“Your mother is human?”
Amerei tucked a loose strand.
“She was a half-elf. She and my father, both halflings—in a time when it wasn’t customary. Neither of them knew where they belonged—until they found each other.”
The thought struck them both at once.
They smiled.
For a breath, Viktor forgot the mud on his shoes, the ache in his spine, the taste of fear still clinging to morning. She understood. Not just duty or loss—but what it meant to be half of something. To be caught between worlds.
It settled over him like warmth—unexpected, quietly disarming. He’d spent days breathing ash and silence. Now even her voice felt like proof that the world could still make something gentle.
Then Amerei glanced at Evander, who lay with his arm over his eyes, pretending to sleep. She shook her head, looked back at Viktor. Her voice was quieter now, thoughtful.
“You must be so tired. My father sent you alone? Are your men still at Sevrak?”
She hesitated.
“Forgive me—but you wear the armor of a…”
“A scout,” Viktor said, a low laugh rumbling in his chest.
He bent one leg, resting an arm across his knee.
“My men are in Aerdania. I run when I’m needed.”
Amerei pulled her knees to her chest.
“Couldn’t one of your men run instead?”
Viktor exhaled.
“At first, I volunteered because I could deliver a message faster than waiting on a scout.”
He slid a hand behind his neck, shrugging faintly.
“But simple messages turned into missions. Missions turned important… and usually dangerous.”
Amerei studied him for a long moment.
Beneath the dirt and exhaustion, beneath the armor and command, she saw something softer. Steady. A gentle soul looked back at her—his black locks falling across one brow, his eyes impossibly blue, reflecting the stream like moving glass. Wild, and yet somehow still held.
She wondered if anyone else had ever really seen him.
The stream murmured between them, light glinting over its rippled surface like spilled silver. Somewhere beyond the trees, a hawk cried, and the sound made the world feel suddenly too quiet.
Then, softly, as if the words had chosen her:
“I think what you do is noble, Captain Seraphim.”
Viktor breathed in slowly, almost like he didn’t trust his voice.
That’s it,he decided.I’m in love.
She started to say more—but thought better of it. Instead, she leaned over and nudged Evander.
He groaned, stretching his arms wide like a man rising from the grave.
