They made camp beneath the boughs of a dead tree, its limbs reaching toward the sky like skeletal fingers. The fire crackled between them, a low, restless sound in the vast quiet. Neither spoke, both too proud to be the first to break.
Evren sat with one leg stretched out, sharpening his blade with methodical strokes. The sound was steady, unyielding. His eyes flicked to Kaelion once, but the prince was gazing into the flames as if searching for auguries.
"You freeze up every time the magic flares," Evren finally said, the words cutting through the silence. "It's going to get you killed."
"I am still learning to control it," Kaelion replied, his voice low.
"Learn faster."
Kaelion's eyes narrowed, not at the insult, but at the hard truth buried within it.
"You think I am weak?"
"I think you've been protected for so long you've forgotten how to fight without being the strongest thing on the battlefield."
The words landed with the force of a physical blow.
Kaelion stood, pacing a short, tense line beside the fire. "You forget I have survived things you haven't even dreamed of."
Evren leaned back, tossing his blade into the dirt beside him. "Then stop acting like every bruise is a tragedy. You're not made of glass, Your Highness."
Kaelion stopped. His back was a rigid line of tension.
"If I were anyone else, would you speak to me like this?"
"If you were anyone else," Evren said, his gaze unwavering, "I wouldn't still be here."
Silence fell again. But it wasn't cold, not this time.
Kaelion sat back down across from him, his gaze intense. "You are not bound to me by choice. I understand that. But if we are to survive what comes next, you will have to learn to trust me."
Evren looked away, into the consuming darkness beyond their fire. "Trust isn't the problem."
"Then what is?"
Evren didn't answer, because even he didn't know.
The night dragged on, deep and star-dusted.
Evren couldn't sleep. He stared at the pinpricks of light peeking through the bare tree limbs, thinking about how far from home he felt even within the borders of his own kingdom.
Across the fire, Kaelion shifted. Awake too.
"You have scars," the prince said quietly, his voice stripped of its usual regal edge.
Evren didn't move. "So do you."
"Did they all come from war?"
Evren snorted softly. "Some came from war. Others just from living."
Kaelion sat up slowly, the firelight carving shadows across his face. "Tell me about one."
Evren turned his head, finally looking at him. "Why?"
"Because I need to understand the man I fight beside."
Evren hesitated, the old instinct to guard his past rising like a shield. Then, with a slow exhale, he pulled the collar of his shirt aside to reveal a faded, jagged line over his ribs. "Arrow. A boy, no older than twelve, shot me while I was helping what was left of his village. He thought I was one of the soldiers who had burned it."
Kaelion's eyes fixed on the mark. "And what did you do?"
"I let him run," Evren said, his voice flat. "Didn't blame him. He'd already lost too much."
Kaelion leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "Do you ever regret it?"
Evren's eyes met his, holding a universe of weary experience. "No. Regret is for people who can afford the luxury."
They sat in silence again, but it wasn't awkward.
It was understanding.
Kaelion broke it first. "I don't have many scars. Not on the outside."
Evren didn't ask for the story, but he listened.
And for now, that was enough.
Kaelion didn't move after the words left his mouth. I don't have many scars. Not on the outside.
He hadn't meant to say it aloud. But Evren didn't flinch, didn't press. He just let the words settle into the silence like ash falling over the embers.
"I wasn't supposed to be out there," Kaelion said after a long moment, his gaze lost in the fire. "Not on the front lines. I was trained for diplomacy. Politics. But when the capital was breached… everything changed."
Evren didn't respond. But Kaelion could feel the weight of his attention.
"I saw my tutor an old man, who could barely lift a sword cut down right in front of me. I froze. Couldn't move. Couldn't even scream."
A pause, thick with the memory.
"Then what?" Evren's voice was low, but steady.
Kaelion's lips curved in a bitter, phantom smile. "Then you showed up."
Evren blinked, taken aback.
"The day the palace gates fell. You don't remember, do you? You dragged me by the arm and threw me into an escape transport like I was a sack of grain."
Evren frowned, sifting through the chaotic memories of war. "I remember a brat with a crown who looked like he'd never seen real dirt," he muttered. "Didn't think he'd survive the night."
Kaelion huffed a quiet, humorless laugh. "Neither did I."
They both laughed just a faint exhalation, really.
It faded quickly, but something between them had shifted, a fragile, new thread, pulled taut.
"Why did you stay?" Kaelion asked.
Evren tilted his head. "Stay where?"
"By my side. Even when you profess to hate everything I represent."
Evren's eyes narrowed faintly. "I don't hate you."
"You act like you do."
"I act like a man who's seen too many princes promise peace and deliver only war."
Kaelion didn't argue.
Evren stood, brushing ash from his pants. "You don't need me to like you, Kaelion. You need me to keep you alive."
Kaelion looked up at him, the firelight catching in his golden eyes. "And if I wanted both?"
Evren didn't answer.
He turned, walking toward the edge of camp, leaving the question hanging in the cold night air a blade suspended, waiting to fall.
Evren sat with his back against a tree, fingers tapping a restless rhythm against the hilt of his blade. The cold had settled deep into his bones, but he didn't move. He wasn't ready to sleep. Not with Kaelion's question echoing in the vault of his mind.
And if I wanted both?
Damn prince. Always knew how to leave a wound without ever drawing a sword.
Across the camp, Kaelion had finally laid down, but he wasn't asleep either. His breathing was too careful, too measured. He was listening.
Evren closed his eyes anyway.
Tomorrow, they would reach the ridge overlooking the ruins of Eldrith Vale. The path would get harder. Colder, crueler.
But for now, there was only the quiet. The kind that comes before the storm.
Kaelion's voice cut through the dark, softer than before.
"Do you believe in fate?"
Evren opened his eyes. "Fate?"
"Yes. That we were meant to cross paths. All of this… us."
Evren let out a breath that was almost a scoff. "No. I believe in choices. People make messes. Not the stars."
Kaelion turned to face him, only the firelight defining the sharp planes of his expression.
"Then why didn't you leave when you had the chance? Back at the border. You could have disappeared."
Evren didn't answer immediately. The truth was a tangled, thorny thing.
Then, finally: "Because I'm not done yet."
Kaelion watched him, quiet, he didn't press further.
But Evren knew the question hanging behind Kaelion's eyes wasn't about the war.
It was about him.
The sun had barely kissed the horizon when they set out again.
Evren walked ahead, his cloak swaying with each determined step, the silence between them now thick with a new, unspoken tension. The woods grew denser, ancient trees twisting into a canopy that strangled the morning light. It was darker here, and colder, as if the forest itself was holding its breath.
Kaelion didn't complain.
For once, he didn't speak at all.
Not until they heard it -a soft,lilting laugh.
High-pitched. Musical. Entirely out of place.
They froze as one.
Evren's hand flew to his sword, Kaelion's eyes narrowing to slits as the laugh echoed again closer this time. A flicker of movement darted behind the thick, gnarled trees.
"Show yourself," Kaelion called out, his voice ringing with command.
A few heartbeats of tense silence passed.
Then, from the deep shadows, a boy stepped into a sliver of light.
He couldn't have been older than twelve. Small, with a delicate frame. His dark curls fell over his forehead, and his eyes sparkled with a mischief that seemed too ancient for his face. He wore clothes too light for the cold, and yet he didn't shiver.
"Don't worry," the boy said with a disarming grin. "I'm not here to stab you. Well… not yet, anyway."
Evren raised a skeptical eyebrow, his grip tightening on his weapon.
Kaelion, however, took a single step forward, his voice low but not unkind. "Who are you?"
The boy tilted his head, a bird-like gesture.
"Name's Lioran. I live around here. Well, not live more like… haunt. Depends on who you ask."
Evren didn't lower his blade.
Kaelion did.
"You're not afraid of us?" Kaelion asked.
Lioran laughed, a bright, clear sound. "Should I be? You're just two grumpy strangers with swords and serious faces. I've seen scarier birds."
That, against all odds, drew a faint smirk from Kaelion.
Evren didn't like this. Not one bit. The boy was too calm, too clever. But something in his presence felt… old. As if the forest itself had conspired to place him in their path.
Kaelion crouched slightly, bringing himself eye-level with the boy.
"What are you doing alone in these woods?"
Lioran shrugged, a fluid, effortless motion.
"Waiting."
"For what?"
A slow, knowing smile tugged at the boy's lips.
"You."