The stronghold returned to its usual rhythm within days.
The soldiers, having been properly disciplined, no longer spoke of Elias. They no longer sought him out, no longer tested the limits of their cruelty for amusement. It was as if he had never been there at all.
They trained. They drank. They spoke of war, of conquests, of enemies yet to be crushed beneath their boots.
And Elias?
He became nothing more than a shadow. A thing easily ignored.
Even Caidren did not speak of him.
He attended war meetings with sharp focus, made his demands clear, ensured preparations were in place. He led training drills without pause, his blade moving with deadly precision.
His men watched him carefully, wary of his mood after the last confrontation. But Caidren did not lash out again.
There was no need.
He had reestablished order.
Everything was as it should be.
Elias had been handled. His presence no longer disrupted the stronghold.
And so, no one spoke of him.
No one looked for him.
No one cared.
It was as if he had never existed.
And that was exactly how it was meant to be.
The Weight of Silence
Elias had not left his chambers since that night.
No one had come for him. No orders. No summons. No punishments.
It was a strange thing, being left alone after so long of being noticed only to be hurt.
He had spent years surviving in the shadows, making himself small, making himself invisible. It was how he had endured.
And yet, now that it had finally happened—now that he had truly been forgotten—
The silence felt heavier than it should.
He should have felt relief.
Instead, all he felt was cold.
Elias pulled the fur blanket tighter around his shoulders. The fire had burned low again, and though the room held more warmth than he was used to, his skin still felt chilled.
His body ached, though the worst of the pain had faded. The bruises would remain for a while, but he had endured worse.
He was still here.
Still breathing.
That was all that mattered.
He told himself that.
Again and again.
Even as something deep in his chest felt strangely—hollow.
He shook the thought away.
He had no place here.
He had always known that.
So it did not matter if the stronghold forgot him.
It did not matter at all.