Echoes in the Ashes
The battlefield was silent.
Not the peaceful kind.
The kind that felt wrong.
The air still crackled with the remnants of magic, the scent of burned stone and steel lingering like a ghost of the battle that had just ended. The shadows had receded, but the weight of their presence clung to the ruins, as if the darkness itself refused to forget what had transpired here.
Elara stood frozen, her fingers still curled around the hilt of her blade. The muscles in her arms ached from the fight, but that pain was nothing compared to the tightness in her chest.
She was staring at the place where he had been.
The place where he had vanished.
Again.
A bitter laugh almost escaped her lips.
It was always like this, wasn’t it?
Every time she got close—every time she thought she might finally end this, finally put an end to the past that refused to die—he slipped through her fingers like smoke.
Like he was never even there at all.
“Elara?”
She blinked.
Jax was standing beside her now, his brows furrowed, his usual smirk replaced by something that looked too much like concern.
“Are you—?”
“I’m fine.”
She wasn’t.
But Jax didn’t call her out on the lie.
Instead, he just sighed, rubbing the back of his head. “Well. That was fun. Definitely thought we were gonna die there for a second. Great teamwork, everyone.”
Kael shot him a look. “You were mostly screaming.”
Jax shrugged. “It’s called morale-boosting.”
Lucienne sheathed her blade with a sharp click. “Call it whatever you want. The real problem is that he got away.”
Again.
The word hung in the air, unspoken but understood by all.
Kael crossed his arms. “We need to figure out where he went. If he’s regrouping, then we don’t have much time before he—”
“He won’t attack again so soon,” the Dragon King interrupted.
The others turned to look at him.
Despite the battle, he looked almost unbothered. His golden eyes remained sharp, his stance unshaken, but there was something in his expression—something quiet.
“He didn’t retreat out of weakness,” the Dragon King continued. “He left because he wanted to.”
Elara exhaled through her nose. “Then that means—”
“He’s planning something.”
---
A Moment That Wasn’t Quite Peaceful
The campfire flickered weakly.
It wasn’t warm.
Not really.
Not in the way they needed it to be.
Elara sat with her back against a fallen column, her sword resting beside her. The ruins around them were eerily quiet now, stripped of the battle’s chaos. But the silence felt just as heavy.
Jax was poking the fire with a stick, his expression uncharacteristically neutral. Even he wasn’t cracking jokes now.
Kael was sharpening his dagger, his focus unwavering.
Lucienne was standing guard, her hand resting lightly on her sword hilt, eyes scanning the darkness as if expecting an ambush at any moment.
And the Dragon King—
He was watching her.
Elara could feel his gaze.
She didn’t have to look to know.
She knew that stare all too well—the one that was always half curiosity, half something else. Something unreadable.
Something that made her chest feel too tight.
“Are you going to sit there all night?” he asked, voice calm.
Elara exhaled, finally turning her head toward him. “I’m not tired.”
His gaze didn’t waver. “That’s not what I asked.”
A flicker of irritation sparked in her chest. “I’m fine.”
A pause.
Then—
“You always say that.”
Elara clenched her jaw.
Because he wasn’t wrong.
But she didn’t want to hear it.
Not from him.
Not now.
She turned back toward the fire, watching as the flames danced weakly against the cold night air.
“You don’t have to fight this alone,” he said, softer this time.
Elara closed her eyes.
She knew that.
But knowing and believing were two different things.
---
Memories That Wouldn’t Stay Buried
Sleep never came.
Not really.
Elara wasn’t sure how much time had passed before she finally gave up on the idea of resting. The others were asleep—or at least resting with their eyes closed.
But she couldn’t.
Not with his voice still echoing in her head.
Not with the memories clawing their way back to the surface.
She stood, moving away from the campfire. The night air was cold against her skin, but she barely noticed.
Her thoughts were elsewhere.
Somewhere darker.
Somewhere she didn’t want to go.
She found herself standing at the edge of the ruins, staring out into the vast, empty land beyond. The wind howled, carrying whispers she couldn’t quite understand.
“Elara.”
She stiffened.
The Dragon King was standing behind her now.
She hadn’t even heard him approach.
She didn’t turn around.
“I thought you were sleeping,” she murmured.
“I was.” A pause. “Until I noticed you weren’t.”
She let out a quiet, humorless chuckle. “Didn’t know you cared that much.”
Silence.
Then—
“I do.”
The words were so soft, so unexpected, that Elara finally turned to face him.
He wasn’t looking at her.
Not directly.
But his expression was different—something quieter, something that wasn’t quite the cold, untouchable king he always pretended to be.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Then—
“You knew him, didn’t you?” he asked.
Elara’s breath caught.
Her fingers curled into fists.
She didn’t answer.
But that silence was the answer.
The Dragon King’s gaze sharpened. “Who was he?”
Elara swallowed hard.
A name burned at the back of her throat.
But she couldn’t say it.
Not yet.
Not now.
So instead, she turned back toward the night, her voice barely above a whisper.
“Someone I should’ve let go of a long time ago.”
And for once—
The Dragon King didn’t push for more.
---
A Storm Yet to Come
Dawn arrived too soon.
The fire had long since died out, and the others were already preparing to move.
They had no time to waste.
The battle had ended, but the war was far from over.
Elara strapped her sword to her waist, her movements mechanical. The exhaustion in her bones remained, but she pushed it aside.
She always did.
As they began their journey forward, she didn’t look back at the ruins.
Didn’t look back at the place where he had disappeared.
But the past had a way of chasing her down.
And she knew—
She wasn’t done with it yet.