"Father…" she whispered, the fire in her veins simmering down.
General Morgan lay propped up against the roots of a gnarled tree, blood staining his armor, his breathing ragged. His eyes met hers, stern, but not unkind.
"It's really you," Khezly said, kneeling beside him. Her voice trembled beneath her composed exterior.
Morgan managed a weak smile. "You've grown… fiercer than I imagined."
Darion and Xenric remained still, wounded, breathless, uncertain whether the moment was safe. Xenric kept one hand protectively in front of Darion, his body slightly hunched despite the searing burn across his chest.
"Why are you with them?" Khezly's voice turned sharper, her gaze moving between Xenric and Darion.
"They saved me," Morgan said. "Without them, I'd be buried beneath Aeronberg's ruin."
Khezly's gaze softened for only a moment, but the coldness returned just as quickly. "I thought you were dead. after all these years."
Morgan coughed, a painful sound, but his tone was calm. "I had reasons. reasons that I hope one day you'll understand."
Silence fell again. The birds had not returned to the trees, and the smoke from the distance still trailed up into the morning sky.
Khezly's eyes flicked toward Xenric once more. "You. what are your names?"
Xenric met her gaze, standing straight despite the pain. "I'm Xenric… he's Darion. We're not your enemies."
"Everyone is someone's enemy," she muttered.
Still, she stood, stepping back from her father but not turning her back to them.
"Rest here," she said at last. "I'll scout the path ahead. But if you betray him…" Her eyes gleamed, one blue, one green, like opposing forces barely restrained. "I'll finish what I started."
With that, Khezly disappeared into the forest shadows, leaving behind more questions than answers.
Darion limped closer to Morgan and dropped to his knees, exhaustion heavy in his bones. "What the hell was that?"
Xenric didn't answer. His eyes remained fixed on the path the elf had vanished down, heart still racing. Something about her, something in those eyes, felt like the beginning of another storm.
Darion sat with his back against a tree, wiping the dried blood from his face with a tattered sleeve. His breath had finally slowed, though every inhale was accompanied by pain. The image of the stone slamming into him still lingered in his thoughts.
Xenric sat a few feet away, shirtless now, his scorched tunic torn off, leaving the raw burns on his chest exposed to the cool morning air.
Darion turned to him, voice soft but steady. "What now?"
Xenric didn't answer immediately. He stared past the trees, then to the kingdom of Aeronberg, eyes unfocused, mind caught somewhere between what just happened and what was coming next.
Darion pressed again. "Xenric… what do we do now?"
Xenric looked up, blinking as though Darion had pulled him out of a daze. His voice was low. "We keep moving. That's all we can do."
Darion furrowed his brow. "Keep moving to where? Aeronberg is gone. We don't know where that elf really stands, and General Morgan is barely alive."
"I know," Xenric replied. He stood slowly, ignoring the sting in his body. "But there's something bigger going on here. Alaric, the slavers, Kargrosh, even Khezly… none of this is coincidence. We're caught in something that's been building for years."
Darion was silent for a moment, then sighed. "I'm tired, man."
"I know," Xenric said quietly. "So am I."
Darion looked over at Morgan, still unconscious and breathing shallowly. "He needs help. Real help. And we need weapons, shelter, and a plan."
Xenric nodded. "There's a village north of here. A day's travel. If it's still standing, we might find aid."
Darion chuckled bitterly. "If it's not burned to the ground first."
Xenric glanced at the sky, the early light filtering through smoke and leaves. "Then we better move before it is."
But how did you know there's a village?" Darion followed.
A heavy silence settled between them. Darion stood, clutching his side. "Let's find that village."
And without another word, they lifted the weakened general between them and began the slow march into the uncertain dawn.
Khezly returned from the shadows.
Her steps were near silent, barely disturbing the dew-covered leaves beneath her boots. She moved with the elegance of a born scout, sharp eyes, focused presence. When she emerged from the trees, Xenric and Darion instinctively tightened their grip on the unconscious General Morgan, but Khezly raised a hand.
"The path ahead is clear," she said simply, walking past them and kneeling beside her father. Her expression softened as she placed a hand over his chest, checking his breathing. "He needs rest... but he'll live."
Neither Xenric nor Darion spoke immediately. There was still wariness in their eyes, but something about her tone which is calm, focused, steady, kept them from reacting harshly.
After a moment of silence, Khezly looked up at them. "Where are you heading?"
Xenric exchanged a brief look with Darion before answering. "North. There's a village beyond the ridge, quiet, hidden. We need shelter."
Khezly nodded slowly, brushing a strand of silver-blonde hair from her face. "That's a long way... but I know it."
"You're helping us now?" Darion asked, still cautious.
She didn't look offended. Instead, her voice dropped low, quiet. "I am helping him," she said, eyes drifting to Morgan. "But for now, that means helping you too."
Xenric finally relaxed his stance, nodding. "Then let's move. The sooner we leave this place behind, the better."
As they began walking, Khezly took the lead, eyes sharp, senses attuned. Xenric and Darion carried Morgan carefully, moving as quickly as they could through the thickening forest.
The destruction of Aeronberg still echoed behind them, but ahead, the path slowly began to open.
The forest had quieted again. Their footsteps were the only sounds, save for the occasional rustle of leaves in the soft morning breeze. The light filtered gently through the trees, gold and pale, casting long shadows that danced around them.
Darion broke the silence.
"What about Aeronberg?" he asked, his voice low, uncertain. "What's going to happen now?"
Xenric didn't answer right away. He kept his eyes forward, focused on the uneven trail. General Morgan stirred slightly in their arms, but still hadn't regained full consciousness. Khezly slowed her pace, glancing back over her shoulder.
"It's burning," she said, her voice even, but hollow. "You saw it. We all did."
Darion's jaw clenched. "But that was home. There were still people."
"There are always survivors," Xenric finally said, softly. "Some would have escaped through the eastern routes. Maybe even to the mountains. But the kingdom…" He hesitated. "The kingdom won't be the same. Not after this."
"No," Khezly agreed, stepping over a gnarled root. "Warlord Kargrosh doesn't leave anything the same."
A silence fell again, heavier this time. The thought of Aeronberg, its grand halls, its people, its pride, now reduced to rubble and fire, left an ache in Darion's chest.
He remembered the markets bustling with life, the laughter in the courtyards, the ringing bells of the towers.
All gone.
"Do you think... the King is still alive?" Darion asked.
Xenric's grip tightened on Morgan. "I don't know. But if he is, he's still fighting."
"That's what kings do," Khezly added, not without a trace of sadness. "Even if it kills them."