Here's the revised conversation:
As they stood on the battlements, the silence between them grew thicker, like a fog that refused to lift. Kaelith's eyes searched Cyrin's face, and he saw the pain there, the old wound that still lingered.
"Cyrin, I've been wanting to talk to you about Claude," Kaelith said, his voice low and gentle. "I know it was a long time ago, but I still remember the mission we were on, the last time we saw him."
Cyrin's face was a mask, but Kaelith saw the flicker of emotion in his eyes. "What about it?" Cyrin asked, his voice neutral.
Kaelith's eyes never left Cyrin's face. "We were ambushed by Corvus's men. You were injured, and I... I thought you were dead. And then Corvus... he was going to kill you, but I intervened. I gave him that burning scar, the one that's still on his face."
Cyrin's eyes narrowed, his gaze piercing. "Aye, the one that will never heal. I've seen it, Kaelith. I've seen the way it twists his face, the way it fuels his hatred for us."
Kaelith's expression was somber. "I know, Cyrin. I've seen it too. And I know that's why he's come for us, why he's brought his armies to our doorstep."
Cyrin's face was a mask, but Kaelith saw the anger there, the burning fury that fueled his every move. "Aye, he's come for revenge, and we'll give it to him. We'll give him a reckoning he'll never forget."
The two men stood there, the wind rustling their hair, the stars shining above. The silence between them was oppressive, heavy with unspoken words and unshed tears.
"You know, Cyrin, I've always wondered what happened to Claude," Kaelith said finally, his voice low and gentle. "I know I lied to Garrick, I told him I didn't see what happened to him. But I did, Cyrin. I saw something strange, something that I can't explain."
Cyrin's eyes locked onto Kaelith's face, his expression intent. "What did you see, Kaelith?"
Kaelith's gaze fell, his eyes staring out into the distance. "I saw Claude, but he wasn't himself. He was... he was being consumed by something, something dark. And then he was gone."
The silence between them was oppressive, heavy with unspoken words and unshed tears. Cyrin's face was a mask, but Kaelith saw the pain there, the grief that still lingered.
Cyrin's eyes narrowed, his gaze piercing as he asked, "Tell me everything, Kaelith. What happened after I blacked out?"
Kaelith took a deep breath, his eyes closing as he relived the memory. "I was lying there, trying to fight off the darkness, but it was too strong. I saw Claude and Corvus talking to each other, their voices hushed but their words liven with an intensity that made my skin crawl. I didn't understand what they were saying, but it seemed like... like they knew each other, Cyrin. Like they had some sort of understanding."
Cyrin's eyes were like daggers, his face set in a fierce scowl. "Go on," he growled.
Kaelith's eyes opened, his gaze locking onto Cyrin's face. "Corvus saw me, and his face twisted with rage. He raised his hand, and I knew I was done for. But then... then Garrick Blaze showed up, his sword flashing in the sunlight. He fought off Corvus's men, and then he turned to Corvus himself."
Cyrin's eyes were riveted on Kaelith's face, his breath banging in his chest.
"Garrick and Corvus clashed, their swords ringing out in the air. I was fading, Cyrin, I could feel it. But I saw Claude, standing there, watching the fight with an expression that... that I'll never forget. It was like he was torn, like he was being pulled in two different directions."
Cyrin's face was white, his eyes burning with an inner fire.
"And then, as I lost consciousness, I saw Claude vanish into the shadows. It was like he was sucked into the darkness itself, Cyrin. I tried to shout, to warn him, but it was too late. He was gone."
The silence between them was oppressive, heavy with the weight of unspoken words and unshed tears. Cyrin's face was a mask, but Kaelith saw the pain there, the grief that still lingered.
"Cyrin, I'm sorry," Kaelith said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I should have told you sooner, I should have-"un
The wind had fallen to a low sigh, and the night seemed to hold its breath as Cyrin's iron mask finally cracked. The stoic assassin who had spent years carling his emotions was suddenly a trembling boy who had lost his brother.
Cyrin's shoulders shook, his breath hitched, and a low, raw sob escaped his throat—a sound that seemed to pull the very night into itself. He dropped to his knees on the cold stone, hands curling into fists, his eyes burning with a mixture of grief, rage and disbelief.
Kaelith didn't hesitate. In a single, fluid motion he slipped down beside him, pulling Cyrin into a fierce, steady hug. He wrapped his arms around the assassin's shoulders, feeling the tremors run through Cyrin's body like a storm.
"Hey… hey, it's okay," Kaelith whispered, voice low but firm, as if his words could anchor Cyrin to the present. "Let it out. I've got you. No shadows here."
Cyrin clenched Kaelith's cloak, his fingers digging into the fabric as if trying to ground himself. The sobs grew louder, shaking his frame, each gasp a release of years of pent-up pain—Claude's vanishing, Corvus's scar, the weight of the endless night.
Kaelith held him tighter, his own breath steady, his chest a warm bulwark against Cyrin's turmoil. He didn't offer empty platitudes or false promises. Instead, he simply pressed his forehead against Cyrin's temple, letting the night wind brush over them both.
"It's not fair," Cyrin choked out, voice broken, "I should've… I should've saved him."
"You did what you could," Kaelith murmured. "We all did. Claude chose his path, and Corvus chose his darkness. You're not the one who carries that scar."
A shuddering sigh escaped Cyrin, his sobs slowly ebbing like tide receding. He leaned into Kaelith, allowing himself to be held—something he hadn't permitted in years.
Duke Harlen's eyes widened slightly as he took in the scene before him—Cyrin, the stoic assassin, sobbing uncontrollably in Kaelith's arms, the rogue knight's expression etched with a mix of concern and compassion. The duke's steps faltered, his hand instinctively going to the hilt of his sword, as if preparing for a threat.
But as he watched, he saw the raw emotion on Cyrin's face, the pain that had been locked away for so long, and his expression softened. He approached quietly, his boots making no sound on the stone floor.
Kaelith's eyes met the duke's, and he gave a slight nod, his expression saying more than words could.
Duke Harlen's face creased with understanding, and he nodded back, his eyes never leaving the two men. He approached slowly, his hands clasped behind his back, as if trying not to intrite on a private moment.
"Cyrin," he said softly, his voice low and gentle. "I'm here, friend. Whatever it is, we're here for you."
Cyrin's sobs slowed, and he looked up at the duke, his eyes red-rimmed and vulnerable. Duke Harlen's expression was etched with concern, and he reached out a hand, placing it on Cyrin's shoulder.
"We're family, Cyrin," he said, his voice full of warmth. "We stand together, no matter what."
The three men stood there, the only sound the wind rustling through the battlements, and the soft crackle of the flames below. The darkness seemed to recede, and for a moment, they were just three men, bound together by their shared pain and their shared purpose.