The dim warmth of the inn/tavern flickered around Zearik as he sat at a corner table, his arm resting gently on Willow's shoulder. She stared blankly into the half-empty mug before her, but Zearik could feel the heaviness of the grief she held back, a fire still burning beneath her cool exterior. Outside, rain softly tapped against the windows, as if the world itself grieved alongside them.
The inn, though filled with the low murmur of the Ravenswood manor's displaced staff, felt heavy with absence. Zearik silently thanked the All-Mother that none of the children had been in the manor during the brust. Cedric's policy of mandatory paid weekends in town had saved the little ones.
But even the knowledge of their safety wasn't enough to stop Zearik's gaze from drifting to the two faint, translucent figures sitting across from him- Cedric and Rellia's souls, their expressions soft but distant. Only Zearik could see them clearly. Willow, for all her sharpness in battle, saw only the butterflies, their iridescent wings reflecting light that wasn't really there.
Carvis sitting between them, had his head tilted in confusion. His bright eyes narrowed, and he poked the air where Cedric's knee should be frowning when his hand passed through the space.
"Papa…" Corvis's voice trembled, "why are Grandma and Grandpa see-through? And why can't I sir on their laps?"
Zearik swallowed hard, struggling to hold his composure for Willow's sake, but it was Cedric's whisper that broke the moment. "It's okay, Corvis," Cedric soothed gently, his voice a soft breeze that only the little dragon could hear. "Grandma and Grandpa are just fine."
Zearik's gaze drifted, passing over more than just the souls of Cedric and Rellia. It was hard to bearth through the weight in his chest, seeing the familiar faces of others who had perished in the brust. Across the room sat the maid, Maggie, her soul quiet and still, watching over her grieving family. Her wife, Tawnie- head mage and advisors to the Ravenswood family- sat with their two young children, Chris and Lydia.
Tawnie's hands trembled as she brushed a tear from Chris's check. Chris, half-elf and gentle-natured, clung to his sister, Lydia, whose half-ork strength belied the vulnerability in her wide eyes. They sat in silence, their tiny hands interwoven, as if holding each other was the only thing keeping them from falling apart.
Zearik's heart twisted. He knew their story well, the love and hope Maggie and Tawnie had shared when starting their family. It had always been a bit of a joke in the household, how they'd both decided to endure the unpleasant necessity of finding men just long enough to bring their children into the world. Chris was Maggie's son by birth, and Lydia was Tawnie's daughter, but that never matter. Together, they had created a family built on love.
And now Maggie sat, her soul hovering between her wife and children, unable to comfort them.
As the air hung heavy with grief, the doors to the tavern's kitchen swung open, allowing in the scent of freshly baked bread and rich stew. Dratha, the half-ork and half-elf tavern owner, entered with a broad smile balancing trays of food with practiced ease. His tusks gleamed faintly in the low light as he handed out bowls of hearty stew and crusty bread to the weary group. Beside him, his partner, Hyrusa, followed, her hooves clicking softly against the tavern floor. "Her otherworldly presence, with shimmering white fur and the graceful build of a unicorn centaur, gave the space a touch of magic.
"Food always helps the heart," Hyrusa said in a melodic voice, passing out mugs of hot chocolate to the children. Her hands, though deft and gentle, carried the unique weight of someone who had seen both hardship and beauty in equal measure.
The children's faces lit up as they wrapped their fingers around the mugs, the warmth offering a momentary distraction from the day's grief. Chris and Lydia each took a mug, their eyes wide with wonder as Hyrusa tousled their hair. Corvis, however, hesitated before accepting his. His wide eyes scanned the room again, as if expecting to see something more than comfort food.
The tavern itself seemed to breathe with its inhabitants. Thanks to Dratha and Hyrusa's mastery of pocket dimension magic, the space expanded well beyond its external walls, offering room for the entire displaced household. Zearik had alway marveled at their tavern- humble in appearance from the outside, but a small world onto itself within. It was almost like stepping into a warm embrace whenever you entered.
Dratha caught Zearik's eye, giving him a small nod of acknowledgement, as if to say, "We'll take care of them for now. You rest."
Vincent stumbled into the tavern, soaked from the heavy rain, his usual calm demeanor shattered by exhaustion and urgency. "We need to open the centaur doors," he said, his voice rough, not bothering to explain further.
Zearik, already on his feet, moved toward the back of the tavern, his instincts pushing him to help. Willow, tired and on edge, followed him, her irritation surfacing. "What in the world do you need the centaur doors for?" she demanded, her tone sharper than she intended.
Vincent barely glanced at her, his expression drained. "It's… complicated, Willow. Just trust me."
As Zearik opened the centaur doors, Willow and Vincent began to bicker, their typical sibling dynamic surfacing despite the situation. Zearik paid them little attention, focusing on the task at hand.
When the doors opened fully, they were greeted by Miruna, face solemn. Behind her was Papyrus, and a monstrous figure loomed in the rain, carrying Marcelia, fast asleep, on its back, soaked but safe.
Zearik swallowed hard, his voice low with disbelief. "What… is that?"
Willow's eyes widened as she struggled to find her voice. "Why is Marcelia with-" she gestured toward Rayner, unsure what to call the fae.
Corvis, watching from a distance, squinted at the figure. His voice, usually so full of youthful enthusiasm, grew quiet with concern. "Why is an Archfae here?" he asked softly, his sharp instincts picking up on something far more dangerous than anyone else had yet realized.
Rayner's voice, hoarse and weary, broke through the tension. "Vincent, please take Marcelia off my back. I'm near my pass-out point."
As Vincent moved to assist, Rayner's tired gaze shifted toward Zearik. "I haven't seen a human with your skin tone around here. Are you from the Great Savannah?"
Zearik, momentarily caught off guard, wasn't ready for a question that reminded him how different he looked from the people he would one day rule. His deep brown skin is a stark contrast to his wife Willow's pale, porcelain complexion. "No, but my mother is," he responded, pushing aside the racing thoughts that threatened to distract him.
With Vincent's help, Zearik carefully laid Marcelia on the couch near the fireplace. The heat of the flames gently flickered across her unconscious form, providing a sense of warmth and safety.
Suddenly, Rayner collapsed, utterly spent, his strength finally giving out. As his body hit the floor, his form shimmered, transforming back into his true self. To everyone's surprise (and possible embarrassment), Rayner lay completely unconscious and… completely naked.
The timing couldn't have been worse (or perhaps better) as Marcelia began to stir, slowly waking up to the sight of her Fiance, buck naked, sprawled on the floor.
Marcelia blinked groggily as she came to. Her thoughts betrayed her for a split second as a somewhat perverted thought crossed her mind, Well, he's definitely well-endowed. She was sure she wasn't the only one thinking it. "Thank the gods I grabbed some of Julius's clothes from his room," Miruna's melodic voice broke through Marcelia's daze, surprising her but filling her with relief to hear her future sister-in-law's voice.
"Zearik! Stop staring at it," Willow's voice snapped, sharp as a whip.
"You're staring too! So don't get mad at me for it!" Zearik shot back defensively, unable to hide his embarrassment.
The tension in the room built until Hyrusa, ver the straightforward one, casually interjected, "By the gods, whoever he is, that's one beautifully endowed fae.
Miruna sighed and facepalmed like a disappointed mother, "Marcelia, sweetheart, stop staring at your naked fiance and help me get some clothes on him."
"Fiance? What kind of bullshit is this?" Willow, for the first time in years, lost control of her filter. "When did you get engaged again? Did you not learn from the last piece of shit fiance?" Her eye visibly twitched in frustration.
Marcelia shot her sister an exasperated look as she knelt to help Miruna and Vincent dress Rayner. "Willow, I am not in the mood to discuss my ex. This thing with Rayner is different- it was an accidental proposal because of fae customs… We're taking things slow."
Zearik while helping, caught sight of Cedric and Rellia's souls inspecting this so-called new fiance. He couldn't help but smile at how protective they were, even in death. It made him grateful, once again, to have them as in-laws.
"Well, Cedric, my love, he is definitely better looking than the last one," Rellia's soul mused to Cedric.
"Grandma, good looking doesn't mean he's a good person," Corvis chimed in glancing at the souls with concern.
"I agree with Corvis!" Cedric grumbled, still in full protective father mode, even a spirt.
Zearik could feel the tension in the room rising as Willow's voice cracked like a whip, her frustration and protective instincts bubbling over. He cast a quick, uneasy glance at Cedric and Rellia's spirts, wishing his family could sense their presence the way he and Corvis could. The quiet wisdom, the souls nearby seemed to stand in stark contrast to the chaos in front of him.
'Willow, love, let's not yell at poor Marcelia, " Miruna interjected gently, her voice calm and steady, a reminder of reason amid the storm.
"And besides, I like him so far, sis," Vincent chimed in with usual unruffled tone, attempting to lighten the mood.
Willow, however, was not to be pacified so easily. "Do you think I give a damn what you think about this so-called fiance?" er eyes burned with a protective fury that only intensified as she continued, "The last one nearly destroyed Marcelia's life!"
Zearik placed a steadying hand on her shoulder, but he couldn't deny his own concern. "And let's not forget, Willow, he's an Archfae," he added gravely. "They're not like the fae we're used to dealing with. Depending on where he's from in the Fae Wilds… Archfae can be as unpredictable as they are powerful."
Marcelia had just finished moving Rayner onto the couch with Vincent's help, carefully setting his head on her lap, hoping not to disturb his slumber. AS Willow and Miruna's argument continued, Marcelia focused on Rayner, gently brushing her fingers through his long, soft hair to keep herself grounded amidst the tension.
Miruna's irritation was beginning to show, her voice laced with a sharpness that cut through Willow's objections. The high-priestesses of the Sisterhood of the All-Mother did not take kindly to being ignored, especially when the All-Mother herself was speaking through them.
Then, Miruna's words dropped like a thunderclap. "Willow, he is not merely some fae- he is a prince."
A stunned silence fell over the room as the weight of her words settled in. Marcelia's hand froze for a moment as she processed the revelation, her mind spinning, A fae prince? The idea was almost surreal, adding depth and gravity to the man she so unexpectedly become engaged to.
At that moment, she felt a dampness on her lap and looked down. Rayner's eyes were open, brimming with tears that silently spilled down his cheeks. Hearing his identity laid bare, perhaps for the first time in decades, seemed to have stirred something deeply painful within him. Without saying a word, Marcelia resumed her gentle touch, brushing her fingers through his hair, comforting him in silence. She didn't need to ask him why he was crying, she simply wanted him to know that he wasn't alone. As the quiet stretched between them, her fingers wove through his hair in a steady, soothing rhythm, silently offering him a safe place to let his emotions flow.
Zearik brow furrowed as he processed the revelation, his voice tinge with confusion. "Wait are you saying he's a child of Queen Titania and King Oberon? But… the only prince that comes to mind is the one that die over fifty years ago."
Miruna gave a gentle but firm correction, her gaze steady, "Thought to be dead. They couldn't find his body after he ran into one of the devastation zones of the Fae Wilds."
Marcelia felt Rayner tense against her, his breathing quickening as a wave of anxiety visibly washed over him. Without a second thought, she snapped, "Shut up!" Her voice cut through the room like a knife. "Stop talking about him like he isn't right here."
"It's alright," she murmured softly, her hand moving gently through his hair. She leaned down, her voice gentle and filled with unwavering support. "I won't treat you any differently, I promise. You can tell me everything in your own time, when you're ready.
Rayner buried his face in her lap, his body shaking as the anxiety took hold of him. Marcelia continued to stroke his hair, her voice a soothing balm against the storm of his emotions, creating a safe space amidst the chaos.
"Fine, let's change the subject to what's happening with Julius," Miruna said flatly, shifting the focus with an intensity that demanded attention.
Zearik's gaze shifted to the souls of Cedric and Rellia, who seemed to stand a bit straighter, a look of worry clouding their translucent faces. Their expressions mirrored the concern growing in the concern growing in his own heart as Miruna continued.
"The All-Mother confirmed what Papyrus told me," Miruna explained. "Julius is safe, and he will remain so. It's the Magistrate amd all those who hurt him that need to worry now- along with anyone who crosses the Ceaith-ysyr." She paused, letting the words settle before adding, "From what I understand, this Ceaith-ysyr was meant to be an Archfae of its kind. Unlike the others of its race, it doesn't need to concume magic constantly, instead it can store it. And it now has access to all the forbidden magic stored in Julius's mind."
The weight of her words landed like a blow, leaving the room in stunned silence- everyone except Marcelia whose focus was still on comforting Rayne.
After a beat, Willow broke the silence, her tone sharp and filled with a pierce satisfaction. "About fucking time the Magistrate got what it deserved! But what exactly is a Ceaith-ysyr."
Miruna looked at each of them, her expression grave. "A Ceaith-ysyr is a unique type of fae. Long ago, they were known for consuming magic much like sustenance. But this one- this Archfae- has a unique ability to store and wield it." She glanced toward Marcelia, who gave her a small nod, silently asking her to continue without further distressing Rayner.
Rayner's voice, shaky yet filled with a simmering anger, cut through the room. "The Magistrate wiped them out," he said, bitterness lacing every word. "Claiming it was a plague that killed them all. In reality, they tried to use the Ceaith-ysyr as a weapon… and failed, horribly." He paused, letting his words sink in. "The devastation left by their extinction still haunts the Fae Wilds to this day."
The loss wasn't just a story from the history books, it was a raw wound, something Rayner himself had felt the lingering echoes of in his homeland as a child.
Marcelia instinctively reached for his hand, grounding him as she continued to gently stroke his hair. Her presence was a quiet reminder that he wasn't alone.
Zearik, his expression hardened, finally spoke up, "So… Julius now carries the burden of this lost race within him, a force that was wiped out because of the Magistrte's greed."
Rayner gave a barely percetible nod, his gaze distant. "Yes, and I welcome the distruction of the Magistrate, since they were the ones that caused the Songbird Princess, my sister, death," the bitter words slipped from Rayner's mouth before he could stop them. The raw pain in his voice cut through the room like s dagger, each syllable heavy with unspoken grief and resentment.
The sorrow in Rayner's eyes was unmistakable, a reflection of a wound that never healed, only buried under decades of isolation and silence. Another wave of grief seemed to crash over him, and his shoulders trembled as he fought to hold back the emotions threatening to consume him.
Marcelia tightened her grip on his hand, her thumb tracing gentle circles against his skin. Still, she didn't say anything, simply offering him the quiet comfort of her presence.
Even Willow, who had been filled with fiery skepticism moments before, softened, her expression shifted from anger to quiet empathy. Zearik lowered his gaze, the heaviness of Rayner's words sinking in as he realized that the grief they all carried was not theirs alone to bear.
Miruna's voice was soft but steady, cutting through the silence. "The pain of loss is one that binds us, Rayner," she murmured. "All of our hearts are heavy with the pain of loss this gloomy night."
Rayner closed his eyes, breathing deeply as he let her words settle over him like a balm, easing the sharp edges of his grief, if only for a moment.
"Wait," Corvis spoke up, his young voice carrying a wisdom that belied his years. "If the Ceaith-ysyr is mad at the Magistrate, that means its thoughts are all jumbled. It won't think clearly, and… Uncle Julius could still get hurt unintentionally.
The gravity of the young dragon's insight settled heavily over them, casting a shadow of fresh worry. Marcelia's gaze hardened with resolve as she glanced at Rayner, her determination clear.
"Rayner and I will focus on finding them, then," she said earnestly, her voice unwavering. "Maybe we can talk some sense into the Ceaith-ysyr before anything happens to Julius.
Rayner nodded, his own resolve mirroring hers as he met her gaze. Despite the pain and turmoil that still lingered within them both, Marcelia's unwavering spirit fueled a flicker of hope.
Vincent's voice, though gentle, held a note of chastisement as he spoke to his finance. "Miruna, I think you owe Rayner an apology for outing him as a prince. You basically threw a tantrum because Willow wasn't listening to you, but that was no excuse to put Rayner on the sot like that. He obviously isn't fully ready to talk about it." There was a rare sternness in his gaze, a glimpse of his frustration with the Sisterhood of the All-Mother and their tendency to prioritize their own purpose, sometimes overlooking the feelings of those involved.
Corvis's voice piped up before Miruna could respond, his innocent tone easing the tension. "Uncle Vinny, that was probably the only way Mama was going to listen," he said thoughtfully.
Rayner sat up, his attention drawn to the young dragon who spoke with surprising maturity for his apparent age. Corvis's skin was a deep, warm tan, a curious blend that seemed to reflect both Zearik's rich brown tone and Willow's fairer complexion. Somehow his skin adapted perfectly to mirror the unique heritage of his adoptive parents, as if he were a biological blend of the two.
Corvis's face bore an uncanny resemblance to both of them, with Willow's sharp, intense eyes and Zearik's softer, more open expression. But it was the distinctly non-human features that caught Rayner's eye- the small dragon horns jutting from Corvis's head, and patches of shimmering scales that seemed almost rainbow, decorating his skin in intricate patterns. The scales reflected hues of black with prismatic hint that caught the light, a testament to his Prism Dragon lineage. Rayner tilted his head, observing the child with a mixture of curiosity and confusion. How could such a creature exist here, so perfectly attuned to his surroundings yet bearing the unmistakable traits of a dragon" It was clear Corvis wasn't just an ordinary child, and as Rayner studied him, he realized the boy was watching him back, his intense, curious eyes taking in every detail.
Corvis tilted his head, eyes fixed on Rayner as he spoke. "Are you really going to help Auntie Marcelia find Uncle Julius?" he asked, his voice soft but filled with a quiet hope. The childlike innocence in his tone contrasted with the wisdom he held.
Rayner looked down at him feeling an unexpected warmth at the trust this young dragon was placing in him. "Yes, little one," he replied his voice gentle and reassuring. "I'll do everthing I can to help her find him and bring him back safe."
Corvis's face lit up, his prismatic scales seeming to shimmer a little brighter with excitement. "That's good! Cause Auntie Marcelia loves Uncle Julius a whole bunch, and it would make her really happy. And Mama says that when Auntie Marcelia is happy, everyone is happy!"
Rayner chuckled softly, charmed by the child's earnest enthusiasm. Corvis's trust and his innocent belief in Rayner's ability to help Marcelia struck a chord within him.
Corvis's innocent smile concealed a depth of cunning that most would never suspect from a childlike creature with such a gentle heart. Those who knew him well understood that, while he might have the sprit and wonder of a five year old, he possessed a remarkable intellect beneath it all. And he was now wielding it with an almost artful precision, his wide eyes and sweet demeanor skillfully nudging Rayner right where he wanted him.
To Rayner, Corvis's innocent inquiries and hopeful eyes were impossible to resist. Every mention of Aunie Marcelia's happiness tugged at Rayner's heart, reinforcing his commitment to the task at hand. But Corvis had already pieced together that Rayner viewed Marcelia as his Tyngan, his fated one. And Corvis, with the cleverness of someone far older then his apparent age, saw an opportunity.
"Oh, and Auntie Marcelia loves her shinies, too!" Corvis said casually, his little voice ringing with enthusiasm, but with just the faintest hint of calculution in his eyes. "I think she'd love it if you found her the prettiest ones. Ane you're a powerful fae, so I bet you could find the best shinies ever!"
Rayner, unaware of the intricate game of manipulation being played, nodded thoughtfully, a soft smile touching his lips. "I'll see what I can find for her," he replied, charmed and unsuspecting.
Corvis's scales shimmered with delight, his plan unfolding perfectly. He'd already managed to turn this powerful fae into a willing participant in his scheme, simply by knowing which strings to pull. With every passing moments, Rayner became more entwined in Corvis's world, the little dragon skillfully guiding him with just the right blend of innocence and subtle persuasion.
Corvis, of course, wasn't entirely selfish. He genuinely wanted Marcelia and Rayneer to be happy. But that didn't mean he couldn't use a little strategy to ensure a steady supply of shinies, and maybe a devoted new uncle, along the way.
Corvis felt their gazes on him and looked up, his innocent facade slipping just a bit as he noticed the collective expression of Zearik, Willow, and even the souls of Cedric and Rellia. They wore that unmistakable look, the one that every mischievous child dreads- the look of a parent or guardian who has caught them mid-scheme and knows exactly what they're up to.
He tried to maintain his wide-eyed innocence blinking up at them with an exaggerated sweet smile. "What?" he asked, his voice dripping with feigned naivety, "I just want Auntie to be happy!"
Zearik raised an eyebrow, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Uh-huh," he said, his tone laced with amusement. "And the shinies have nothing to do with it, right, Corvis?"
Corvis looked down, fidgeting with one of his shiny trinkets, trying to appear as innocent as possible. "Well… Auntie does like shinies," he muttered, his tone just shy of a pout. "And… it would make her happy… which would make me happy… so really, it's all for her."
Willow crossed her arms, her lips pressing into a firm line, though her eyes sparkled with a mix of amusement and affection. Corvis," she said in the familiar, gentle-but-firm tone, "you know better then to manipulate people for shinies, even if it is for a good cause."
Corvis's cheeks flushed, caught red handed but unwilling to fully back down. He looked back at Rayber, giving a final, hopeful smile. "It's still a good idea, though, right?" he asked, as if seeking validation from his newly wrapped-around-the-finger-uncle-to-be.
Rayner, blissfully unaware of the depth of Corvis's little scheme, chuckled, ruffling the young dragos's hair. "It's a very good idea," he said warmly, and Corvis beamed, his little victory still sweet even ubder the watchful eyes of his family.
Marcelia sighed to herself, muttering under her breath, "At least Rayner isn't trying tp steal Corvis's name for snacks…"
Rayner's ears perked up at the mention of snacks, and his eyes shift with subtle gleam of interest. He didin't say anything right away, simply adjusting his posture and offering a small, seemingly innocent smile as he scanned the room. He'd learned enough from Corvis's earlier antics to know that patience, and a bit of cleverness, might yield tasty rewards.
He glanced at Marcelia, his expression smooth and casual. "You know," he began, almost coversationally, "it's been quite the eventful day. I suppose if anyone around here had something… small and edible to offer, I might just find it in myself to relax a bit more."
Corvis, catching onto Rayner's tone, grinned. "Uncle Rayner, are you… are you trying to get us to give you snacks?"
Rayner shrugged, as though the thought hadn't even crossed his mind. "Oh, no, Little One. I am simply mentioning that after all the trouble we've been through, a light refreshment might not go amiss." He gave Corvis a wink, his eyes shining with barely concealed mischief. Marcelia rolled her eyes, but couldn't hide her smirk. "You're worse than Corvis, you know that?"
Rayner leaned back, placing a hand over his heart in mock offense. "I assure you, Tyngan, I would never stoop to such methods. But if someone were kind enough to offer…" he trailed off, casting a hopeful, sideways glace at Zearik.
Zearik snorted, "Rayner if you are hungery, just ask."
"Worth a shot,' Rayner murmured.
Papyrus's happy meow cut through the room, drawing amused glances as he rubbed against Rayner's legs. For those who could understand him, Corvis, Rayner, and Miruna, the translation was clear.
"Yes! Yes! I agree with new Uncle," Papyrus purred eagerly, his tail twitching with excitement. "Snack is needed! And a long nap. Can I has sardines now?"
Rayner let out a low chuckle, giving Papyrus a gentle scratch behind the ears. "I couldn't agree more, little friend. A snack and rest sound perfect, don't they?"
Corvis beamed, clapping his hands together. "See! Even Papyrus thinks snacks are a good idea!" He shot an exaggeratedly innocent look at Zearik and Willow, clearly hoping his wide-eyed pleading expression would work some magic.
Zearik sighed, shaking his head with a smirk. "Alright, alright, I'll see what we've got," he muttered, turning toward the kitchen with a resigned smile. "But don't expect this to work every time."
Papyrus let out a triumphant "Mrrow!' and started totting around in excited little circles, clearly thrilled by the prospect of sardines. Rayner chuckled, giving Corvis a conspiratorial nod. It was a small moment of shared victory.
As the first light of dawn crept through the tavern's windows, the air inside softened. Hyrusa and Dratha bustled from the kitchen, balancing trays of warm food and steaming drinks. Xearik followed with his sleeves rolled up, carying bowls of hearty stew and slices of bread.
"For those who haven't eaten yet," Dratha announced, his deep voice gentle but firm. "You can't fight battles on an empty stomach."
One by one, they ate in silence, exhaustion evident in their faces. Even the ever-playful Corvis slowed down, nestling against Zearik's side as he nibbled of a shiny apple he'd claimed from the tavern's offerings.
Rayner stretched out on the couch with Papyrus curled up on his chest, seemed half-lost in thought, his gaze, distant. Marcelia sat beside him, her fingers absently smoothing his hair while her eyes flickered between her friends and family, as though memorizing this fragile moment of togetherness.
As the sun rose higher, exhaustion finally claimed them. The room fell into a peaceful quiet, the fire and Papyrus's soft purring the only sounds.
Not all dreams that morning would be kind, too much sorrow and uncertainty hung heavy over them, but for this fleeting moment, they were safe. Together.
The flames in the fireplace flicked, casting long shadows on the walls. Marcelia's eyes lingered on the glowing embers as her last thoughts drifted to Julius, out there somewhere and the battles still to come.