The morning mist was gentle, curling like pale smoke through the forest as dawn stretched long fingers of light between the trees. A soft breeze stirred the leaves, carrying the scent of moss and damp earth as the river sang its quiet, patient song nearby.
They had found a clearing beside the river, a place where the moss grew thick and soft, and sunlight caught on the water in tiny, dancing sparks. It was the kind of place that felt untouched by the world's suffering, if only for a breath.
For the first time in weeks, they decided to stop.
Liora was the first to break the hush. She ran barefoot across the moss, her laughter ringing out as she splashed into the shallows, skirts hiked to her knees, hair glinting silver in the sun. She kicked at the water, sending droplets flashing, the bell at her waist chiming softly each time she moved.
Mira knelt by the riverbank, gathering water in her palms to splash her face, sighing as the cold bit her skin awake. She moved carefully, washing herbs in the shallows, fingers gently stripping wilted leaves, her shawl glinting with dew. Her humming wove through the air, soft and low, the same tune she had sung to Liora when nightmares came.
Evin sat near the tree line, whetstone in hand as he ran it along the length of his blade, the scrape and hiss steady and calm. His gaze lifted now and then, watching Liora with the ghost of a smile, eyes softening each time she called out for them to look at a stone, a fish, a dragonfly that danced across the water.
And Aeris… Aeris sat on a flat rock at the river's edge, boots off, robes hiked to his calves as cold water lapped at his feet. His journal rested on his knees, the pages fluttering in the breeze as he dipped his pen, letting words spill out slowly in thin, looping lines.
Day 198.
The world is still alive today. The river laughs softly, and the trees seem less afraid. Liora's laughter feels like the dawn, Mira's humming like the warmth of tea on a cold morning, and Evin's steady presence like a hearth that will never burn out.
I wish I could stop time here.
The ember within him flickered, a small, warm pulse beneath his ribs that sometimes turned sharp and cold, like a spark caught in a breath of frost. Aeris paused, pressing a hand to his chest, waiting for the pain to ease before he returned to his writing.
I can feel it, even now, wanting more. Reaching, waiting. I can't let them see it. Not yet. They deserve this peace.
"Whatcha writing?" Liora's small voice broke his thoughts, her shadow falling across the page as she peered down with wide, storm-grey eyes.
"Your songs, little one," Aeris said with a gentle smile, turning the page to where her "fish song" was carefully written, each letter precise.
Liora giggled, sitting beside him on the rock, legs kicking into the water, droplets sparkling around them. "Did you get the part about the fish dreams?"
Aeris tapped the page. "Every word."
She leaned against his arm, humming the song softly, her voice blending with the river's lullaby.
"Little river, carry dreams,
Little fish, bright as moonbeams,
Water laughs, the world still sings,
In the dawn, the ember brings."
She glanced up, her small fingers brushing his sleeve. "Your ember is the dawn, right?"
Aeris blinked, startled by the innocence in her question, the truth hidden within her words. He opened his mouth, then closed it, forcing a smile. "Maybe it is."
She grinned, satisfied, before running off again to splash at Mira, laughter echoing across the water.
They spent the day tending to small things.
Mira boiled herbs in a small clay pot, letting steam rise in fragrant curls as she made tea that smelled of mint and rosemary. She pressed a warm cup into Aeris's hands, her dark eyes searching his pale face with quiet worry.
"Drink," she said softly.
"I'm fine," Aeris tried, but Mira only raised an eyebrow, folding her arms.
"You're not fine," she replied, matter-of-fact, the way she always did when she saw through him. "You're tired, and your breath is too thin in the mornings."
Aeris hesitated, then took a sip, letting the warmth ease the ache in his chest. "Thank you," he whispered.
Mira's expression softened. "You'd tell me if it was getting worse?"
Aeris glanced at the river, at Liora's laughter, at Evin's quiet watchfulness, at the soft green leaves overhead. He closed his eyes for a moment before nodding. "Of course."
It was a lie, and they both knew it, but Mira didn't push. Instead, she reached out, squeezing his hand once before returning to her work, adding another handful of herbs to the boiling water.
As the afternoon stretched into gold, Evin set aside his blade and walked to the water's edge. He rolled up his trousers, stepping into the shallows, ripples spreading around his legs as he tilted his face to the sky.
Liora splashed him immediately, giggling as water hit his chest, the girl's laughter a clear bell in the forest hush. Evin lifted a single eyebrow, deadpan, before splashing her back, water flashing like quicksilver between them.
Mira chuckled softly, shaking her head as she sorted her pouches, cleaning and counting each dried herb, each crystal bead she used in her charms.
Aeris watched them from his rock, pen paused above the page, the ember within him warm and restless, pulsing in time with the laughter, the hush, the sighing wind. He pressed his hand to his chest again, breathing slowly, quietly.
Don't take this from them, he whispered to the ember.
It flickered in response, like a small, uncertain flame in the dark.
That evening, they built a small fire by the riverbank. Liora sat close to Aeris, her head resting on his shoulder as she hummed, half-asleep. Mira stirred a pot of soup, the scent of herbs and wild onions filling the air, while Evin sharpened a smaller blade, the rhythmic scrape steady as a heartbeat.
They ate together, sharing warm bread and broth, Liora's feet swinging as she perched on a log, Mira's laughter soft as Evin told a rare story of his first patrol, young and too eager, tripping over his own boots.
Aeris laughed, though the sound was quiet, soft. He glanced at the stars as they began to appear, each one a pinprick of silver in the deepening blue.
"Tell us one of your stories," Liora urged, nudging Aeris's arm. "About the ember."
Aeris blinked, surprised. "What kind of story?"
"Happy," Liora said firmly.
He thought for a moment, then nodded, closing his eyes briefly to gather the ember's memory.
"There was a night," he began, "when I was learning to control the flame, long before the Blight came. I couldn't make it listen. It was wild, burning everything I touched. But there was a small fox, hurt, hiding under the shrine. I tried to heal it, but the ember flared and caught the dry grass around us."
Liora's eyes widened. "What happened?"
Aeris smiled faintly. "The fox bit me, and the ember calmed. It didn't want to hurt the fox, so it listened. It learned to be gentle that night."
Liora giggled. "The fox taught you!"
"I suppose it did," Aeris replied softly, looking into the fire. "Sometimes the small things teach us the most."
That night, after the fire was banked and Liora was curled under Mira's shawl, fast asleep, Aeris sat alone by the river. The moonlight turned the water silver, each ripple a glint of light on the dark current.
He pulled his journal into his lap, opening it to a blank page.
If I do not wake tomorrow, he wrote, know that I chose this. Every breath spent to keep you safe was worth it.
I can feel the ember growing restless, and I am afraid. Not of dying, but of leaving you alone. But I believe in you, in all of you. If I am to fade, let it be in the dawn, when the world is quiet and the birds begin to sing again.
Let it be in peace.
He paused, pressing a hand to his chest as the ember pulsed sharply, like a reminder of what was to come. He closed the journal carefully, sliding it back into his satchel, hidden beneath herbs and folded scraps of cloth.
A gust of wind moved through the trees, rustling the leaves like quiet voices.
Aeris lifted his face, letting the wind move through his hair, closing his eyes.
"Not yet," he whispered.
The ember pulsed, softening, holding steady in the darkness.
At dawn, the world felt clean, washed in pale gold as the river mist rose. Birds sang, the first notes of morning weaving through the forest as Liora's bell chimed softly when she woke, stretching and yawning, hair wild around her face.
Mira was already up, brewing tea, her hair braided back, eyes watchful and calm.
Evin stood at the edge of the clearing, sword across his back, eyes scanning the trees, every breath steady, ready.
Aeris woke to the warmth of the dawn on his face, the ember within him steady, quiet for now. He sat up, drawing in the morning air, letting it fill his lungs, letting it remind him that he was still here.
And for this moment, that was enough.
They would move soon, the road ahead calling them toward the last rift, toward the final darkness they would have to face.
But here, for one dawn, they were only themselves.
Together.