Chapter 37: Embers in the Dark

  The fire crackled, sending up embers that danced against the night sky. Kael sat with his back against a log, his crossbow resting within arm’s reach. Around him, the soldiers lounged in makeshift seats—some on overturned helmets, others on bundles of supplies. Their laughter and conversation filled the air, a fragile defiance against the weight of the battle behind them.

  Titanis lay curled beside him, his copper-scaled body reflecting the firelight in strange patterns, the faint hum of his mechanical components barely audible over the crackling wood. The dragon’s golden eyes flicked between the faces around them, as if memorizing each voice.

  Across the fire, Alric leaned forward, smirking. “So, Kael, looks like you’re not the only dragon rider anymore.”

  Kael arched a brow, but before he could respond, Lyanna groaned, rubbing her temples. “Oh, for the love of—don’t start with that.”

  The smirk widened. “I’m just saying, it’s no longer just Kael with a fancy little lizard.”

  Lyanna shot him a withering glare. “She’s not a lizard. And I swear, if you keep calling her that, she might bite you in your sleep.”

  “That would be unfortunate.” Alric grinned, taking a sip from his flask. “For her, I mean. I taste terrible.”

  The group chuckled, and even Kael found himself fighting a smirk. It was a weak attempt at normalcy, but they needed it. They needed something—anything—to remind them they were still human after what they’d seen today.

  “Does your dragon have a name yet?” one of the soldiers, a grizzled man named Soren, asked.

  Lyanna hesitated before answering, her fingers idly tracing the rim of her cup. “Aeris.”

  The name hung in the air for a moment, and then someone murmured, “Good name.”

  Kael exhaled, feeling an odd relief at that. Lyanna might not have planned to bond with a dragon, but the way her hand rested on her knee—close enough to where Aeris had curled up earlier—told him she had already accepted it.

  Soren nodded at Titanis. “So, what do you think? Will her dragon be as strange as yours?”

  Kael gave a dry chuckle, running a hand over Titanis’s copper scales. The hatchling rumbled softly at the touch, half-asleep but still listening.

  “Doubt it,” he muttered.

  “I still say he’s some god’s experiment gone wrong,” another soldier, Dain, chimed in. “Half dragon, half machine. Maybe someone tried to mix magic and metal and got… that.” He gestured vaguely at Titanis.

  Titanis cracked open an eye, fixing him with an unimpressed stare before promptly rolling over and turning his back on him.

  The group laughed, but beneath it, there was something else—a weight pressing at the edges of the conversation.

  A silence settled for a moment, stretching too long.

  They had all lost someone today.

  Kate’s absence felt like a missing limb. Kael kept expecting her to toss in a sarcastic remark, to roll her eyes at their bickering, but the space where she should have been remained empty.

  No one said her name. Not yet.

  Instead, Soren exhaled and reached for his flask, tipping it slightly. “To the ones who didn’t make it.”

  A quiet murmur of agreement passed through them as they raised their drinks. Kael didn’t have one, but he nodded all the same.

  They drank. The fire crackled. Someone shifted their armor.

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  And then, because silence was a dangerous thing, someone decided to break it.

  “So, Kael,” Dain said, leaning forward with a grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You’re the youngest here. You got a sweetheart waiting for you somewhere?”

  Kael snorted, shaking his head. “Not a chance.”

  “Oh, come on,” Lyanna teased. “Not even a childhood crush?”

  Kael huffed. “My family wasn’t exactly well-liked in town.” He scratched at a scar on his knuckle, glancing at the fire. “And even if they were, I spent more time buried in books than outside talking to people.”

  “Books, huh?” Soren smirked. “Trying to be some great scholar?”

  Kael’s mouth twisted into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “Trying to get into the Academy.”

  A few of the soldiers exchanged glances. Everyone here knew how that dream had ended.

  “Well,” Alric said, raising his cup, “Academy or not, you got something better now.”

  Kael glanced at Titanis, who let out a soft, contented chirp in his sleep.

  “Maybe,” he murmured.

  Lyanna leaned back, arms crossed. “You never thought about it, though? What you’d want if things had gone differently?”

  Kael considered that. What would he have wanted?

  A normal life? A quiet one?

  Maybe, once.

  But now, with Titanis curled beside him, with battle fresh in his bones and firelight reflecting off the faces of the people he fought beside…

  He wasn’t sure anymore.

  “Doesn’t matter,” he finally said. “This is where I ended up.”

  Dain scoffed, nudging him with his boot. “That’s a shit answer.”

  Kael smirked. “It’s the only one you’re getting.”

  Laughter rippled through the camp, quieter this time, but real. The tension didn’t leave completely, but for now, at least, they let themselves breathe.

  Alric shifted with a wince, rolling his shoulder as he settled onto the log by the fire. The wound on his side had been treated, but the lingering stiffness made itself known in every movement. His face, usually carrying an easy smirk, was drawn with exhaustion. But still, he was here, and for now, that was enough.

  “You look like you got kicked by a warhorse,” one of the soldiers—Derrin, Kael thought his name was—quipped, tearing a chunk of bread with his teeth.

  “Feels like it too,” Alric muttered, rubbing his ribs. “Only difference is, a warhorse would have had the decency to leave me in one piece.”

  Laughter rippled through the group, the kind that carried a familiar, weary edge. The kind meant to push back the weight of the dead and the war still ahead of them.

  Derrin grinned. “We were just asking Kael about his lack of a sweetheart. Thought we’d put the same question to you.”

  Alric, ever the showman, ran a hand through his dark hair, tossing a glance around the fire as if considering how best to weave his tale. “Ah, now that is a story.”

  Kael smirked. “Everything with you is a story.”

  “Damn right it is,” Alric said with a wink before leaning back. “There was a time when half the girls in the city swooned at my feet. Lords and ladies alike would whisper my name, and even a few bards took to spinning songs about my charm and swordsmanship.”

  “Songs?” Lyanna snorted. “What happened? Did the audiences demand refunds?”

  Another round of laughter. Alric clutched his chest dramatically. “Lyanna, I’m wounded enough as it is! Must you strike my pride too?”

  “If your pride could take wounds, you’d have died years ago,” she quipped.

  Alric grinned, but the lightness in his expression dimmed ever so slightly. His fingers drummed against his knee as he continued, quieter now. “But there was one. A girl. The only one that mattered. I met her when I was sixteen.”

  Alric’s gaze turned inward, as if seeing something far away. “She was... stubborn, sharp-tongued, but kinder than anyone I’d ever known. She saw me, not the heir to a noble house, not some future commander, just me.”

  For a moment, he let himself sit with the memory. The fire crackled, filling the silence. Then, just as the warmth of nostalgia settled, his jaw tightened, and his tone grew bitter.

  “When my father died, everything changed. My so-called family, the noble house that was supposed to stand by me, turned like a pack of vultures. She—” He exhaled, shaking his head. “She made her choice. She and the rest of them saw me as nothing but an obstacle. They’re still fighting over the estate, trying to claim ownership of what’s rightfully mine.”

  Derrin frowned. “And what of your family’s patron? The ancient dragon that founded your house?”

  Alric gave a dry chuckle. “Content to watch. They say dragons value strength above all else, and if I can’t hold onto what’s mine, then I don’t deserve it.” He shook his head, eyes shadowed. “So I suppose I’ll have to prove them wrong.”

  The fire flickered between them, the weight of his words settling over the group. No one spoke for a long moment.

  Then, Derrin, ever one to lighten the mood, turned to Lyanna. “And you, Lady Lyanna? You got some tragic tale of lost love too?”

  Lyanna, who had been silent throughout Alric’s story, merely shook her head. “No,” she said simply, staring into the fire.

  “Nothing? No childhood sweetheart? No doomed romance?” Alric pressed, trying to inject some levity back into the conversation.

  She met his gaze, her expression unreadable. “No,” she repeated.

  And that was the end of it.

  The group lapsed into a comfortable quiet, the crackling flames and the distant sound of wind filling the space where conversation had been. The battle had taken much from them, and the road ahead promised to take more. Tomorrow, they would be moving again, cutting a path through the ruins of once-thriving towns and cities, clearing out the horrors that had taken root in the wake of the Beast Tide.

  But for now, just for tonight, they sat by the fire, letting its warmth hold back the darkness for a little while longer.