It was a cold familiarity she wore like armor.
They nodded curtly to Dario, acknowledging his authority despite his age, as the clang of metal sliced through the brisk night air, blending with the sounds of a few castle workers still toiling under the dim torches.
Dario’s role as captain had earned him respect among the ranks, his authority unquestioned despite being twenty-one. It was a sobering reminder of how differently their lives had been shaped. Like many from the west, his past was marked by hardship. His province, Bravell, had a history both proud and painful. It was the first and only region to defy Osin at the start of the war. The kingdom’s rebellion ended in ruin—Umzar, Bravell’s capital, obliterated. The destruction became a warning to all, a lesson written in the scars of its people and the haunted look in Dario’s eyes whenever the past whispered too loud.
As they moved toward the hitching post, laborers scurried like busy ants, their movements punctuated by the occasional whinny of a horse and the soft, rhythmic clopping of hooves against the night's stillness.
“Need some company to the citadel?” Dario asked, dismounting, and extending a hand to her. “I’ve got some time before my morning duties. If there's anything you need…” His voice trailed, the offer hanging in the air. He knew it was pointless. Even if she wanted his company, the Druids wouldn't let him get anywhere near her.
Elara glanced from his outstretched hand back to the looming citadel, a fortress of memories. Some cherished, and others she'd give anything to forget. “It's a stone's throw away, Dario. I think I can manage it.” She allowed him to help her down, but the instant her feet touched solid ground, she stepped back, eager to create space between herself and the waves of pity she sensed radiating from him.
He studied her face intently. “You look... pale.”
She arched a brow. “Paler than my usual ghostly shade, you mean?”
He didn’t laugh. Didn’t even crack a smile, and that—more than anything—told her just how much of a mess she must look. Dario never failed to smile. It was one of the things she cherished most about him. She sighed, her limbs feeling like lead and her soul hollowed out like an empty shell. She must look as bad as she felt. Maybe worse. And if that pitiful stare of his was any indication, she couldn’t really blame him.
Gods, she could sleep for a week. No—a month. Just curl up somewhere soft and let the darkness take her under. Let everything else fade away. But she knew what awaited her the moment she returned to the citadel. The Druids, ever meticulous, ever indifferent, would descend with their cleansing rituals. Concoctions of oils, litany of prayers—none of it would help.
“You would tell me if you weren't alright, wouldn't you?”
Elara shrugged. “I’m always alright.”
As if she had a choice.
It didn’t matter that every time she returned, another part of her soul seemed to shrivel and die. There was no escaping it, no outrunning her fate. All she could do was pretend it wasn’t real, live her life in the space between the summons as fully as she could. Because one day, she knew, they would call her,and she would never return.
He studied her for a lingering moment, skepticism faintly shadowing his nod. He gently captured a lock of her hair between his fingers, absentmindedly playing with it. “You look like you need a stiff drink, not the drivel from those moss-munching nut jobs.”
Elara's eyes narrowed, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Don’t. His ravens could be listening.”
Dario's lips pressed into a thin line, his jaw muscles tensing. He handed his mount over to a waiting stable hand, issuing sharp commands to the guards with an authority that seemed to flow from him effortlessly. They nodded in response, but his attention was already back on Elara.
“I’m escorting you. Don’t argue.”
She sighed but didn’t resist.
They passed through the bailey, entering the courtyard where the garden still thrived, defiantly lush under the moonlight despite the chilly nights leading up to the autumn equinox. Silence blanketed their journey to the citadel, heavy with all the things Dario didn’t ask and Elara couldn’t say.
Her gaze caught his jaw tightening once more, his eyes flicking to meet hers before darting away. Every line of his face strained with effort to hold back his questions.
Dario had always been able to read people—better than anyone she knew. Now, as his eyes settled on her, Elara could feel him absorbing the weight of her pain without a single word, without pressing for answers she wasn’t ready to give. His silence was a gift, one she hadn’t realized she needed until that moment, and she was grateful for it. Grateful for him.
She reached out, hesitating as her fingertips brushed his rough hand, causing him to stumble slightly. A flicker of surprise crossed his face before it quickly vanished, his hand gripping hers in a silent reassurance as they moved toward the citadel's grand oak doors.
A heavy pause settled within Elara as they walked up the stone steps. She wished she could stay there, holding Dario's hand a bit longer, but the Druids had other plans for her.
Elara took a deep breath and disentangled her fingers from his, preparing to confront whatever lay beyond those doors. But a sudden, firm grasp on her wrist halted her.
“I’ll be right here come dawn,” he promised, his eyes fervently blazing in the dim light.
A faint smile tugged at her lips. “The Druids will bar your entry before you even attempt to knock.”
“Let them try. I've never met a door I couldn't break through.”
“Dario,” she whispered, her voice a fragile thread weighted with unspoken emotions.
It had been three months since the last time she'd been summoned to Ulrith, and when she returned that night, something inside her had snapped. She had slipped into his barracks under the cover of darkness, her heart racing with a determination she couldn't quite explain. Every visit to that wretched place felt like a countdown, like the world was closing in on her, and time was running out. The fear of leaving this world untouched, unloved—it gnawed at her, hollowing her out until she could no longer ignore it.
