I study him, noting the familiar furrow in his brow. Even here, in this fleeting peace, I can sense the storm brewing within him—the same one we’ll soon face outside these walls. I want tooffer comfort, to say something that eases the burden on his shoulders, but words feel empty.
So I simply nod, knowing that nothing I say will change what’s coming.
I take one last look at the horizon before turning toward the courtyard, where our small group is preparing to leave Pariseth behind. Solena and Orios stand close, their heads bowed together in a quiet exchange of words and soft touches—a final kiss before reality pulls them apart. Their smiles hold a hint of sadness, but also a tender resolve, as if they’re trying to imprint the memory of this place on their hearts.
Arax steps forward and bows, his dark eyes steady but softer than usual.
“Your Highness,” he asks, “have you enjoyed your time here?”
I nod, feeling the weight of his question. “Yes, I have. More than I expected.”
A small, knowing smile touches his lips. “I’ve never seen the prince so content. It seems you’ve brought that out in him.”
I glance over at Daed, standing at the edge of the courtyard, his gaze lost in the direction of the storm wall we’ll soon cross. It’s true—he’s been different here, lighter, more at ease. A part of me is proud to have been a part of that change, but another part wonders if it will crumble when we return to Baev’kalath.
Solena and Orios begin to pull away from each other, their hands lingering as if reluctant to let go.
Arax watches them too, a faint nod almost to himself. “The Reaper’s oath is a hard one to keep,” he murmurs, his voice heavy with unspoken meaning. There’s an edge of confession in his words, a hint of struggle behind his unwavering loyalty. I don’t pry—duty, love, and loyalty often conflict in ways words can’t fix.
For a moment, I glimpse the cracks in Arax’s facade, the part of him that feels deeply, just like anyone else. It makes me wonder if, like Orios, he too has struggled to keep his oath. And maybe, at times, he hasn’t succeeded.
Before I can respond, he straightens, his expression shifting back to one of calm duty.
“We’re ready to leave,” he announces.
Daed strides over to me, his arms sweeping me into a strong yet hesitant embrace. He exhales, a sound that carries the weight of everything left unsaid. His lips part, as if he’s on the verge of speaking, but the words remain suspended between us—a fragile thread, taut and ready to snap. Instead, there’s only the rise and fall of his chest against mine, the silent promise of what might have been and what still waits beyond Pariseth’s fading peace.
Daed’s wings burst from his back, black feathers shimmering in the sun, casting long shadows over the grass. We rise into the sky, the beauty of Pariseth shrinking below, warmth and light fading into a fleeting memory.
Ahead looms the storm wall—a twisting mass of dark clouds and roaring winds, a boundary separating two worlds. The shift is instant and unforgiving as we break through. The sun’s warmth is snatched away, replaced by icy rain and howling winds that tear at us, pulling us deeper into the storm’s violent grasp. The air grows thick with cold and wet, and I cling to Daed, his wings straining against the turbulent gusts.
Arax flies beside us, Solena and Orios close behind, but the storm’s fury tries to rip us apart, relentless in its wrath. Rainlashes against my skin, cold and biting, and I bury my face against Daed’s chest, seeking shelter from the wind’s sharp edge.
For a heartbeat, I wonder if the storm is a warning—a reminder that Pariseth’s warmth was temporary, a brief escape from the darkness that waits beyond. I wonder if, like the sun, Daed’s affection will fade as we return to the harsh reality of Baev’kalath.
But then he looks down at me, and in his eyes, I see something new. It’s not a promise, but it’s real—raw. It’s enough to make me believe, even if just for a moment, that maybe he won’t let the storm take us.
Baev’kalath soon stretches below, a fortress of stone and shadow, rain pouring in relentless sheets. The warmth of the sun has been replaced by cold gray skies, sending a familiar chill down my spine.
Daed’s wings beat harder as we descend into the courtyard, where King Kaelus and Queen Lanneth stand waiting. The moment Daed touches the ground, his arms tighten around me briefly before releasing. His expression is unreadable, jaw set and eyes averted as he steps back, folding his wings and straightening.
Queen Lanneth’s face brightens when she sees me. Her cold, elegant features soften, and her hands flutter toward me uncertainly, as if unsure whether to embrace or hold back.
“Amara,” she says, her voice filled with a warmth that catches me off guard. “You’ve returned safely. Are you harmed in any way?”
Her concern always surprises me.
“I’m fine, Your Majesty,” I say, dipping my head slightly.
She studies me, her eyes sweeping over me as if to be sure for herself. “Good. But you are soaked to the bone. Let us get you to your chambers and into some dry clothes. I will not allow you to remain in such a state after that journey.”
“That’s not necessary,” I begin, but Lanneth raises a hand, silencing me with a single look.
“It is necessary,” she says firmly, her tone leaving no room for argument. “I will not take no for an answer.”
I glance toward Daed, hoping for some kind of rescue, but he’s already turned his back to me, talking quietly with Kaelus. With a sigh, I follow Lanneth into the castle, my reluctance clear with every step.
When we reach my chambers, Solena tries to follow, but Lanneth is quick to cut her off. “That will be all, girl. Leave us.”
