49 lines
No EOL
2.6 KiB
Markdown
49 lines
No EOL
2.6 KiB
Markdown
The fire had burned low. Only embers now—soft red hearts pulsing beneath a crust of blackened ash. Most of the Veyari had withdrawn to their shelters, leaving the hearth and its circle to quiet memory. Snow murmured lightly on the rooftops, the sound like the breathing of the mountain itself.
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Ryn remained seated near the fire, the stone fragment resting across her knees. She hadn’t moved in some time.
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Alisha watched her from a little distance—half-shadowed, hands wrapped around a clay cup of something warm and herbal. Her eyes never strayed far. She’d learned to read the space around Ryn, the tension in her jaw, the way silence hung off her shoulders like a too-heavy cloak.
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Eris and Sari had gone to prepare for the morning’s departure. Halven was inside, perhaps scribbling his feverish notes on clan signs and half-remembered maps. Only the two of them remained in the dying firelight.
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Alisha hesitated, then crossed to her. Sat down beside her—close enough to share warmth, but not enough to presume.
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“She was real,” Alisha said softly. “The queen. The sword. All of it.”
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Ryn didn’t answer at first. Her eyes were still fixed on the stone fragment.
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“I was raised to believe in symbols,” she said eventually. “But not truths. Not… blood that remembers.”
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Alisha’s voice dipped. “I stayed for you. Back in the palace.”
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That made Ryn glance sideways, a flicker of surprise in her gaze.
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“I told myself it was duty,” Alisha continued. “Loyalty to the line, to the throne. But that’s not what held me back. It was you. Not the crown. Not the cause. Just you.”
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Silence again. Not awkward—aching.
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Ryn looked back to the fire. Her voice, when it came, was low. “You shouldn’t have.”
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Alisha smiled sadly. “I know.”
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She reached out, fingers brushing Ryn’s hand. Ryn didn’t pull away. For a moment, they sat like that—hands joined over ancient stone, surrounded by a world that had long stopped caring for softness.
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Then Ryn spoke. “I don’t know what I’ll become.”
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“I’m not asking for promises,” Alisha said. “Just… don’t forget who you were. Even if the sword remembers something else.”
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A gust of wind swept across the shrine. The last embers hissed faintly.
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Alisha leaned in, gently rested her forehead to Ryn’s temple. No kiss. Just presence. Just warmth.
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And Ryn, for a heartbeat, leaned back.
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Then it passed.
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She rose, taking the fragment with her, and stepped into the night.
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Alisha watched her go, alone with the fire's dying glow.
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And to the ash that still lingered in the air, she whispered:
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“I’d follow you even if I had to be the last to remember your name.” |