The days following the Great War were a blur of motion.
The world was not as she remembered it. Time itself seemed to stretch and shrink in equal measure, as though the universe itself was still reeling from the destruction of the old order. The survivors of the Reclaimed Order, the Celestial Guard, and the scattered tribes that had once aligned with the Wraithlords now stood at the crossroads of something new—a new era, born from the ashes of the old.
Rhea had never imagined peace could feel so heavy.
She sat in a simple chamber—bare, save for the wooden desk in front of her, the only furniture she could stomach. Around her, the sound of distant voices floated in the air, hushed and tentative, as though the world was still holding its breath.
Kael stood near the window, his gaze distant, yet resolute. He hadn't left her side since the battle had ended. In many ways, he was the anchor she had never known she needed. But even Kael seemed to be grappling with something deeper, something unspoken.
"What are we supposed to do now?" Rhea's voice was barely above a whisper. The question wasn't just for Kael—it was for herself as well. There were no maps left to follow. No older texts to guide her in rebuilding the world. Only broken pieces.
Kael turned his head slightly, his eyes meeting hers. "We rebuild, Rhea. We create something new from this. A world where people don't have to fight for survival every day."
His words were idealistic, she thought. She had always been the idealist, the dreamer. Now, as she stood in the ruins of the world she had saved, her dreams felt like a weight she could no longer carry.
"You speak of peace as if it's something tangible," she said bitterly. "How do you rebuild peace when the very idea of it has been shattered for so long?"
Kael crossed the room and stood beside her, his presence warm and comforting, even if his words did little to erase the weight on her heart. "You don't rebuild it in a day, or even a year. Peace is a slow, fragile thing. But it starts with us. With people like you."
She felt the sting of his words more than she let on. He was right, of course. It was a burden that had fallen to her. The world was broken, and she was the one who had to put it back together. The thought of it was overwhelming. Could she, one person, truly change the world?
A sharp knock at the door broke the silence between them.
Rhea turned toward the door, her hand instinctively brushing over the cold surface of the desk. Kael nodded to her before opening the door. Standing in the doorway was a messenger—a young man, no older than sixteen, dressed in the tattered remnants of soldier's armor. His face was pale, eyes wide with urgency.
"Lady Rhea," he said, bowing low. "The council is waiting. They need your guidance."
Rhea stood, her legs unsteady beneath her. She had already sensed that this moment would come. The survivors, the broken factions, they needed someone to lead them. But as she followed the messenger through the corridors of the rebuilding stronghold, she felt more like a puppet than a leader.
The council chamber was large, its stone walls etched with faded carvings that had once held significance, but now only reminded her of a history that no longer mattered. The room was filled with representatives from all the factions—the remaining generals of the Celestial Guard, the leaders of the rebel tribes, and those few survivors of the old kingdoms who had come from far and wide.
They all rose as she entered, their faces a mix of respect and expectation. Each person here had lost someone—many had lost everything. Their gazes were not accusing, but they were filled with a hope that made her heart ache.
Rhea took a seat at the head of the table, Kael beside her, his quiet presence a reminder that she was not alone in this.
The silence was thick, uncomfortable, as everyone waited for her to speak.
"What are we to do now?" one of the generals, a weathered man with a deep scar running down his cheek, asked. His voice was rough, but it carried the weight of someone who had seen too much war. "The Wraithlords are gone. But their legacy, the memories of what they did… How do we ensure it never returns?"
Rhea's mind raced. The legacy of the Wraithlords was far more than just the battles they had fought or the damage they had caused. It was a sickness that had spread through generations—a disease of power and control that had twisted minds and broken hearts. How could she prevent such a thing from happening again? And, more importantly, who would be the ones to uphold this new world?
"We will rewrite the history of the Wraithlords," she said, her voice growing stronger with each word. "We will teach our children what they did, but we will not glorify it. We will build a future where there is no room for tyranny or fear. We will teach them what it means to fight for freedom, to fight for peace."
The council murmured in agreement, but there was no clear path forward. The brokenness of their world was still too fresh.
A woman, one of the rebel leaders, stood up. She was tall, with dark hair streaked with gray, and her clothes were marked with the symbols of an old, fallen kingdom. "And what of the land itself?" she asked. "The corruption runs deep in some of these places. Entire villages were destroyed in the wake of the war. We have no resources. No farms. No infrastructure."
"We'll rebuild it," Kael interjected, his voice calm but forceful. "It will take time, but the resources we have now—our people, our resolve—we'll make it work. But we need to ensure that those who come to power after us won't repeat the mistakes of the past."
"And what of you, Lady Rhea?" another voice called, one of the surviving mages. "You are the one who led us through this. You erased the Wraithlords. You've made a mark on history. What will your place be in this new world?"
The question made her heart skip a beat. She hadn't truly thought about her own role. Was she meant to be the leader of this new age? Or was she simply a catalyst for change, someone who had burned herself out saving the world and was now left to watch it rebuild itself?
"I..." Rhea began, her voice trembling. "I will do whatever is necessary. But I will not rule. I am not the one to decide this world's fate. We all must share that burden."
It was the truth, even if it didn't sit well with her. She had given everything—her life, her essence, her memories—to ensure the survival of the world. Now, it was time for others to take the reins.
Kael placed a hand on her arm, giving her a silent reassurance. She knew the road ahead would not be easy, and the weight of what lay before them would be a long and difficult climb. But for the first time in days, she felt like there was hope again.
The council began to debate, voices rising and falling in earnest discussion. But as Rhea looked around the room, she realized something. The future wasn't in her hands anymore. The world wasn't hers to save alone.
This time, they would save it together.