The meadow stretched before them, bathed in the warm, amber glow of a perpetual sunset. Wildflowers swayed gently in the breeze, their petals flickering like embers, while soft rivers of mist curled along the ground. Time here seemed to stand still—quiet, peaceful, untouched by the chaos of the outside world. A perfect, serene escape from reality.
Elias and Ava stood at the edge of the clearing, their eyes fixed on a figure standing alone in the distance. A man, surrounded by petals that danced in the wind. A man they immediately recognized: Kairo.
Clad in worn but sturdy armor, Kairo stood with his arms crossed over his chest, his posture guarded. His eyes, however, were focused on the horizon, as if searching for answers that lay just beyond reach. He stood still, silent, as though the words he needed were buried somewhere within the landscape itself.
Behind him, a woman moved awkwardly through the tall grass. She stumbled with each step, as though her body had forgotten how to move. Her footsteps were stiff, her movements jerky, like someone unfamiliar with the coordination of their own limbs.
"Okay," she muttered to herself, trying to regain balance. "Not exactly graceful, but... I'll get the hang of it."
Kairo didn't turn around, but the faintest twitch of his lips suggested a smile—one that quickly faded before it could fully settle.
The woman tripped on a patch of flowers, her fall exaggerated by the clumsy motion. She winced, looking up sheepishly. "That... wasn't intentional."
Kairo glanced over his shoulder, his eyes narrowing. "You're bowing to a flower patch."
"Yeah, well, I like to keep things formal," she said, brushing off the mistake with a lightness that belied the uncertainty in her voice.
She shifted her weight from foot to foot, unsure of how to stand, the awkwardness of her movements adding a certain vulnerability to the scene.
"These new legs sure are wonderful," she giggled, trying to lighten the moment.
Kairo's gaze lingered on her a moment longer than he intended. For the first time in days, something inside him shifted. The tight knot of tension in his chest loosened. She didn't belong here—not in his world. But here she was, trying, fumbling, refusing to leave him behind.
He let out a slow, almost reluctant breath. "You didn't have to come here, Esmer."
Esmer took another step closer, still moving stiffly but with more purpose now. "I know. But I wanted to."
Kairo turned back to the horizon, his shoulders slumping under the weight of everything he wasn't saying. "Do you think playing around where peasants dwell will make your father approve of my campaign against the 'Holy Ones'? The upper echelon is far too blinded by their gifts to notice the suffering they cause the lesser people."
Esmer's voice softened, but there was a quiet steadiness to it. "No, unfortunately, it won't change his mind. But with me here, they can't just do whatever they want with the village. It's a start."
Kairo shook his head, frustration simmering just beneath the surface. "It's not enough. It won't fix anything. It won't bring back those we lost to their sacrifices."
Esmer stepped closer again, this time with determination in her stride. She stood just a few paces away from him now. "I know. I know it won't bring them back," she said, her voice steady, though tinged with sadness. "But maybe it will buy us time—time to figure out what's left."
Kairo swallowed hard, his throat tight with words he couldn't quite articulate. "You don't understand," he murmured, his voice raw. "You've had everything since you were born—wealth, talent, the admiration of others. You're a good leader. Meanwhile, I... I can't even keep the people I care about safe."
There was a long silence between them. Esmer knew rushing him wouldn't help, so she waited, patient but unwavering, her presence an anchor to the storm of emotions swirling within him.
Finally, Kairo spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. "I thought... I thought if I could be the best swordsman, if I could master everything, maybe my life would finally matter. Maybe I'd finally be worth something."
The raw honesty in his voice cut through the air, and Elias and Ava both felt their hearts tighten. This was a side of Kairo they hadn't seen before—the part he kept hidden behind layers of pride and pain.
Esmer's eyes softened. "You are worth something, Kairo," she said gently. "Not because of your rank, or how many battles you've won. Just because... you're you."
Kairo gave a bitter laugh, but it lacked humor. "Right. Tell that to all the people who were hurt because of me."
She didn't flinch. Instead, she stepped closer, closing the distance between them, standing firm despite the uncertainty in her own heart. "Kairo, I love you," she whispered, her voice soft but resolute. "Even if you reject me a hundred times, I'll still love you. Even if you defy the 'Holy Ones' and bring judgment upon Astravell, I'll still love you."
Kairo blinked, stunned by the intensity of her confession. For a moment, he didn't know how to respond.
She took another step forward, standing just inches away from him now. "So please," she continued, her voice thick with emotion, "don't feel like you're worthless. Because to me, you're worth more than this entire world."
Elias watched them for a long moment, his gaze softening, though the weight of everything he had been carrying still lingered behind his eyes. The walls he had built around himself weren't gone yet, but the cracks were beginning to form.
"Goddammit," Elias muttered, wiping away the tears that had escaped his eyes. "What's with this backstory?"
He turned to Ava, whose tears were flowing freely now. The rawness of the moment had broken something in him. The truth was, he missed her—he missed everything about her, about their shared moments. The late-night talks, the quiet comfort of being together, the feeling of not having to carry the weight alone.
For the first time in what felt like forever, the tightness in his chest eased, just a little.
"Ava," Elias whispered, leaning closer to her. "Thank you."
Ava laughed, a sound so pure and real it felt like a lifeline. "Finally."
Elias gave her a small, reluctant smile. It wasn't much, but it was a start.
They stood there for a long time, side by side, hands intertwined. Two souls, once torn apart, now coming together.
And for the first time in days, Elias didn't feel quite so alone.
Then, suddenly, the sky above the meadow flickered. It was subtle at first, like a glitch in the fabric of reality itself. Elias tensed immediately, his body on high alert. Something wasn't right. The world around them felt... wrong.
Ava clung to Elias's arm, her eyes wide with concern. "What was that?"
Elias stared at the horizon, where the sky shimmered unnaturally, as if the edges of their world were beginning to unravel. It was subtle but unmistakable—like the fragile peace they had found here was slipping away.
"Lucius," Elias said, his voice steady despite the rising tension. "Care to elaborate?"
Lucius appeared before them, his presence a sudden shift in the atmosphere. "This particular memory has fulfilled its purpose," he said, his voice calm but with an edge of finality. "It will now merge back into the larger whole. Esmer wanted to share this memory with those who could benefit from it, and I'm glad you two were the ones to witness it."
Ava frowned. "So, what happens now?"
"Now," Lucius replied, his tone growing more serious, "I will ask Elias the same question I asked Miss Faraday." He looked directly at Elias. "What did the quest say when you first received it?"
Elias paused, the memory flickering in his mind. A knowing smile crept onto his face.
"Ah, yes. And what is a game?" he asked in return.
Lucius nodded, a glimmer of pride in his eyes. "Exactly."
"It's time for you two to go back now," Lucius said, his voice heavy with meaning. "Miss Faraday and Mister Stratton are in quite a bit of a pinch."
He snapped his fingers, and the world around them folded into darkness.