He walked through the rubble of the Mar district, disbelieving, guilt flaying open a heart that should have beat with apathy. In the ruins of the temple, he knelt in the place where that little girl had made her home. Ruined pieces of her dress remained, burned and singed. And beneath, a single pair of emerald teardrop earrings lay askew.
And so, he took his sin from that pile of ash and wore it hence.
To ensure that he never would forget.
What it meant to fail.
What it meant to hold someone in his hands.
What it meant to listen.
Just as he now listened to his beloved’s shallow breath.
Rows of beds stood on the edge of this internal chamber. He laid Auryn there. The Resh’Agar faded from his skin in rippling waves, the fire dimming in his eyes. He let out a breath of azure steam, as though his body was freezing in the power’s absence. Then, as he shed the monster’s skin, he knelt beside her as Kailorien.
He removed his armor.
His gauntlets.
Even his blade.
“Auryn,” he whispered, brushing her blood-matted hair from her brow. “Please. Come back to me.”
Time drifted. He didn’t know how long he sat beside her—only that the light outside had begun to fade, replaced with the amber shimmer of Polis veins just beneath the temple’s fractured floor. The air was thick with dust and the scent of crushed stone. And suddenly, as night fell, Auryn’s skin glowed.
It started at her shattered shoulder. A slow pulse of starlight beneath the muscle and cracked bone. The mangled flesh—twisted, torn—knit back together, one fiber at a time, as if guided by invisible threads. Hersilver blood shimmered, catching in the glow. It curled in place, drawn back into her veins as if summoned home.
He exhaled in awe.
But awe wasn’t enough.
Because she still hadn’t stirred.
“Auryn,” he said, brushing the back of his fingers along her cheek. “You’re healing. That’s good. That’s something.”
Her broken arm jerked as the bone shifted, realigned with a quiet snap. Kailorien winced on her behalf and placed a hand over the limb, murmuring a grounding word from one of the old tongues. A veil of blue mana sank from his palm to her skin, cooling the final swell of inflammation.
She didn’t flinch.
Didn’t sigh.
Didn’t cry out.
“Starlight,” he breathed, the word catching.
He kissed the knuckles of her right hand. The same hand she always used to steady her aim with her bow. It was warm.
“You survived it,” he whispered. “You walked the Path of Fire. You bore their weight.”
His voice broke.
“I should’ve been there.”
Not up on a balcony. Not watching.Beside her.
Kailorien bowed his head.
He let silence settle, his breath slowing until it matched hers.
