As the students and knights gathered near the commander, the camp fell silent. Commander Elijah stood tall, his face lined with exhaustion.
"Thank you all for coming," Elijah began, "Due to the heavy damage we sustained and the condition of the wounded, we will not be returning to the kingdom immediately. The injured must be fully treated before we can embark on the journey home."
He paused, letting the gravity of his words sink in. "The dragon responsible for this devastation is currently being studied by the southern army. A report has been sent to the King regarding both our findings and the delay in our return."
The students exchanged solemn glances, their once-bright faces shadowed by the weight of the events.
Elijah's voice softened as he continued. "I know you are afraid. What happened today… it was beyond anything we could have anticipated. And as your commander, it was my duty to protect you. But…" His voice faltered briefly, and he looked down, his hands clenched at his sides. "I cannot shake the feeling that I failed you."
Without hesitation, Elijah dropped to one knee, bowing his head. "For this, I apologize. Please, forgive me."
The students gasped, seeing their commander kneel before them. A few students stepped forward, their voices trembling but firm.
"Please, Commander," one said. "Don't blame yourself."
"It wasn't your fault," another added.
Jason watched Commander Elijah kneel before his troops as he thinks to himself. "I perfectly understand… how he feels."
Elijah looked up, his gaze sweeping over the group. In their faces, he saw not reproach, but forgiveness. A faint, bittersweet smile touched his lips. "Thank you," he said, standing once more. "Now, return to your tents and rest. The day after tomorrow, we will ride back home."
The students nodded silently, shuffling away toward their tents, their movements heavy with exhaustion. Among them, Adam and Cynthia walked side by side, their footsteps slower than the rest.
Cynthia glanced up at Adam, noticing the tightness in his expression. "Are you… okay?"
Adam forced a small smile. "Don't worry about me. I'm just glad everyone else is okay."
Cynthia frowned and, after a moment of hesitation, reached out to hold his hand. Her grip was firm but comforting. "Adam… it's okay to cry, you know."
Adam opened his mouth to respond but said nothing. Cynthia's gaze softened, but before she could press further, she noticed Victor standing nearby. She released Adam's hand and ran towards him, leaving Adam standing alone.
For a long moment, Adam didn't move. The sounds of the camp—murmurs, footsteps, the crackle of fires—faded into a quiet hum as he stood motionless, staring at nothing. The silence around him seemed to echo louder than any noise.
Four days later, the gates of the kingdom swung open as the procession returned. The people gathered in the streets, cheering and waving banners. But their joyous shouts faltered as the knights, captains, and students rode past with somber expressions. The clang of armor and the measured clatter of horses' hooves were the only sounds that remained, filling the streets with an oppressive silence.
Commander Elijah dismounted and walked purposefully toward a modest house on the edge of the square. He paused at the door, taking a deep breath before knocking. The door creaked open to reveal a woman with kind but weary eyes. She smiled faintly when she saw him.
"Commander Elijah. What a surprise," she said. "I'm sorry I couldn't join the others outside, but—"
"Mrs. Gifford," Elijah interrupted softly, "I'm afraid… I have some terrible news."
The woman's smile faltered, her brows knitting together. "Terrible news?" she repeated, her voice trembling.
After a silent moment, she simply stared at him, as if the words hadn't registered. Then her knees buckled, and she crumpled to the ground, tears spilling down her cheeks. A quiet, anguished sob escaped her lips, growing louder with each passing second.
Elijah knelt beside her. "I'm so sorry," he murmured.
Meanwhile, Adam walked through the cobblestone streets until he reached the tailor shop. As he entered, a wave of hushed whispers filled the room. A group of girls working at their stations blushed and giggled, their gazes darting toward him. But Adam paid them no mind, his steps purposeful as he approached the counter.
"Excuse me," he said to one of the girls. "I'm looking for Isabel."
"Oh," the girl stammered, her cheeks reddening. "Hold on a second. I'll go get her."
"Oh, and, tell her to meet me outside."
"Sure thing." She disappeared into the back.
A few minutes later, Isabel emerged, wiping her hands on her dress. She was a petite young woman with soft features and warm brown eyes. "You were looking for me?" she asked, tilting her head curiously.
Adam nodded. "Yes. My name is Adam Spencer. I'm a friend of David."
Her face lit up at the mention of David's name. "Oh, I heard you all just got back from your exams. How's David?"
Adam took a deep breath. "Actually… he wanted me to tell you something."
Isabel's smile wavered, her brow furrowing slightly. "What is it?"
The color drained from Isabel's face as realization dawned. Her lips quivered, and tears began streaming down her cheeks. "No," she whispered, shaking her head. "No… that can't be…"
Adam's own eyes stung as he reached out, pulling her into a gentle embrace. "I'm so sorry," he murmured, holding her as her sobs broke through. She clung to him, her grief pouring out in waves.
The rain fell in a steady rhythm, a soft murmur against the silence of the graves. Adam stood motionless before David's headstone, his hair plastered to his face.
Behind him, Frank, Cynthia, Mike, and Ben waited. Frank finally stepped forward, his boots sinking slightly into the muddy ground. "Adam, let's head back. You're drenched."
"It should have been me, Frank. I should have been the one… crushed underneath that boulder."
Frank's eyes widened. He stepped closer, grabbed Adam's soaked shirt with both hands, and pulled him around to face him. "What the hell did you just say?! Why would you say something like that? Stop it, Adam! Stop blaming yourself! There was nothing you could do!"
Adam's head bowed, rain dripping from his chin. "That's exactly why I blame myself. There was nothing… I could do."
Frank's grip loosened, but he didn't let go. "Adam… none of us were prepared for what happened. We all did what we could. David… he made his choice. He saved Cynthia because that's who he was. You can't take that away from him by drowning yourself in guilt."
Cynthia, Mike, and Ben stepped forward, forming a tight circle around Adam. Cynthia reached out, her hand trembling slightly, and placed it on his shoulder. "Adam, David wouldn't want this. He'd want us to remember him, but he'd also want us to move forward."
Adam's fists clenched tighter, but he nodded slowly. As the others embraced him, the rain seemed to lighten, though the weight in his heart remained.
Early the next day, Frank made his way through the grand library, the echo of his footsteps breaking the silence. He reached a heavy door and hesitated for a moment.
Before he could knock, the door creaked open, and Cynthia stepped out, her cheeks flushed, her gaze darting to the floor. "Oh, Frank! I… I wasn't expecting you." She brushed past him quickly. "I'll just be on my way."
Frank turned, his brow furrowed as he watched her leave. "What's up with her?" he said before pushing the door open.
Inside, Counselor Charles sat behind an ornate desk, hurriedly closing a drawer beneath it. He looked up and said "Franklin, what brings you here? Do you need something?"
Frank closed the door behind him, leaning against it as he fixed his grandfather with a sharp, unwavering stare. "Yeah. We need to talk."