Elara took a step closer, her voice cutting through the tense silence between them like a blade.
"You were supposed to be my knight," she spat, her chest rising and falling with restrained fury. "So tell me, Cedric, where were you when I was about to get swallowed? What were you doing while I was reaching for help?"
Cedric's breath hitched.
The words struck deeper than he expected.
You were supposed to be my knight.
His hands curled into fists, nails digging into his palms.
The image of that day flashed through his mind, unwanted but relentless.
The swirling vortex. The deafening roar of the battlefield.
Elara reaching out, her fingers mere inches from salvation—
And Luca getting there first.
He clenched his jaw, but it didn't stop the flood of memories, nor did it stop the deeper, more festering wound that had taken root inside him since that moment.
Since that man.
Luca.
