They moved toward the water, Lyra supporting Alex by the arm, helping him stay upright. His steps were slow and unsteady, every movement seeming to bring him pain. From time to time, he hissed softly, wincing, but didn't say a word. He didn't want to complain. Not now, when they finally had a moment of relative peace.
They reached the edge of the oasis and immediately collapsed to their knees by the water. It was cool, crystal clear, and its surface reflected the moonlight. Without hesitation, they plunged their hands in and began to drink, letting the cold water soothe their parched throats.
— I've never drunk anything this good in my life, Lyra sighed, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.
Alex didn't reply. He still felt the pain pulsing in his back, but the water helped him focus on something else, even for just a moment.
After a short rest, they began to set up camp. But this time, it was much harder than usual. Most of the things they could've used had been destroyed or lost during the battle. Without the contents of Alex's backpack, finding anything that could shield them from the night's chill was nearly impossible.
— This isn't good, Lyra sighed, looking around at their makeshift camp.
— Good thing I gave you the map, Alex tried to smile, but it came out as more of a grimace.
— Tomorrow, once the sun's up, we'll check what's left of your gear, Lyra replied, trying to keep a hopeful tone.
The desert night was freezing cold, and without proper blankets or wind protection, they were in for a tough night. They needed more than water—they needed food and shelter.
— I'll look for something to eat. Stay here, Lyra said firmly, rising to her feet.
Alex let out a quiet snort.
— As if I'm in any shape to go wandering around, he muttered, his voice tired.
Lyra didn't respond, only disappeared into the shadows of the trees deeper in the oasis. Alex watched her go for a moment, then leaned his back against a cool tree trunk and closed his eyes.
He wanted to rest, though he knew sleep wouldn't come easily.
Time passed, and the night deepened around him. The wind whispered through the leaves, creating soft, calming rustles.
After a while, he heard footsteps.
Lyra had returned.
— Well? he asked immediately, opening his eyes.
She didn't need to answer. Her empty hands said it all.
— Nothing, she sighed, sitting down beside him. No fruit, no animals. Nothing we could eat.
— I'll start a fire. It'll help us keep warm, Lyra said, spreading out their makeshift bedding. Lie down here.
At first, Alex wanted to protest. He felt like he shouldn't give in so easily, like he should be the one keeping watch, not resting. But the pain in his back and the fatigue pressing down on him were stronger. In the end, he nodded and let himself collapse onto the soft sand.
Meanwhile, Lyra began gathering branches and dry leaves to use as kindling. Finding them at the edge of the oasis wasn't difficult, and within minutes she had a small fire going. The flames danced quietly, casting warm orange light across their tired faces.
When everything was ready, Lyra lay down next to Alex and curled up against him, seeking warmth. Her body was delicate, yet he could feel the strength radiating from her—something he sometimes secretly envied.
They lay there in silence, staring at the stars.
The sky over the desert was completely unlike that of the cities—clear, vast, full of stars that seemed to shimmer with each breath of the night. Each one looked like it held a secret, as if it led to worlds they could only dream about.
The silence between them wasn't awkward. It was peaceful. Soothing.
Suddenly Lyra looked at Alex, the firelight reflecting in her eyes.
— Thank you.
Alex turned his head toward her, his brow slightly furrowed.
— For what?
Her gaze was soft, full of emotions she couldn't express with words.
— For everything, she whispered. For helping me. For escaping with me. For never turning your back on me, even when everything seemed lost. For just… being here.
Alex was silent for a moment, processing her words.
He didn't see himself as a hero. He had done what he believed was right. What was necessary. And yet in her eyes, he saw something more—something he hadn't noticed before.
He reached out and gently brushed a strand of hair from her forehead.
— You don't have to thank me, he said quietly. I can't imagine doing anything else.
Lyra smiled softly and nestled against him again.
Even the distant roars of monsters couldn't disturb them.
The fire crackled gently, the stars shone above like ancient beacons, and the two of them—exhausted, wounded, but together—slowly drifted off to sleep, gazing at one another.