.” She nodded. “We thank you for all your help. Katolis will always welcome you.” 

  Amaya dipped her head, her gaze going to everyone around the table, and falling on her nephews. She made her way around the table, stopping to give Corvus and Soren affectionate bumps on the shoulder, then paused between Ezran and Callum. She gave them a quick hug and nodded at Rayla, as if telling her to look out for them. She nodded back. 

  “Write to us if you need anything,” Ezran said once she pulled away. 

  “Take care,” Callum added. 

    And then she was gone, the tent flap waving limply in the wind. Everyone was quiet for a moment, processing. 

  “Well,” Rayla deadpanned. “That happened.”

  “I hope everything will be okay,” Ezran said thoughtfully. 

  “So,” Kazi prompted again after a moment. “Where were we? Wooden planks?”

  Rayla groaned rather dramatically and folded against the table. 

~

“What is he doing?” Terry repeated for the third time that hour. 

  Claudia turned on her boyfriend, throwing a sharp glance over her shoulder. She violently shushed him, holding a finger to her lips, signaling for him to be quiet. They sat on the floor, the fire dying in front of them. 

 In the flickering light of the last embers, Claudia squinted to catch a glimpse of the Startouch Elf on the other side of the quenched flames. He sat on the ground, legs crossed neatly under him. They hadn’t dared to disturb him, keeping it down. For the last hour, Aaravos had seemed to be under some sort of trance, performing his spell. 

  Claudia had sat, hands on her knees, and watched in rapt attention, fascinated, as the man followed the steps he seemed to have memorized. She watched as he sorted his ingredients into tiny bundles and asked Claudia for her mortar and pestle. She watched as he crushed up the herbs and small bones of whatever sorry creature had been needed for this spell. She watched on as he closed his eyes and whispered something under his breath, lips twitching, mouth and tongue rolling in some sort of old chant. 

  She couldn’t quite catch the words, no matter how hard she tried. She frowned, furrowing her eyebrows in frustration, while Terry just looked uncomfortable, staring down at his own feet rather than the elven mage. 

  She watched now as he took a deep breath, chest rising and falling through the cloak drawn around his shoulders, and opened his eyes, ceasing his cryptic chanting. She watched as he leaned over and drew something from her bag, something pointed. It glinted in the firelight, and the breath caught in the firelight. It was her dagger. 

  She had carried it with her ever since she had first started traveling more. She had her magic to defend herself, sure, but having the weapon as a backup made her sleep better at night. 

  Aaravos looked down at it for a moment, as if testing its weight, looked up and locked eyes with her, and then promptly drove the blade into his palm, making a straight, practiced cut down his hand. Claudia blinked in surprise, not expecting that. The more she had gotten into her study of dark magic, the more she knew certain spells required blood as an ingredient, for certain spells like transformation or tracking, but especially for powerful spells. Blood was the source of life, after all. Power practically spilled out of it. 

  The blood welled up immediately, a dark scarlet. Her frowned, holding his hand over the bowl and making a fist, squeezing and watching, satisfied, as red droplets of blood dripped downwards and into the mortar. Upon hitting the mixture, it began to sizzle, small puffs of black smoke beginning to rise. 

  Aaravos grinned, shadows playing across his face. Blood still ran down his hand, dripping onto the forest floor. Drip, drip. 

  Terry looked away, face twisted in an unreadable expression. He shifted away uncomfortably while Claudia leaned closer, palms on the ground, curious, intrigued. 

  “What does that mean?” She questioned, eyes searching his face for answers. 

  “That means,” Aaravos said slowly. He reached for an old rag and wiped his hand, the red staining the once snow white towel. “It’s working.”  

Chapter Text

“Queen Janai,” Councilor Uriel said as she walked into the Council Chamber the next hour. 

  She had taken time to compose herself after receiving the news of the guard’s passing, after seeing the body herself. She swore she could still hear his sister Taliyah’s cries in her mind, and she shook her head. She had to focus. This meeting was more important than ever. 

  At Uriel’s exclamation, the rest of the council turned to look at her, almost looking surprised to see her. She couldn’t blame them. She had run out of the meeting just an hour prior, and this was their first meeting in a while. They had been busy with the wedding, then her brother’s betrayal, and now all this. 

  It had been a stressful few weeks, to say the least. 

  Now, she surveyed everyone sitting around the long table, all the members of her council. She didn’t bother to sit, coming to stand at the front of the table. “Let’s begin,” she said, ignoring their questioning glances. “As you know, Keagan, the guard attacked the other night, died this morning.” She swept them all with a knowing gaze. “I trust you all discussed this already.”

  She watched them all exchange concerning and confused glances with one another. 

  “He died from his wounds. He lost his leg,” Janai kept on, now pacing the expanse of floor in front of the table. The Councilor’s eyes burned into the back of her neck. “It was bitten off. The healers believe it was an animal, and a big one by the size of the jaw.” 

  “Banther?” Lieutenant Kaia asked instantly. 

  Janai briefly considered it. “Most likely. There are not many other animals around here that are that big.”

  “Oh, let me lead a hunting party,” General Samir, sitting next to the lieutenant, instructed, pounding his fist on the tabletop. The general was always a loud man, insisting they did things fast and violently. Janai had thought about replacing him more than once. “I’ll have it brought down in no time.” He stroked his chin thoughtfully. “It would look good mounted on my wall.”

  The lieutenant frowned, sending him an annoyed side glance. How those two put up with each other was past Janai. She cleared her throat, and they both shifted. 

  “Thank you for your.. concern,” Janai said. “But I believe it is best to stay put and avoid facing the threat head on, at least until we know more about what we’re going up against.”

  “Was it corrupted?” The new priestess Saniya asked in a small voice. She had been the apprentice of their former priest and had always been soft spoken. 

  Janai turned to her. “We believe so.” She blinked. “Keagan’s wounds were.. infected. In the same way we’ve seen with the other infected bites.”

  “Did you take care of the body?” General Samir cut in again. “It’s best to burn it. Get rid of the disease.”

  “Samir!” Lieutenant Kaia exclaimed, eyes wide. “Someone just died. Give the family time to mourn.”

  “The most important thing is keeping the people safe and the camp secure,” Janai interrupted them before they could go on. “All we know is the corrupted creatures are coming closer.” Her gaze swept over the others again. “Any suggestions?”

  “We will continue doubling patrols, especially at night,” Lieutenant Kaia spoke up. “We will partner every soldier up. No one goes anywhere alone past dark.”

  “We’ll make another announcement,” Councilor Uriel added, and Councilor Izayah nodded in agreement. “We will continue the mandatory curfew, sunset until sunrise, and remind them of all the rules— keep children and pets inside, and keep noise and light to a minimum so you don’t draw in anything.. unwanted.”

  “And if that doesn’t work?” Priestess Saniya asked. Beside her, the Court Mage Alden shifted in his seat uncomfortably. 

  “We move,” Lieutenant Kaia replied. 

  “We storm the city and kill all those beasts,” General Samir practically shouted. 

  Janai rubbed her temples with one hand, sighing. She imagined this was how her parents felt when her and her siblings used to fight. “No,” she said harshly. “We’re not doing that.” She collected herself, clapping her hands together. “If something else happens, we evacuate half of the camp, the side that has the most trouble. Worst case scenario is we move further from the city.” 

  The general snorted. The lieutenant nodded. Alden looked significantly more uncomfortable. Everyone else stared blankly at the tabletop. 

  What a productive meeting, Janai thought bitterly. 

  “Anything else?” She asked, looking around. 

  Someone coughed. 

  “Council meeting dismissed,” she declared. “Come to me immediately if anything happens. And, remember, the safety of our people is our number one priority.”

  They all nodded and stood from their seats, stretching. They all left eagerly, trailing out the exit, except for one— Court Mage Alden. He was a Sun Mage and on the younger side. Janai had known his predecessor, Court Mage Jovan. He had been the Court Mage since Janai was a child. He had passed a few years ago, and Alden had taken over. She knew him as a quiet, fidgety man with a nervous energy. Smart, but awkward and conscious of himself. 

  Turning to him, she raised her eyebrows. “Yes?” She asked, directed towards him. 

  Immediately, he seemed to shrink against his chair. He swallowed thickly, gulping. “Your Majesty,” he began slowly. “Have you ever considered returning to the city?”

  In the months following the fall of the great city, they had summoned mages from all over Xadia, mages from all arcanums. They had tried a lot of spells, a few rituals, even a few exchanged talismen. Nothing had worked. The corruption had been too great, and only worsened. Now all the creatures that resided there were tainted by an unnatural darkness. Over the years, their attempts had lessened, but she still had contacts that were looking for something, anything, turning to old tomes and spell books and history books alike. 

  She dropped her eyebrows. “No,” she replied. “Wasn’t planning on it.”

  “It’s just…” He trailed off. “Investigating the root of the problem may be.. beneficial.” 

  Janai nodded, following. “Well, that’s certainly a possibility.” She paused, considering the mage with a curious look. “Why? Have you found anything?”

  “I’m not sure, Your Majesty,” he answered. “I’ve been researching purity and light spells alike for months now. But I think I’m getting closer. I can feel it.”

  She nodded again. “You’re dismissed, Alden. Thank you.” She turned away, straightening her shoulders. “And if you ever find anything, come to me immediately.” 

  The mage dipped his head. “Of course, my queen.” 

  With that, he was gone, and she was alone again. 

~

Even Claudia slowly began to question Aaravos’s intentions. The longer he turned his back on her, brewing potions and performing spells, the longer the sour feeling in her stomach curdled. They were supposed to be in this together. That was why she did everything in her power to get him out. She was to be rewarded for her determination, for her loyalty. 

  They would show everyone who ever turned their backs on them. 

  But whenever she asked him, he gave her the same half-smile, the same head tilt, like he was talking to a small child. “Be patient, child,” he always told her. “You will play your part in due time.” 

  And Claudia always balled her fists up at her side, nails slicing into her palms. She was tired of waiting. She was tired of being patient. 

  So Claudia held her tongue and bid her time. She ignored Aaravos’s coming and going, gathering more ingredients for mysterious spells, whispering under his breath. She ignored Terry pulling further and further away from her, talking less and less until their makeshift camp was choked through with silence, the kind that suffocated. 

  She told herself it was okay. She didn’t need him for this. Let him sit and sulk, let him judge her. Everyone else already did. But she would do whatever was required, whatever that would avenge her father. She would finish what he couldn’t. 

  She only needed Aaravos. She only needed her magic. 

  But even now, crouched behind the bushes in the woods, she held her tongue. They had been traveling for days towards the border, further from Katolis. They had been laying low, waiting, regrouping. As far as she knew, they had no clue Aaravos had escaped his prison. They were too busy scrambling to regroup themselves, to worry about rebuilding. 

  She felt a pang in her chest, in her heart, when she thought about Katolis for too long. It had been the place she was born, where she grew up, once her home. But it hadn’t been her home for a while, not really. She tried her best to chase the thoughts away. 

  It didn’t matter much now anyway. She could only focus on the present, figuring out how to best serve Aaravos and aid his plans, whatever they were. 

  They had stopped for the night at an elven town by the Xadian border. As she used a simple spell to light the fire that night, Aaravos had grinned at her. “I think it’s time we tell the world we’re here, don’t you?”

  The fire caught. Claudia had looked up, confused. Aaravos had left it at that, getting up and walking away, probably off to do another mystery spell. He returned hours later, eyes dark and dancing with the after effects of dark magic. It was night by then, the darkness overcoming them, heavy and thick like a blanket. He had led Claudia and Terry to the edge of town, close to a circle of old cottages, and instructed them to stay here and keep quiet until he needed them. 

  Terry was frowning deeply, as he usually was these days, but obeyed. They crouched behind some bushes and stayed hidden from view. They didn’t talk, the air thick with tension. The sound of crickets and the whistle of the wind through the underbrush filled the night air. 

  Claudia looked around them. From her spot on the ground, she could make out a house to the side of them, an old stone cottage with ivy creeping with the sides, the roof old and drooping. She could see a flicker of firelight in the window, the smoke trailing lazily from the chimney. 

  Someone was home. 

  Her chest tightened. She had a bad feeling. What did a random small town have to do with anything? How would they ‘show the world they were here?’ Just what was Aaravos planning? 

  A branch snapped in the distance. Aaravos finally appeared from the fog, the cloak draped over him, hood hanging low over his head, hiding his face. He gestured to Claudia, helping her to her feet. “Now,” he said. “It’s your turn.”

  Claudia furrowed her eyebrows. “My turn for what exactly?”

  “You will see,” Aaravos replied with a small hum. He pushed her a step forward, urging her own. “Knock on the door. I need you to get it open.”

  Claudia’s gaze raked over the cottage, at the light coming from within it. “Do you know who lives there?” She asked, and it sounded stupid the moment it left her mouth. Aaravos had been trapped for decades. Whoever he had known previously was probably long dead. 

  “No,” Aaravos said. “But I’m sure we can be friends, if she’s willing. I have a nice surprise for her, after all.”

  Her heart beat faster. She forced her feet to move, to walk up to the cottage. She stopped in front of the door, fingers tracing over the brass knocker. It was carved with leaf motifs. She felt them cut into her palm as she gripped it and knocked it against the door. 

  She waited for a moment, heart racing. She swore she heard someone moving around inside. Before the door opened, she held her breath. 

  An older woman answered the door. Earthblood elf, by the looks of it. She had light tanned skin and dark hair streaked with gray. She had reading glasses sitting on the edge of her nose, her book still in her hand. It looked like Claudia had interrupted her nightly reading. 

  The elf furrowed her eyebrows, looking her up and down. Claudia knew she looked rough— she had definitely seen better days. “Are you alright, dear?” The woman asked, voice tight with concern. She stepped forward, sticking her head out the door and looking around. “Are you lost?”

  Suddenly, the hair on the back of her neck stood up. There was a cold gust of air from behind her and she registered there was a blur of motion to her side. Something ran past her, brushing against her. All Claudia could process was the cold feeling that had settled over the air, and the shadowy figure in the sides of her vision. 

  Before she could reply, the woman was screaming, raw and primal, a horrible scream. Her book fell from her grasp, sliding to the floor. Claudia dared to look down. 

  The book was still open, its pages smeared with fresh blood. 

  Claudia’s blood turned cold. She stood there, frozen, as the woman flailed on the floor, someone, no, something, stood over her. She closed her eyes, not unseeing the spray of blood, the sound of flesh being torn. The shadowy figure dug and dug. 

  Claudia could stand there as the woman’s throat was ripped out. 

  Eventually, the screams died out. The woman held out a hand, trying to speak, blood gurgling out of the corner of her mouth. She was asking for help, she realized. Claudia only frowned. 

  A moment later, the woman’s hand fell limp. Her eyes were still open, glazed over, her face forever etched with the shock of her last moments. When it was done, the dark figure stood. It then turned to her, as if expecting something. Waiting, she realized. 

  Sick to her stomach, Claudia left the porch and walked back into the darkness, aware of the figure behind her as it left her side and started to the next house. Her ears were covered by the time the shatter of glass was heard, followed by the screams. 

~

Runaan could hardly believe it. He swayed on his feet. 

  Ethari still stood on the other side of the fountain, eyes wide, jaw slack. He was in shock, and Runaan couldn’t exactly blame him. He stood there, staring at the place his husband stood, trying to make sense of the situation. 

  For as many times as he had imagined this exact scenario, as many times as he had rehearsed this, playing it in his head, his words failed him now. His tongue fell limp, useless. The only things he could register was the beating of his heart in his chest and the roar of blood in his ears. 

  He had only waited three years for this. 

  “Runaan,” Ethari breathed, still in disbelief. 

  “Ethari,” he choked out, finding his voice. 

  Ethari took a deep breath, chest rising and falling in time, and then began to move, feet carrying him rather quickly. And then they were standing face to face, breathless. Ethari cupped Runaan’s face, hands warm against his cheeks. He felt his face, his neck, his shoulders, as if to test if he was real. Runaan didn’t blame him. 

  Ethari moved to grab his hands, squeezing them so tight it was almost painful, but Runaan welcomed it, craving his touch after all this time. “Runaan,” he repeated. 

  “Ethari,” he replied again, almost chuckling. 

  Ethari’s expression was pinched, worried, his eyes scanning his body questioningly. “Are you hurt?” He began. “Are you—“

  “No, no,” Runaan instantly reassured him. “I’m fine. I’m fine.”

  “Rayla— Have you—“

  “She’s fine,” he soothed. “I’ve seen her. She’s safe.”

  Ethari let out a breath that he had seemed to be holding for a long time. Three years, to be exact. “You’re all safe,” he breathed, squeezing his hand again. “My heart came back to me.” 

  Runaan smiled and squeezed his husband’s hand back. Ethari’s eyebrows furrowed, bunching up in the middle. “Moons, Runaan,” he swore. “What happened?”

  Runaan frowned. “It’s a long story, love. I’m sorry it took me so long to find you, but I’m just happy to be—“

  Ethari cut him off with a kiss, pressing his lips to his. Runaan jolted, surprised, then melted into it. He came around to cup the nape of his neck, and for the first time in years, he kissed his husband. 

  Inevitably, they pulled apart, Ethari’s forehead resting against his. He laughed, light and breathless, and it tickled Runaan’s cheek, warm against his skin. 

  He had been waiting to hear that laugh again. 

  “I’m happy you’re back too,” he said, then kissed him again. 

  He grinned. 

  “We will talk in the morning,” Ethari said after pulling away for the second time. He was already tugging him in the other direction, refusing to let go. “Come on. Let’s go home.”

Chapter Text

Callum was roused late at night, along with Rayla, summoned to an emergency High Council meeting. They looked at each other as they begrudgingly left the warmth and softness of their bed. They quickly got up and dressed. 

  “You don’t think this like the other time, right?” Rayla asked as she pulled her shirt over the undershirt she had slept in. 

  Callum recalled the last “emergency” meeting they had: when Soren and Corvus had misplaced Hat. They had searched the whole castle for, like, an hour before they found him on a table in the kitchen, where he had gotten into various sweets, laying down in a food coma. 

  Callum snorted. “I sure hope not.”

  Dressed and ready, they trailed the guard who had woken them. Callum watched him as they walked and noticed he was stiff, face downcast. He wondered what this was all about. Was it really that serious? 

  When he and Rayla entered the large tent, everyone else was there, already sitting around the table. Everyone looked like they were pulled from sleep, eyes bleary and red-rimmed. Soren was still in his ridiculous pink pajamas, but they were all wearing the same expression, as if the sky was falling. 

  Callum briefly looked up. Last time he checked, it wasn’t. 

  “Who pissed in your cereal?” Rayla proclaimed, still rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. 

  No one replied, looking up at the two of them with blank looks. Callum chuckled and guided Rayla to sit down, making a mental note to talk to Rayla about manners during High Council meetings. Opeli would have his head if she said that again. 

  That was when he noticed the letter in the middle of the table, right in the middle, placed almost cryptically. The seal was broken, and he instantly recognized it as Xadian. He wrinkled his nose in confusion. 

  Strange, he thought. 

  Without a word, he picked up the piece of parchment, and when no one protested it, he began to read. 

  His heart began to beat faster after reading only the first line. 

To the Esteemed High Council of Katolis, 

It is with deep sorrow and unfathomable rage that I pen this letter to you, a missive borne of grief and bloodshed, of lives lost in a massacre that defies the bounds of reason and honor. The town of Thornwood, a peaceful settlement on our shared border, now lies in ruins. Its streets, once filled with the laughter of children and the quiet contentment of daily life, are now stained with the blood of innocents. Elves who had lived there for generations are now no more than ash and memory.

  Reports from the survivors—those few who managed to escape with their lives—tell of a shadow that descended upon the town in the dead of night. They speak of chaos, of the skies darkened with smoke, and of an attack so brutal and merciless that it could only be born of malice. But what strikes us most grievously is this: they speak of a human, seen just before the slaughter began.

  This human, whose presence has been confirmed by more than one witness, was observed on the outskirts of Thornwood, mere hours before the attack. What was this human doing there? Why was she present so close to the time of this atrocity? And why should we not believe that she was the harbinger of this devastation?

  We demand answers. The Elven Council demands to know why one of your own was seen near Thornwood before its destruction. We demand to know what part she played in this massacre and what your own council intends to do about it.

  Should these answers not be forthcoming, should justice not be served for the lives that were so cruelly taken, we will have no choice but to consider this an act of war. Our lands have long been patient, seeking peace despite the rising tensions, but this massacre cannot and will not be ignored. The blood of our kin cries out for justice, and if you will not provide it, we will take it upon ourselves to see that it is done.

  Understand this as our final warning. The peace between our peoples hangs by a thread, one that your council now holds in its hands. Should it snap, the consequences will be dire, and the lands will be bathed in a war none of us can afford. Choose your next actions wisely.

  In the name of the Earthblood Council,

  Aelrindel Lathalas
 High Lord of the Earthblood Council

  “War,” Soren said softly after he knew they were done reading. “After all this, they’re threatening us with war.” 

  He rubbed a hand over his face, clearly distressed. Beside him, Corvus frowned, moving to place a hand on his shoulder. 

  “Hold on,” Rayla said, voice strained. She had been reading over his shoulder, and he had felt her grip onto him as she did so. Callum knew she was forcing her voice to be steady. This was her home country she was talking about, and they were talking war when they had all just fought for peace. “This is just the Earthblood Council. They don’t speak for all of Xadia. They’re angry, which is justified, but surely not stupid. They can’t possibly wage war against five human kingdoms. They’re only one group of elves. They’d be crushed.”

  “Yes,” Opeli said. “But word travels fast. If the Elven Council convinces the others that the human kingdoms were behind the attack, they’ll rile everyone up. They’ve joined forces before, and they will again. Xadia has many different groups, but it is still all a country after all, and when it comes to war, they’ll fight as one.”

  “Nothing quite brings everyone together like a common enemy,” Soren muttered bitterly. 

  “Hold on,” Rayla cried. “War? We shouldn’t even use that word yet.”

  “Well, they did,” Callum pointed out, the letter still clutched in his hands, creasing it. “They’re threatening it, and we have no choice but to take it seriously.” 

  “But have we crossed that bridge yet?” Rayla said sharply. “For all we know, their threats are empty.”

  “For all we know,” Callum fought back. “Their threats are very, very real.” 

  “Zubeia wouldn’t let this happen,” Ezran spoke up, expression one of deep worry. “We’ve worked so hard for peace. We have alliances, treaties. It can’t come all undone now.” 

  “Zubeia is still recovering,” Corvus cut in. “I’m not sure she’d be well enough yet to rule, nonetheless stop a potential war.” He bit his lip, looking unsure. “Should we send word, just in case?”

  “I don’t know,” Ezran replied. “This is all so sudden.”

  “I can’t believe this is happening,” Soren murmured, rubbing his eyes. 

  “I mean, how could they blame us?” Callum questioned, exasperated. “So what there was a human seen? A human in Xadia is uncommon, but not that uncommon, especially these days, and especially that close to the border.”

  Corvus nodded. “Since the war ended, people have moved closer to the border. We have trade routes set up, and others might be traveling.” 

  “What happened at Thornwood is a tragedy,” Ezran started, trying to explain it. “The elves, blinded by their grief, seek a target for their pain, not the truth. Grief can twist the mind, and in its rage, it clouds judgment, turning sorrow into blame. But a heart consumed by vengeance sees only shadows, never the light of reason.”

  “Right,” Soren echoed. “And how do we get the blinded, grieving elves to not attack us?” He threw his arms up. “In case you haven’t noticed, our army isn't exactly in the shape to fight another war. Our people would suffer even more.” He frowned. “War tends to strike the hardest on those furthest from the battlefield. Civilians always suffer the most.” 

  “Stop talking like that!” Rayla snapped. “You’re acting like a war is actually going to happen. It’s not, so cut it out.” 

  Everyone turned to look at her, stunned. Callum could tell she was breathing hard, overwhelmed, torn between two places she had both come to see as home. And war, just the mere thought of it, was enough to make any person, Xadian or Katolian, scared. 

  Callum put a hand on shoulder, trying to show some silent support. She flinched away, sending him an incredulous side glance. He stepped back, mouth falling open. “Should we get some fresh air—“

  She pushed him off. “No. It’s fine.”

  He frowned. “Are you sure?”

  “I said I’m fine,” she insisted, and he didn’t push it. 

  “We must not react defensively,” Queen Aanya said slowly. “For we are not guilty. We will not allow them to accuse us of such atrocities, but we must be apologetic about the matter. We must be kind, and patient, and show them we’re on the same side. They are already worked up, and we must be careful about how we go about the matter.” She paused, looking solemn. “We must try to protect the fragile peace we have established.” 

  “Yeah? What if they attack us? Then what?” Soren asked, clearly agitated. “What happens when it’s our towns that are leveled, our people being killed? What will being ‘kind’ and ‘patient’ do then?”

  “Violence is not the answer!” Ezran exclaimed. “Whatever we do, we do not engage with them hostilely. There’s no need to provoke them.” 

  “‘Provoke?’” Rayla echoed. “You’re talking about them as if they’re animals.” 

  “They’re threatening us!” Soren said. 

  “That doesn’t mean we do the same,” Ezran insisted, cutting off Rayla before she could argue with Soren. “It doesn’t make us any better.” 

  “An eye for an eye and the whole world goes blind,” Callum muttered, agreeing with his brother. 

  “In my experience, sometimes a violent approach is the right one,” Soren said. “It shows them we’re not to be messed with. They’ll think twice about doing it again. The fight will be over quickly, and then it will be over. Sometimes a little violence, with good intention, is necessary for change, to return to the peace we fought for in the first place.” 

  “In what instance does violence have ‘good intentions?’” Ezran echoed. 

  “This instance?” Soren tried, raising his eyebrows. 

  “No violence is ever good, no matter the intention,” Ezran said, shaking his head. “No matter how you try to justify it. No violence should be necessary.” 

  “If you’re fighting for peace, for the greater good, it might be.” 

  Queen Aanya sniffed, lifting up her chin. “Why must the pursuit of peace always be used to justify more violence? Just the mere possibility of it, and suddenly we forsake the very peace we seek. We become what we claimed we stood against.”

  No one spoke for a moment. Callum watched Rayla work at the inside of her cheek, fidgeting with her sleeve. 

  “We’re not responding with violence,” Ezran said immediately. 

  “There’s no reason to,” Corvus agreed. “Nothing has happened yet.”

  “It might blow over,” Callum jumped in. “Violence is always a last resort anyway.”

  “Yeah,” Soren echoed, voice condescending. “Like if they attack us.”

  “Which hasn’t happened yet,” Rayla cut in. “No need to jump to conclusions.”

  “We have to be prepared for anything,” Soren tried to point out. “Our people have been through enough as it is. It’s my job to protect them, and that’s just what I intend to do.” 

  “Why are you so convinced these elves are out to get you?!” Rayla exclaimed. “They probably sent the same letter to every human kingdom. It’s like you want to see them as the threat, to fight them.” She threw her hands up. “A whole town massacred, and we’re in here arguing over a hypothetical war.” 

  “Rayla, look,” Soren tried, taking a deep breath to calm himself. “We will try our best not to provoke them further, but—“

  “There you go again!” Rayla practically shouted. “Acting they’re less, like they’re the enemy.”

  “Has it ever occurred to you,” Soren said, drawing in a long breath. “That we’ve fought them for centuries, and lost countless people?” 

  “We lost people too!” Rayla exclaimed, voice wavering. She sounded like she wanted to cry. 

  “Has it ever occurred to you,” Soren went on. “No matter how many borders we open, how many alliances we make, how many treaties we sign, there’s been a distrust between humans and elves for generations. Wounds like that take time to heal.” 

  “Well then,” Rayla replied bitterly. “You better dress those wounds and grow up.”

  “Guys,” Ezran pleaded.

  Something in Soren’s jaw ticked. By then, they were face to face, breathing hard. Something in his expression softened, opening his mouth. “Rayla—“

  “And has it ever occurred to you that they’re your people too?” She cried, voice breaking. “That the lines we draw only serve to divide what was never meant to be separated? That their pain is your responsibility as much as their loyalty is your pride?”

  “GUYS,” Ezran finally shouted, and the room went dead silent. “And have either of you considered the fact that this is what they wanted? For us to turn on each other?” He shook his head. “We need to face this together. We’re united as one, or we are nothing.” 

  Everyone looked around, nodding in agreement. Soren turned away. Rayla sighed, crossing her arms. Callum silently placed a hand on her arm, and this time she let him. 

  “How do we intend to respond to this?” Opeli asked after a moment, turning to the young king of Katolis. She still looked shocked, at both the letter and the arguments that had broken out. 

  “We write back,” Ezran said carefully. “We apologize, and offer our condolences. We tell them Katolis mourns with them in these troubling times. We are both victims of misfortune.” 

  “‘Misfortune?’” Rayla whispered. Only Callum could hear it. “Innocents, children, slaughtered in their beds and its misfortune?”

  Callum frowned, squeezing her hand. She didn’t squeeze back like she usually did. 

  “Will they view that as inaction?” Corvus wondered out loud. “They demanded answers, but we have none.”

  “So we tell them that,” Ezran replied. “We offer them our support and hope they can find who’s responsible. If it truly was a citizen of a human kingdom, they have every right to try them for their crimes in their own court.”

  “So, we write?” Soren echoed. “Then what?”

  Ezran stood, looking serious, solemn, stoic. “We wait,” he answered. “And we hope for the best.” 

~

They walked back to the tent in silence after that. 

  Rayla didn’t say anything, and nor did Callum. The tension sat heavily in the air. The unsaid words turned sour between them, curdling. 

  As soon as they got back to their quarters, they shed off their extra clothes and back into their sleeping clothes. Rayla unpinned her hair, letting it fall down her shoulders in a loose ponytail. They crawled back into bed, knowing they’d only get a few more hours of sleep as dawn was not far away. 

  And come dawn, they’d have to face more difficult questions. 

  For once, Callum didn’t tell her goodnight or tell her a dorky joke about the moon. She didn’t tell him goodnight or tell him how horrible said joke was. He didn’t sling an arm over her waist or nuzzle into her shoulder. 

  These last few weeks, she had grown used to his warmth next to her. Now, she felt cold. 

  Whatever, she tried to tell herself. They would figure it out tomorrow. There always seemed to be a lot of things for them to figure out, especially lately. 

  Rayla snorted into her pillow. As if everything wasn’t already enough— Aaravos, Katolis being leveled, losing her parents, and now this. Another threat looming on the horizon, another problem to solve.

  She would always fight for those around her, her loved ones, but she was kind of getting tired of saving the world. Maybe someone else could do it for a change. 

  She thought of potential world saving candidates as she drifted off into sleep, her eyelids finally fluttering shut. 

Chapter Text

Callum was haunted by dreams. Nightmares, to be exact. 

  In his dreams, he saw Katolis burning. He heard the screaming. He smelled the scent of ember and smoke and ash and charred flesh. He felt his lungs burn and fill with smoke, coughing and wheezing violently.

  But when he opened his mouth, no sound came out. When he tried to move, his feet were glued to the ground, motionless. He was helpless. He watched people scream and flee for their lives. He watched children cry for their parents and people collapse and convulse on the ground, burning alive. 

  And the worst part was he couldn’t lift a hand to help them. He was helpless to stop it. 

  And, in the others, he saw bodies. Piles and piles. Royal guards, armor dented and dirtied. Elf and human civilians, bodies twisted at odd angles and broken, like they were ragdolls thrown against the wall. He saw Soren, still in his armor. sprawled out on the ground. He saw Corvus, propped up against the rumble of a wall, slumped over. 

  He turned his head and saw his brother, laying face down in a puddle of his own blood. His silver crown was laying a few feet away, scattered with drops of scarlet blood. Callum tried to will himself to move, but he was frozen in place. 

  His body was not his own. 

  He was then aware of something shifting against him, pushing against his chest. He looked down and his heart stopped. Rayla lay in his arms, half conscious, dried blood crusting her lower lip. She was coughing, choking on her own blood. 

  Her lips were moving. She was trying to tell him something, he realized. He leaned forward, straining to hear her raspy whisper. Her breath was awfully shallow. 

  “Why?” She was saying, crying. “Why, Callum?”

  He furrowed his eyebrows, confused. He looked down. He looked down and all he saw was red. 

  And it wasn’t his own. 

  He realized Rayla was bleeding from a wound in her abdomen, a sizable gash in her side, staining Callum’s shirt and pants. A stab wound, he realized. She had been stabbed. 

  He looked down again and realized he was holding the knife, still stained with her blood. 

  He was holding the knife. 

  Rayla struggled to get the words out, eyelashes fluttering. “Why?” She cried out again. 

  He had stabbed her. 

  “Callum, why would you do this?” 

  He had killed Rayla. 

  The knife dropped to the ground. He looked down at his hands, slick with the scarlet liquid. He was suddenly aware of it everywhere, covering him. Warm and sticky, pulsing out of her still-warm body. 

  He realized just how small she seemed in his arms, bleeding out. 

  “Ah,” a voice said suddenly, echoing across his dreamscape. His voice. The voice that sent shivers up his spine. “There you are, little mage.” 

  He whipped his head around. There was nothing there.  

  The wind whistled through the ruins of the castle. Rayla stilled in his arms. 

  It was only then that he screamed. 

~

She couldn’t get the screams out of her head. 

  It had been two whole days and the sick feeling wouldn’t leave, the permanent sinking in the pit of her stomach. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw the blood, the shadowy figures wrecking chaos across the town. 

  The figure she had unwillingly let in. 

  She sat on the ground, leg and prosthetic curled against her chest. Her breaths were shallow as she stared into the embers of the fire. Her body ached, her ribs prodding. Her head hurt. Her mind raced. She hadn’t slept much the last few days, and hadn’t kept much food down. 

  It didn’t help that there were reminders constantly moving around her. 

  She looked up, strands of her hair in her eyes, and looked at the disfigured shape across the clearing, just standing there, unblinking, staring until the dark and the trees. The right side of his face had been torn away, his clothes dirty and ragged and clinging to his skinny frame. His eyes were pitch black, colorless, with no light at all. Angry veins crisscrossed over all his body, particularly around his eyes and cheeks. 

  Aaravos had left it there with a simple command to kill anything that approached them. Claudia wondered if that included anyone who tried to leave. 

  She swallowed, and the thing tilted its head, fixated on a sound in the distance. She didn’t know what it was, but she knew it was no longer in control, a husk of a person. A brainless slave that blindly followed commands. Dark, unnatural. 

  Necessary, Aaravos had insisted. A part of the plan. 

  She had asked him what it was, watching in horror as it bent over and started a fire, as Aaravos had commanded it to, ordering it around like some dog. 

  A soldier, he had said. The first of our own army. Her chest had twisted then, stomach rolling. He had turned to her then, a vile grin highlighted by the last light of twilight. You and me, Claudia. We’re going to change the world. 

  She frowned to herself. She still didn’t know what he meant. Urgh, she couldn’t help but think to herself. Why doesn’t he tell me his plan? 

  Didn’t he trust her? How many times did she have to prove herself? 

  She was jerked out of her thoughts at the sound of shifting against the loose dirt on the ground. She looked up to see Terry still on the other side of the clearing, sitting in a low crouch, looking significantly uncomfortable. 

  She blinked. “Are you okay?” She asked sincerely, something like pity tainting her voice. 

  He glared up at her, gaze burning. She nearly shrank back. “What do you think?” He snapped. His eyes were watery, red-rimmed. He sniffled, dabbing his eyes with the back of his hand. 

  After the night at Thornwood, he had wept. Claudia had heard his cries all night long. She had yearned to console him, but he wouldn’t let her touch him, let alone comfort him. 

  Maybe it was for the better. She wasn’t sure she could find the words to comfort herself, let alone another person. 

  She tilted her head at him now, trying to be understanding. He was still getting used to everything. It could take time. 

  “I’m doing great,” he said, sarcastic. 

  “Terry.”

  “I just watched someone commit murder.” His eyes widened as if he was remembering something bad, which he probably was. “I heard all the screams.”

  “Terry.”

  “No. Don’t even try to defend him. What he did, it— it's unspeakable. It’s vile,” he spat. His venomous gaze turned on her. “I don’t know how you follow him like some stray puppy.” 

  She unclasped her jaw. “I—“

  “If you had known,” he said slowly, interrupting her. “Would you have stopped him? Would you have turned back?” 

  She paused, not answering. She considered it. An answer came to mind, but she denied it. She swallowed thickly, tongue limp and useless in her mouth. 

  No. 

  Her silence was enough of an answer for Terry. 

  She watched as he stood on shaky limbs and walked to the edge of the clearing, fists balled up at his sides. The look on his face was so visceral, so intense, something she had never seen on him before. A look of rage and sadness and confusion and bitterness rolled all into one. He stalked to the edge of the circle lit by the ring of the fire. 

  He stopped only once, barely looking back. He tilted his head over his shoulder. “Find me when you give me a real answer,” he said, voice hard and bitter. 

  Panic surged into her chest. “Terry!” She said, voice rising. “Wait.”

  He walked on. 

  “Wait!” She pleaded. “Please.”

  And he didn’t look back this time. 

  Her voice broke. The tears were already blurring her vision. Terry was just a dark smudge disappearing into the distance, slipping into the tree line. Her shoulders shook, holding back her quiet sobs. 

  She collapsed, fingers digging into the forest floor, fumbling for solid purchase. The tears ran down her cheeks, mixing with the dirt under palms. The last time she had been in such a position was when she had buried her father. They had buried his body a day after leaving the ruins of her former home, laying him to rest a few hours away, where no one could disturb him. Only three people knew where his grave was laid, marked by a patch of flowers Terry had helped coax open, and she wanted it to stay that way. 

  The thought of someone else uncovering his body when they combed through the rubble made her feel sick. Who knew how they would treat his body. She knew a majority of the kingdom would be glad to see her father dead. 

  Her fingers dug into the earth. She sucked in a breath, still on her knees, gathering her wits. Terry’s voice echoed around her mind. If you had known, would you have stopped him?

  Would she? Did she have the power to? Could she have somehow talked him out of it, found another way? Would she have left him? 

  The obvious answer was yes. 

  And, in truth, she wouldn’t have. She didn’t know what she would have done. 

  Perhaps that part scared her the most. 

~

Keagan’s funeral was held the following morning. 

  She attended it. She felt it was her duty to. He had been doing his job, doing his job to the kingdom and his people, protecting the camp, protecting her. 

  A part of her felt like he had been put in that position because of her. The other part of her knew there couldn’t have been much done to prevent it. 

  Due to the nature of his death, the wounds and infection, the Councilors’ and healers’ most pressing concern was contagion. His body had burned more quickly than normal. Cremation was usually a Sunfire tradition anyway, as a way of returning their body to the sun, but usually after the morning period had passed for the family, allowing them to say their goodbyes. Then the body was readied, anointed with sacred oils, having a sunstone pressed upon their heart or forehead, and then wrapped in golden cloth. 

  The actual cremation took place at sunset, the family and friends saying goodbye to their loved one as they said goodbye to the sun. That night, a candle would be lit, said to help guide the spirit into the afterlife, and it was custom for the loved ones to stay up long into the night, trading their favorite stories and memories of the one who had passed. It was both a sad and bittersweet time. 

  That was followed by a funeral at dawn, where loved ones spoke and gave their testimonies, offered up trinkets and tokens, followed by a final prayer and the Sunburst Salute, raising their arms up to sun as it slowly yet steadily rose above them, and chanting their final farewell to the spirit. 

  It was a tradition Janai remembered from attending memorials as a child. Her mother always told her it represented the community’s wish for the spirit to ascend to the stars and shine brightly as a guiding light for future generations. 

  It was a nice sentiment, and as she looked up at the last rays of light across the morning sky, she sincerely hoped it was true. 

  She looked around at the decent crowd of people gathered in a half-circle, listening to his mother— a shorter woman with gray-streaked hair in braids— recount tales of him as a young, wild boy. She was smiling and laughing and crying all at the same time. Many others had taken turns to speak— friends, family, and comrades alike. 

  Keagan had been a good man. Kind, liked by all that knew him. 

  And now he was dead.

  She bit her lip, frowning at that thought. She stood at the back of the crowd, trying not to draw attention to herself. Still, from her spot, she could realize how many people she recognized. Dozens of guards, a few captains and generals, and even a few Councilors. She saw a few humans in the crowd too. Tension had been high in the beginning, but many had built trust, made lasting friendships. 

  She had relieved many guards of their duties so they could attend the event and pay their respects. It was strange seeing them without their golden armor, no longer glittering under the sun. Now, they were dressed in regular day clothes, heads bowed, face solemn. 

  And even some couldn’t keep it together. A younger guard, a girl Janai had seen when she visited the sparring grounds, pressed a knuckle against her mouth, trying to quiet her sobs, her shoulders shaking. Her companion, a man a whole head taller than her, wrapped an arm around her, turning her around, and allowed her to cry into his chest. 

  Feeling like she was intruding on a private moment, Janai averted her gaze. At that moment, Keagan’s mother had finished her story, sniffling. Her daughter, Keagan’s sister Taliyah, came forward, and the crowd seemed to snap out of its trance. Some of them started to disperse, finding others to talk in hushed tones with, or lingers to offer solace to the grieving family members. Others stayed in place, swaying ever so slightly, staring down at the ground, still not processing everything. 

  Frowning, Janai turned to leave, realizing it was now over. Usually only the close family and friends would stick around after such events. She didn’t want to intrude. It was still early, but she had things to do, as always. 

  As she turned on her heel, a soft voice stopped her in her tracks. “My Queen,” the voice said. 

  She turned back to see a woman with her head bowed. “Don’t,” she scolded gently. “You don’t have to do that. I’m not here as a queen.”

  “We’d like to thank you for coming regardless,” the woman said, tilting her head back up. Janai’s gaze softened. The woman looked exhausted, purple circles under her eyes, eyes red and puffy from crying. “I would like to thank you.” A ghost of a smile played on her lips. She let out a wet chuckle. “If Keagan knew the queen would show up at his funeral, he would never stop bragging.” 

  Janai gave her a small smile. “Of course. Your…” She trailed off.

  “Husband,” she said, her expression falling ever so slightly after saying it. 

  Janai gave a curt nod. “Your husband was doing his duty,” she continued. “He was brave, and he will be honored for it. I just came to pay my respects like everybody else.” 

  The woman nodded almost thankfully, the light still dim in her eyes. Janai realized she recognized her then. Alaina, child of wealthy merchants back behind the city fell. She used to be invited to events at the palace. They played together as children. Janai remembered she had been a candidate for a promotion to captain, but retired early after marrying and wanting to start a family. 

  That felt like a lifetime ago. 

  Alaina shifted under Janai’s intense gaze, and that was when Janai registered the child on her hip. A toddler, really. A little girl with tiny dark curls and wide brown eyes, sucking on her thumb. Janai blinked, feeling distraught. 

  As Janai looked upon the mother and child, her heart twisted in her chest. He had a family, a wife and a young daughter. A daughter that would now grow up without a father. 

  “Her name is Asha,” Alaina said softly. She had caught Janai staring. 

  She blinked again. “Huh?”

  “It means hope,” Alaina said. She met Janai’s gaze steadily, sniffing. “Keagan picked it out.”

  With one last glance at the young girl, Janai bowed her head. “I’m sure she’ll grow up knowing how brave her father was,” she replied. 

  Alaina nodded, blinking away stray tears. “She will.”

  Someone called Alaina’s name, and she looked over her shoulder. Janai cleared her throat, tentatively putting a hand on Alaina’s shoulder. “If you need anything, come to me,” she told the woman. 

  Alaina nodded again, misty-eyed. This time, a tear did escape, running down the carved slope of her cheek. Janai held her gaze for a moment and then turned and left, excusing herself. 

  She was lost in her thoughts when she passed by Aiyana, the captain still dressed in her armor, wiping at her damp eyes with the crook of her arm. As she saw her, something became clear to Janai. 

  Something had to change. 

  Something she had been thinking over all morning, something she had been reluctant about, clicked in her head. She sped up, catching up to the captain. “Captain Aiyana,” she called. 

  She turned immediately, shoulders jumping up. “Yes, My Queen?” She replied instinctively. 

  “Whenever you can,” Janai said slowly, not wanting to rush the woman. “Can you fetch Court Mage Alden? We have something very important to discuss.” 

~

Callum woke up with a start. 

  He jerked upright, gasping for clean, fresh air. He buried his head in his hands, trying to ground himself, waiting for familiar hands to wrap around him and pull him in like they did every other night like this. 

  When they did, only then did he allow himself to breathe. He was here. He was safe. Rayla was here. Rayla was safe. 

  When his breathing had slowed and his mind had stopped racing, Rayla pulled away. She turned to face him, her face was tight with worry. “Bad dream again?” She asked, voice hoarse from sleep. 

  He suddenly felt bad for waking her. He nodded wordlessly. 

  She tilted her head. “What was it this time?”

  He shook his head. He didn’t want to talk about it. He didn’t want to scare her. 

  “Are you sure?” She asked, her finger brushing over his knuckles. “Talking about it might help.”

  He shook his head again. 

  “Okay.” Rayla withdrew. “What?” She squinted. “Was it about a giant spider?”

  He looked at her.

  “I once heard a nightmare about being smothered to death by a bunch of adoraburrs,” she admitted. “Well, maybe it was not a nightmare. It would have been a cute, snuggly death.”

  He managed a small laugh, and Rayla grinned at her, eyes tired. He turned serious then, pulling away from her and bringing his knees to his chest. The nightmare still ran through his brain. 

  “I watched you die,” he confessed. It was the partial truth. 

  He stayed limp, as stiff as a board, as Rayla soothed him, holding him, whispering white lies into his ears like holy promises. 

  He let her hold him. He didn’t tell her it was his hands stained with her blood. 

  He didn’t tell her his hands were the ones holding the knife.  

Chapter Text

He couldn’t stay. Not anymore. 

  A part of him knew he should’ve left a long time ago, the moment he had been required to step over the line between bystander and participant. The moment he’d been required to kill a man, to slot something between his ribs, to stab him, feeling his organs shift, his blood pour out. 

  He still had dreams about the red covering his hands. 

  He had stayed despite it. He loved Claudia, and he wanted to help her. He kept telling himself she was doing it to save her father, because what child wouldn’t fight to save their parent? And despite himself, he had grown to like Viren too. The man had been guarded, distant, but had slowly opened up to Terry. He had seemed serious about wanting to change, to do better. 

  He had wanted to do better for Claudia, be a better example for his children, and now he was dead. 

  Terry had seen past it all— the dark magic and the spells and the schemes. He excused it. It was to save Viren after all. To free Aaravos. For the greater good. 

  Even when he first met Claudia, the pretty girl with dirt-streaked cheeks wandering the woods, the idea of dark magic had made him feel nauseous. The idea of taking the lives of small creatures for ingredients, to use for your benefit. Dark magic was, well, dark, unnatural. It was the opposite of his own abilities.

  Elves were born connected to a power source. Humans had to squeeze the power out of other living things that had been born with it. 

  He had gotten used to it. He told himself it was alright, even the closer she got to the edge, desperate for more power. She was still Claudia, and he still loved her. 

  He still loved her now, and a part of him always would. But she had gone off the deep end. He couldn’t be blind to that fact any longer. 

  The line had been drawn the second he heard the scream, crouching in the bushes outside Thornwood. He had sat there, helpless to stop it, as Avaravos slaughtered innocents, creating an army of darkness, his brainless slaves. 

  But Terry wouldn’t sit there any longer. He wouldn’t sit there as his own people were taken, turned into puppets at the will of a dark mage. He wouldn’t let his silence be compliance. 

  He knew Aaravos only tolerated his presence for Claudia’s sake. He didn’t like the Startouch elf, and he knew he didn’t like Terry either. Claudia was blind to it all— the fact Aaravos was using her for her power. They didn’t even know the full extent of his plans, but Terry knew they weren’t good. 

  This may have been Aaravos’s doing, but Claudia followed him blindly and unwaveringly.

  And he didn’t know how to stop it. He could only do what he knew was best— leave before it got worse. Leave before Aaravos caught onto him. Leave before Aaravos took care of him or turned him into a mindless monster. 

  He looked down at Claudia now, her soft features highlighted in the light of the dying fire. She looked so peaceful in her sleep, despite the turmoil around them. He moved a piece of her hair out of her face, the hair he had helped cut only a few weeks ago. 

  It seemed like a lifetime ago. 

  He carefully brushed the strand away. She shifted in her sleep, oblivious to the pain he was feeling inside him. He held his breath. She stilled. He leaned forward and pressed a featherlight kiss to her forehead, the closest he had gotten to her in days, and now he was saying goodbye. 

  Her eyelashes fluttered, and she let out a content sigh, breathing deeply. He allowed himself one last small smile, and then stood up. He turned on his heel and hiked his bag up on his shoulder. He forced his feet to move, willing himself to slip into the tee line, to disappear into the darkness. 

  He had to leave. 

  And he didn’t look back this time. 

~

Soren sat in his tent, legs dangling off the end of the cot. He hadn’t slept at all. He had tossed and turned, mind racing. His thoughts kept going back to the letter, to Rayla’s angry words, and Aanya’s wise ones. 

  War. The Earthblood elves had threatened war. And they were supposed to sit back and let them accuse them of such crimes? What human was capable of such things anyway? 

  Ezran had decided to write back and offer his support in these times of trouble, and Soren trusted him. Of course he did. The boy was young, but he was wise, mature beyond his years. He had been through a lot for a kid. He was a king, his king, and Soren would follow him to the ends of the earth— in fact he felt like he often did. 

  He trusted Ezran. The kid was like a little brother to him. He just hoped his plan would work. It would be great if every battle could be won with kind words and handshakes, but sometimes diplomacy only went so far. The elves were angry, and they pointed an accusing finger at the humans. Now it was up to them on how they reacted. 

  He hoped they made the right choice. 

  He let out a groan, laying back on his cot. That wasn’t the only thing on his mind. He had tried to keep himself distracted, throwing himself into patrolling and planning, but he could still see his fa— Viren’s face, hear his voice. On the nights he couldn’t sleep, it ran through his mind, drove him mad.  

  Viren had sacrificed his own heart to protect everyone, to protect him. A part of Soren had told himself he couldn’t change. When he heard of Viren being placed in the dungeon, he had gone himself to not fall for his tricks, not fall for his lies and sweet words. 

  And now the other part of him desperately wanted to believe that Viren had been changing, had been trying to at least. 

  Soren rolled over, rubbing his dry eyes. Did it matter much anyway? Viren was gone. He knew that much. They hadn’t uncovered a body yet, but still. 

  It was done. It was over. 

  He was still rubbing his eyes when the flaps to his small tent opened and a light morning breeze blew in. He looked up, frowning at the sudden light. Corvus stood in the doorway, leaning on the tent post nonchalantly. He looked surprisingly calm considering all that had gone down the previous night. 

  He saw Soren’s expression, blinked, and frowned. He immediately came to sit next to Soren on the bed, looking concerned. “What’s wrong?”

  He tried to hide his expression, but the tracker knew him too well. They had become much closer over the last two years after all. 

  Soren sighed, staring limply up at the ceiling. “Just thinking.”

  Corvus blinked again. “About?”

  “Everything,” Soren replied. “The threat.” He paused, swallowing thickly. “My… Viren.”

  He saw Corvus’s face contort in pity, and rolled over. He didn’t want to see his expression. Not right now. “Oh, Soren,” he said softly, trying to reach out, but then dropped his hand, considering against it. “Is there anything I can do?” 

  Soren shook his head. “No,” he said. “It just sucks, you know?”

  Corvus nodded. “I know.”

  “A part of me wishes I had heard him out,” Soren continued, sitting up. “The one time I went down to visit him. He told me all these nice things.”

  “Like what?” Corvus asked, instinctively shifting closer to his friend. 

  A lump formed in Soren’s throat. “That he was proud of me,” he replied. He paused. “That he loved me.”

  Corvus looked down at his feet. “Oh.”

 “I wouldn’t listen,” Soren concluded. “I thought it was lying, making things up. I thought he was trying to trick me again, and I wouldn’t fall for it. I yelled at him. I left him down there.” He slumped over, head in his hands. “Now I kinda wish I had stayed, heard him out. I.. I didn’t know it was going to be the last time I was going to talk to him, you know?” 

  Corvus moved, placing a hand on Soren’s shoulder and squeezing. The touch was meant to comfort him, but he sniffed. “Now he’s gone,” he finished. “And he left me here, more confused than ever.” 

  Soren fell limp, leaning against Corvus. They stayed that way for a while, sitting side by side in silence, the late summer breeze caressing their faces. 

~

The ride back to Lux Aurea was much faster. 

  They cut the travel time in half by riding long into the night, stopping in the mornings to rest and cool off, watering their horses and letting them graze before hitting the road again. 

  They reached the camp four days after departing from Katolis. The sun was high in the sky as her and Gren reached the rolling plains, the tents rising up in the distance, stark white against the blue of the sky. Seeing it made her heart soar, knowing she was so close. 

  She kicked her horse into a gallop, kicking up dust and rocks as she raced across the large field, getting closer with every stride. By the time they got to the entrance of the camp, she had pulled back into a trot, bouncing in the saddle. She immediately noticed two guards perking up from their posts, where they were leaning against the stone wall, looking half asleep. 

  She looked around as she came to a complete stop, the horse halting and snorting, exhausted. She blinked. There seemed to be more guards stationed outside than regular. That was strange. Had they been expecting her? 

 Gren slid to a halt behind her, finally catching up, and they slid off their saddles. They exchanged questioning glances, leading their mounts by the reins and coming to greet the two guards who came awkwardly scurrying out to greet them— a man and woman Amaya recognized. She had recognized many guards from around camp, or from training sessions, as both armies had combined to spar together. 

  “Queen Amaya,” the male guard exclaimed, and Amaya blinked again. She was not used to that title. So much had happened that it hadn’t really sunk in that she was, technically, a queen. 

  “You’re back!” The guard went on, eyes wide. He nudged his companion and she turned to leave. “I’ll send a message to Queen Janai right away—“

  He trailed off as Amaya signed something fastly and sharply, cutting him off. Looking unsure, he looked to Gren hopefully. 

  “Where is my wife?” Gren translated, though probably saying it more gently than Amaya would have. 

  “Ah,” the guard hummed. Tyrell, if Amaya remembered correctly. He clasped his hands together almost nervously. “Queen Janai is in a meeting, but I’ll show you to her now.”

  Amaya nodded her thanks, satisfied at the guard’s quick response. Her and Gren handed their horses to the other guards who scrambled over and turned to follow Tyrell through the entrance and into the bustle of activity that was midday in the encampment. 

  As they walked through the camp, she looked around, appreciating the familiar sights. After the chaos of the last few weeks, it was just nice to be back. She inhaled, taking a deep breath, and smelled the scent of the camp— the dry, sun-baked earth and sand, mingling with the sweat from people and animals, and the smoke from the cooking fires, adding hints of spices and herbs. The aromas around her were familiar, earthly and dusty. 

  It smelled like home. 

  Tyrell led them through the smaller tents, where the civilians resided, and as the tents started getting bigger and more grand, she knew where he was taking them. She had been this way a thousand times over. Tyrell paused in front of the queen’s quarters, looking back, as if making sure they hadn't disappeared. 

  She fought the urge to push past him as he pressed a knock against the tent post. It was simple etiquette for a guard to knock before entering, but Amaya was impatient. She just wanted to see her wife. It had been over two weeks by now. 

  Finally, someone must have responded and told them to come in, as Tyrell stepped aside and sent them a waiting look, holding open the flaps. He nodded, urging them inside. Amaya didn’t have to be told twice. She walked right in, Gren hurrying after her. 

  Once inside, she had to blink, adjusting to her surroundings. It was much more dim here than it was outside. The sun was bright today. She blinked, then looked around. It was still the same as when she had left.

  She turned, looking for what she came for, and then paused. Her wife sat at the table on the other side of the tent, two others with her. A captain Amaya recognized, as well as the Court Mage. She couldn’t recall their names at the moment, but that didn’t matter. She only had eyes for her wife. 

  All three Sunfire elves were looking up at her, surprised at her return and sudden entrance. Janai, eyes wide, stood immediately. “Amaya,” she said. 

  She could barely get one word out before Amaya was crossing the room and wrapping her arms around her, pulling her into a fierce, tight hug. She felt Janai let out a long breath as soon as they touched, one she had seemed to have been holding for a while. “You’re here,” she breathed as they pulled away. 

  Amaya let go of Janai so she could sign. I came as soon as I got your letter. 

  Janai let out a small chuckle. Of course you did, she signed back, an extra veil of privacy from the others in the room who wouldn’t understand. 

  She leaned forward, pressing a kiss to her lips quickly, aware they still had company. Amaya cupped her hand to her wife’s cheeks, melting into her warm touch. Janai eventually withdrew, expression pinched. 

  She frowned. She moved her hands away. Are you okay? 

  As well as can be. 

  Amaya wasn’t satisfied with that answer, but they could talk later. She settled with finding Janai’s hand, slotting their fingers together, four and five, and squeezing. She felt Gren nudge her, and turned to see the captain rising from her seat and bowing. 

  “Welcome back,” she said, directed towards Amaya. 

  Amaya nodded in reply. The captain stood straight up, and the mage, still sitting, fidgeting with his sleeve. Amaya raised an eyebrow. She wondered why Janai was having a meeting with the Council’s sun mage. 

  She knew he was looking for an answer to solve the city’s corruption, but she doubted he had suddenly found something now. They had been looking for years, called on mages from all over Xadia for help, and consulted books that seemed as old as the world itself. Nothing had seemed to help. 

  What was happening now? 

  Her gaze went past the nervous mage to the tabletop, scattered with pieces of parchment. She noticed then that they were architectural records, maps of the old city. She furrowed her eyebrows, even more confused. Why did they need these? Amaya knew Janai had moved everything that was salvaged from the city, important records and reports and such, not bearing to look at them any longer than necessary. It had been too painful. But now they were out again, laying in the open. 

  Just what was this meeting about? 

  She turned to her wife, her eyes asking the silent question. Janai opened her mouth, then closed it. She looked like she was struggling on how to word this, how to explain it. 

  We need to figure out what is happening, Janai started slowly. So we can stop it. So it doesn’t happen again. 

  Amaya raised an eyebrow. So?

  We need to investigate the root of the problem, Janai continued, and Amaya caught on to what she was implying.

  You want to go into the city, she signed, and it wasn’t a question. 

  Janai nodded, swallowing. Her mind raced at the thought of it. She had narrowly escaped her last trip into the cursed city, and she’d be damned if she let her wife wander back in. About to try to talk her out of the idea, she raised her hands, then paused. 

  She turned her head when there was motion in the corner of her vision. The captain was standing again, a deadpan expression on her face. “Do we have any amber ale?”

  “Uh,” Janai balked, surprised by the question. “Yes, in the kitchens most likely.”

  Amaya had grown used to Sunfire spirits, sometimes drinking to celebrate special occasions. She had drank to celebrate birthdays, and the night after Janai proposed to celebrate their engagement. She knew the amber ale was a stronger, amber-colored ale with a warming aftertaste, brewed with sun-dried grains and a hint of cinnamon and ginger. It was one of the few kinds she could tolerate. 

  “Great,” the captain replied. 

  “Captain Aiyana,” Janai said carefully. “Why do you need a drink? It’s noon.”

  “We’re going to need it to explain all this,” Aiyana deadpanned, gesturing to the mess of papers across the tabletop. “I’ll go down to the kitchens. Be back in a moment.”

  “Can you get me sunfruit nectar instead?” The Court Mage asked timidly. He ducked his head when everyone turned to look at him. “What? Alcohol turns my stomach.” 

  Aiyana scoffed, then left the tent. The rest of them stood there in awkward silence, letting it all sink in. The idea of returning to the city seemed dangerous enough, and the guy, the all-knowing sun mage, that was supposed to cure the city of its darkness, couldn’t even handle one drink.  

  Amaya nudged her wife, their armor clanking together. This is the guy who is supposed to lead us into the city? She asked, gesturing to the mage cowering by the table. He looked up at them shyly, unaware of what they were saying. 

  Janai only bore a heavy sigh, shoulders slumping. She held a hand up to rub at her temples, and Amaya just knew this was going to be a long meeting. 

Chapter Text

    It was late the next morning, and Rayla and Callum stood in Ezran’s tent before the next dreaded Council meeting. Rayla had a piece of parchment clutched between her fingers, and she knew that Callum was reading over her shoulders. 

  This letter may be the very thing that prevented war. That reminder made her heart flutter. 

To the Honorable Council of the Earthblood Elves,

  We received your letter with the gravity such an accusation demands. First, let us extend our deepest sympathies for the tragedy that has befallen your people. We grieve with you for the innocent lives lost and the destruction wrought upon your land. No words can adequately express our sorrow for this grievous act of violence.

  However, we must be clear on this matter. While you claim that a human was sighted near the town before the attack, mere presence does not equate to guilt. We have no knowledge of any sanctioned human involvement in this massacre, and we outright reject any insinuation that this was the doing of our kingdom or its people. If a human was seen, it could just as easily have been an outsider, a rogue, or someone acting beyond the reach of our laws. To accuse us, without proof, of orchestrating or enabling such devastation is reckless.

  We understand that grief can cloud judgment, and in the face of such pain, it is natural to seek someone to blame. But we urge you to pause and consider the consequences of your accusations. You demand answers, and so do we. We have no interest in war, but if pushed to defend ourselves against unfounded allegations, we will protect our people with all the strength we possess.

  Instead of further division, we propose an investigation conducted jointly by both of our peoples. Let us uncover the truth together. If indeed there was a human involved, let us determine whether they acted alone, or were under someone else’s influence. We must not allow this tragedy to become a spark for needless conflict between our nations. Let us honor the fallen by seeking justice— not by rushing into war.

  We await your response, and we hope it will be one that seeks resolution, not escalation.

  With respect and vigilance,
  King Ezran
 The Kingdom of Katolis 

  When she was finished reading, she looked up. Ezran, who sat at the table, playing with the nearly empty inkwell, raised his eyebrows. Due to the purple bags under his eyes, she guessed he had stayed up all night to write it. “So?” He asked. “What do you think?”

  “It’s good,” Callum assured his brother. “You’re apologetic, but you don’t let them place the blame on us, and you offered your help in an investigation. There’s not much else you can do.”

  Rayla nodded an agreement. “I couldn’t say it better myself.” She paused, frowning. “Let’s see what the rest of the Council has to say,” she added. 

  Ezran nodded, taking the letter from her and folding it in half. “I just wanted your opinion first,” he said softly. “Because it means a lot to me.”

  Callum and Rayla looked at each other, smiled, and then leaned in on each side to pull Ezran into a hug. He blinked, surprised at first, then set the letter on the desk and hugged them back. 

  “You mean a lot to us too,” Rayla hummed. 

  “And we’ll get through this,” Callum said. “Together.” 

  She felt Ezran let out a long breath, squeezing them back. “I know. Thank you.”

  They pulled away. Rayla flashed him a reassuring smile. Callum gave his little brother one last pat on the shoulder before pulling away himself. Ezran looked up at them, and it struck Rayla just how tall he was getting. 

  His expression let out a small sigh anyway and tucked the letter carefully under his arm, ready to present it to the others at the meeting. 

  She couldn’t blame him for being so on edge. He had so much on his small shoulders, and the threat of war had spooked them all. All they could do now was respond kindly, diplomatically, and hope the Earthblood accepted their offer, or at least that their anger would blow over. They would have to see that flipping out and accusing their neighbors of breaching the border and violating the peace treaty, of killing innocent civilians, wasn’t the way to go. 

  Their judgment was clouded, Rayla kept telling herself. They were blinded by their grief. By their rage. 

  The diplomatic way was the only way to go. Either way, it was a lose-lose situation. She would have no idea what to do with herself if war became their reality again. Xadia was her country, where she was from, where she grew up, and she loved it— its beauty, its magic. But she had also come to love Katolis. It had become like a second home to her over the years, especially after being Ghosted from the Slivergrove. The people she loved lived here. 

  If war was waged, she wouldn’t know to pick between her peoples. 

  She let out a deep breath, exhaling. She just had to hope it didn’t come to that. 

  As she looked around at the people around her— the young king and the mage prince— she took another deep breath. She felt a tug on her heart, like it was being pulled by an invisible string. Hope, she realized. 

  She was feeling hope. 

  “Come on,” she told the boys. She took Callum’s hand, tugging him towards the tent exit. A surprised look crossed his face as he was pulled away, and Ezran laughed, following them out. “Let’s go. Don’t want to be late.”

  “I don’t need another one of Opeli’s lectures about ‘kings always being on time’” Ezran said as they walked outside, the morning sunlight beaming over them.

  “We might go to war, but, sure, punctuality is the most important thing,” Callum grumbled under his breath, holding up a hand to block the sun from his eyes. It was too early for this, but Rayla had learned to deal with it. 

  She laughed again, and for the first time in a while, she felt that small glimmer of hope flicker in her heart once again. 

~

Runaan sat on the familiar couch in the living space of the house, pale white moonlight streaming in through the windows. It highlighted Ethari’s light hair as he moved around the kitchen, preparing warm cups of tea and biscuits. Runaan didn’t know what it was lately with everyone insisting on him having tea, but Ethari had forced him to sit as soon as they got inside, saying he was going to make him something to eat, and Runaan didn’t have enough energy to say no to his husband. 

  An hour ago, he didn’t even have a husband to say no to. So he supposed he was making progress. 

  He watched Ethari as he moved around the kitchen, pouring two cups of warm tea and getting a basket of biscuits from the countertop. He was still in awe, being back here, in his old home, seeing his husband walking around, working in the kitchen, like it was any other day. 

  When Ethari finished, he came over, holding a tray with a small plate and two teacups. He bent over to place it carefully on the low table in front of him. 

  “Careful,” he warned gently. “It’s hot.”

  Runaan managed a small chuckle. “I still know how tea works, Ethari.” 

  He leaned over and picked up the cup closest to him, blowing on it to help it cool off. He recognized the sharp scent immediately, a refreshing brew of mint and silverleaf. Lunar Blossom Tea. They used to give the same kind to Rayla when she was little and had nightmares. 

  He smiled to himself, and Ethari’s lips began to perk up too. “What are you thinking about?”

  “Just memories,” he replied, sipping on his tea. 

  It burned his tongue, but it felt good going down his throat. He downed the small cup, setting it down the tabletop, and then turned his sights on the small stack of biscuits. He had been living off of meager traveling rations for the last week, and the sight alone was alluring. He reached out and shoved one into his mouth, barely swallowing before gulping it down. 

  Ethari didn’t even blink as his husband finished off the entire plate in a few short minutes. “I’ll make you a real meal in the morning,” he promised. “Whatever you want.”

  “My favorite?” Runaan asked. 

  “Your favorite,” Ethari confirmed, beginning to smile. He turned to look at the old clock on the wall, and frowned. “I’ll clean up.” He gestured to the discarded cups and the plate with crumbs scattered across it. “In the meantime, why don’t you take a bath, and then we can get some sleep?”

  “Are you saying I smell?” Runaan gently poked his husband, 

  “Yes,” Ethari replied, leaning over to press a kiss to his lips and lingering for a long moment, hands on his cheeks. He seemed to be in awe too, eyes dancing with wonder and happiness. He couldn’t believe Runaan was back. Runaan could hardly believe it himself. After nearly three years of separation, it was over. 

  He then pulled away, grinning. “Go.”

  Runaan rolled his eyes, but obeyed. He made the way to the bathroom, the same as it was before, and shed his burrowed and now dirtied clothes. He drew a bath, soaked, and took the time to wash the dirt off his body. After a few minutes, he drained the water and stepped out, retrieving a towel from the shelf above. 

  He dried his body, combed through his hair and pulled it back, and then changed into a fresh set of clothes. It was the most refreshed he had felt in a while. By the time he was done, he heard Ethari still shuffling around the kitchen, humming softly to himself. 

  Smiling slightly, he trailed into the room. Ethari was at the basin, taking his time washing the dishes, his back to Runaan. Runaan had always walked quietly, but Ethari had gotten good at picking up his silent footsteps. 

  He tilted his head back. “How was it?”

  “My bath?” Runaan deadpanned. “The highlight of my life.”

  “Hey,” Ethari jabbed playfully. “What about me?”

  “You’re a close second,” Runaan informed him. 

  Ethari snorted, going back to scrubbing at the plate. There was silence for a moment, only broken by the sloshing of the water, when Ethari cleared his throat, speaking out loud again. 

  “Maybe tomorrow,” Ethari started slowly, as if afraid of triggering Runaan. “You can tell me the full story, everything that has happened.” 

  “Long story short, I was trapped by a dark mage,” Runaan said. “I was captured after the assassination of the former king of Katolis. The rest of the group was killed, but they kept me alive, tried to get me to talk.” He paused, his jaw set. “But I wouldn’t.”

  Ethari ceased his washing of the teacup, looking shocked. “What?”

  “It’s fine now. The mage is dead. Supposedly,” he assured his husband, not wanting to worry him with the details. All that mattered was that he was home now. “Rayla and her human boyfriend rescued me.” 

  “Human boyfriend?” Ethari echoed, eyebrows nearly to his hairline. ”And supposedly dead? What does that even mean?”

  Runaan knew his husband had never had much of a prejudice against humans, but he was still taken aback at the fact their daughter was dating one. And he quite unnerved by the any news of Runaan’s former captor. 

  “Ah, yes,” Runaan said rather bitterly. “Callum— erm, Prince Callum. I met him briefly. He was.. jumpy.” 

  “Prince?” Ethari repeated, eyes widening, bulging almost comically. 

  “Yes,” Runaan said carefully. “The son of the king I killed, and the older brother of the prince we were.. supposed to kill.”

  “Huh,” Ethari said, still processing it. 

  “Oh, and get this,” Runaan went on. “He’s a mage. A human primal mage. Have you heard of such a thing?”

  Ethari squeaked as the teacup in his hands splintered in two, cracking down the middle. Runaan blinked. Maybe this was all too much to process. 

  “Let’s talk in the morning?” He suggested. 

  “Yes,” Ethari said, letting the broken pieces fall to the bottom of the sink and turning to wipe his hand on the dishrag. “Let’s do that.”