Once again, the young man found himself at a banquet, accompanied by the girl and Arwik. They weren't interested in the lavish spread or the lively atmosphere around them.
The girl pointed toward the table.
"Look at this."
It was some sort of stuffed bread, unfamiliar to them both.
"Yeah, I've never seen that before either,"
The young man said before eagerly stuffing his face.
"It's all so good!"
She exclaimed, taking a bite herself.
"You almost don't have to chew. So tender."
They both laughed, ignoring the disdainful glares directed their way.
An old man, well-dressed and with an air of importance, approached them. His eyes immediately focused on the girl.
"What's with you? Pale skin, horns… You almost look like a devil! Is that some sort of curse?"
The girl looked at him, confused, not quite understanding his words.
"What's with you?"
she asked bluntly.
"You don't seem strong at all. How can someone get so fat?"
Her voice was one of genuine curiosity, but her phrasing left much to be desired.
The old noble's face flushed red with anger, but before he could say anything foolish, another noble—a taller, more composed figure—stepped in.
He extended his hand with a warm smile.
"Sorry about him… He's a bit old-fashioned, you see."
The girl looked at his hand, puzzled, unsure of what to do.
The young man leaned in and explained the concept of a handshake.
The noble had fiery orange hair and a welcoming presence, his smile warm and genuine. He was the man veyr had escorted to the Capital on his first mission. After the fall of Harvent, his family had regained their former influence, and he had become one of the leading figures in the city.
The banquet ended without further incident, though Arwik seemed distant, his mind lost in thought after hearing the news about his old friend.
The young man was awarded a hefty sum for defending the city.
Later that night, the girl and the young man sat on the roof of the inn they were staying at. The moonlight barely illuminated the surrounding buildings, and the world felt quiet and still.
"So this is the city you were talking about… Not half bad,"
The girl said, gazing at the dark horizon.
"Yeah… there's still plenty of this world I don't know,"
The young man replied.
A pause fell between them.
"So… what should we do next?"
The young man asked softly.
The girl turned to him, her gaze intense.
"I kind of want to see the world. Explore… with you."
She looked deep into his eyes.
"Me too."
Meanwhile, Arwik wandered through the night, lost in his thoughts. He had what he always wanted—freedom—but something was missing. His friends, the ones he'd known, were gone. His disciple was still with him, but it didn't seem right for him to be following them around.
As he wandered, a flicker of movement caught his eye. Someone was moving quickly, a familiar energy emanating from them. It seemed like they were fleeing from something.
Arwik followed the figure discreetly, moving through the shadows. Eventually, the figure ducked into a dark alley, weaving between buildings.
Arwik followed, his steps swift and silent, until he cornered the person.
The figure froze, panic flashing across their face.
"Remove your hood."
Arwik's voice was firm, commanding.
The figure hesitated before slowly pulling back their hood, revealing a familiar face.
The dark figure—the one who had pushed him into the red horizon. But why was she here? She had betrayed him to return to her god.
"How are you here? How are you even alive?"
Her voice trembled with panic. The words she had spoken, the betrayal, flooded back to him, but the rage that should have consumed him felt distant—an old, stale thing, no longer enough to define him.
"You left me to die..."
Arwik's voice was cold, cutting through the thick silence.
Her voice cracked with regret.
"I... I thought I had no choice..."
Arwik took a step closer, his presence overwhelming.
"I don't want to hear excuses."
She trembled slightly, as though bracing for a blow. The silence between them thickened, both of them caught in the tension of an old wound. Arwik's eyes bore into hers, searching for the answer he didn't know if he wanted. There was guilt, yes. But also something else. Pain. Years of suffering.
"I am the worst,"
He whispered, the words barely audible, but they hung in the air like a confession.
Arwik didn't know how to respond. The anger he had carried for so long—fueling his every thought—was slipping away, almost as if it had never been there.
He looked at her, the woman who had once been everything and then nothing. She hadn't aged much, but the ragged clothes she wore were a stark reminder of how far she had fallen.
"Why are you here?"
Arwik asked, his voice softer now, tinged with a weariness that surprised him. He didn't want to hear excuses, yet the need to understand was stronger than the thirst for vengeance.
Her eyes met his then, heavy with unshed tears and the weight of everything she had been through.
"After you fell, after I foolishly listened to my god, I hoped to get back to her."
Her voice trembled, the words laced with regret.
"She threatened to descend to end things herself if I did not comply."
Her gaze flickered, a mix of fear and resentment threading through her words.
"It was all a manipulation. She never intended to bring me back. She just wanted to get rid of you. A powerful mortal who had absorbed the essence of a dead god was a potential threat."
Arwik's gaze softened, though he said nothing. There was an understanding there, an understanding that didn't make the past disappear but made the future seem a little less bleak.
"After that, my power was stripped from me,"
She continued, her voice cracking as though even saying the words caused her pain.
"I was left to wander these streets. Stealing to survive."
Her voice trembled, and Arwik saw the years of hardship in her eyes—lost power, lost dignity, lost everything.
For a moment, Arwik's anger bubbled up, threatening to surface, but it quickly faded. He had carried that weight for so long.
He took a slow step forward, feeling the years of resentment press down on him like a physical burden.
"Even after everything, I thought I would never feel this way,"
He said, his voice low and strained.
"I wanted nothing more than to hate you, to hold onto that rage like it was the only thing I had left."
He shook his head, the weight of the years pulling at his words.
"But... I can't keep carrying that weight. Not anymore."
She didn't know what to say. Her eyes brimmed with tears, and she looked away, her breath shaky. She had never expected this.
"Maybe I don't know how to forgive you completely,"
He continued, his words thoughtful, almost distant.
"Maybe I never will."
She looked up at him, her heart pounding. This wasn't the reaction she had expected. Forgiveness?
"But I know one thing,"
Arwik's voice hardened, and his eyes met hers, a spark of determination flickering within them.
"I'm not leaving you behind again."
She opened her mouth to speak but fell silent, struck by the sincerity in his voice. She could hardly believe what she was hearing.
"I won't walk away from you now,"
He said, his voice firm, unwavering.
"We'll face whatever comes next together."
The words hung in the air between them, heavy with the weight of their shared history. The girl blinked, and for the first time in years, she found herself caught between fear and hope. It was a strange, terrifying thing—this possibility of a future she hadn't dared to dream of. But it was real now.
For the first time in a long while, she let herself believe it might be possible.