Zephyr's eyes slowly opened, a dull ache radiating from every part of his body. He groaned softly, attempting to lift his head, but the pain stopped him. His whole body was wrapped in bandages, a reminder of the battle he barely remembered. His gaze shifted to the side, and his heart skipped when he saw Elira, still holding his hand, sleeping beside him.
He couldn't help but watch her for a moment, taking in the peaceful look on her face. He felt an overwhelming urge to reach out, to brush the strand of hair that fell over her face. He moved slowly, careful not to disturb her, but just that small movement was enough to stir her awake.
Her eyes snapped open, wide and panicked, before they landed on him. Relief washed over her face, followed by something else he didn't expect: anger.
Without a word, Elira slapped him across the face.
Zephyr blinked in shock, the sting of her slap echoing on his cheek. Before he could say anything, she threw herself at him, her arms wrapping around him tightly. Her body shook with sobs.
For a moment, Zephyr sat frozen, unsure of how to react. The world around him seemed to blur as he held her, feeling her tremble against him. When Elira finally pulled back, her face was tear-streaked, her eyes swollen and red from worry.
"What happened?" Zephyr asked softly, his voice full of concern.
Elira wiped her eyes, her voice still shaky. "You idiot… You pushed yourself too hard in that fight. You collapsed. If it weren't for one of the soldiers dragging you back, you would've—"
She couldn't finish the sentence, her voice breaking. Zephyr felt his chest tighten. Memories from the battle came rushing back—fire, smoke, and then nothing.
"How long has it been?" he asked, his voice low, trying to stay steady.
"Three days," Elira said, her voice softening. "Three days, Zephyr. I thought I was going to lose you."
Zephyr absorbed her words, the gravity of the situation hitting him hard. He gently took her shoulders, his eyes searching hers. "And the battle? What happened?"
Elira hesitated, her eyes flicking to the floor before she spoke. "We held out for two days… but on the third day, we had to retreat. We couldn't hold our position anymore."
Zephyr's expression darkened. "And today?"
She walked over to the window, pulling the curtains back to show the storm raging outside. The wind howled through the trees, and the rain beat against the glass. "The Arcanans sent a message… They're offering a truce today. No fighting."
Zephyr gave a short laugh, though his eyes remained serious. "A break from the battle, huh? Must be nice." He turned back to her, his tone softening. "You should rest, Elira. You've been here the whole time, haven't you? I bet you haven't slept in days."
Elira stood by the door, hesitating. "Are you sure you're okay alone? I just… I can't leave you."
Zephyr smiled, though it was faint. "I'll be fine. You need to rest more than I do."
Elira looked at him, still unsure, before finally nodding. "Alright… but promise me you won't push yourself too hard, okay?"
"I promise."
She smiled at him one last time before stepping out, but just before the door closed, Zephyr called out in a teasing tone, "I can still feel you lingering there, Elira. Go to your room and rest."
Her eyes met his, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "Alright… but don't overdo it, Zephyr."
As she left, Zephyr leaned back, letting out a long sigh. His body ached, but it wasn't the physical pain that occupied his thoughts. His mind drifted back to memories—memories of when he was younger, of a frail, sickly child who had spent his days in bed. His mother had always been there, brushing his hair or holding his hand, but he was weak, always the one who couldn't keep up with the other children.
But then, one day, things had changed. He woke up with strength he hadn't known he had. That same night, wolves had attacked his village. He had fought them off, not understanding how he was so strong, but when the battle ended, the villagers looked at him with fear in their eyes.
They called him a monster.
Even his mother, the one person he had trusted above all, looked at him like he was something to be feared. She had begged him to leave, and the village cast him out. Alone, he wandered until he found a mercenary group willing to take him in. He became their errand boy, doing their chores and tasks to stay close, to belong.
But that didn't last. When they were ambushed, Zephyr's true strength showed again. The mercenaries, once friendly, now looked at him like he was dangerous. The leader handed him some coins and told him to leave.
And so, once again, he was alone.
Zephyr's thoughts were interrupted when Elira returned, carrying a tray of food. She sat beside him, her presence calming as she fed him. "Eat," she said softly, lifting a spoonful of porridge to his lips.
He obeyed, each bite feeling like more than just nourishment—it felt like her care, her affection, quietly woven into each movement.
When he finished, she smiled at him. "You need rest now, Zephyr. Don't argue."
Zephyr opened his mouth to protest, but instead, he found himself whispering, "Elira… could you stay a little longer?"
Elira paused, her eyes softening as she set the tray aside and pulled him into a warm embrace. Zephyr closed his eyes, holding her tightly as the world outside seemed to disappear.
When she pulled back, she tucked him into bed, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead. "Sleep well, Zephyr," she whispered, her voice soothing like a lullaby.
With a final, lingering glance, she left the room, leaving Zephyr wrapped in the warmth of her presence, the storm outside forgotten as sleep claimed him.