Chapter 101 – Questions in the Dark
The forest was quieter now, though the faint glow of the human army's campfires still burned far behind them. Lyria and Varik moved swiftly through the underbrush, their boots pressing softly into damp soil, but neither spoke at first. Only the sounds of night—the distant hoot of an owl, the rustle of leaves stirred by spring winds—filled the silence.
But Varik was not a man to let silence linger for long.
"Tell me, elf," he began, his voice low, calm, but sharp as a blade probing for weakness. "Why does Kael do this? Why does he take on the weight of so many, when his power alone could keep him safe?"
Lyria's jaw tightened, though her stride never faltered. "Because he has to. Because no one else could."
Varik tilted his head, blue hair catching a thread of moonlight. "No. That's what the council says. I want your answer. You have walked with him longer than any of us. You've seen what drives him. What is it? Guilt? Duty? Ambition?"
Lyria's lips pressed thin. She thought of Kael's haunted eyes when he spoke of the world that rejected him, of his laughter with Druaka, of the warmth he showed her when no one else was watching. "It's none of those. Or maybe all of them. He carries scars—ones deeper than any blade could leave. But he doesn't use them as chains. He uses them as fuel."
Varik hummed, as if filing her words away. Then, after a pause, his eyes narrowed. "And you? Why stay by his side? Surely you could lead a people of your own. An elf of your skill and beauty would be cherished anywhere. Yet you bend yourself around him, share him with another, risk your life at his command. Why?"
Lyria slowed her steps just enough to glance at him, eyes like shards of moonlit steel. "Because I choose to. Because he is worth it. And because in him, I see not just the leader of a people, but the man I would walk beside no matter the cost."
Varik's expression flickered—perhaps surprise, perhaps something softer—but it was gone in an instant, replaced by the cold mask he wore so well. "Strange," he muttered. "Strange that two women would tie themselves to one man. Stranger still that the man is one who carries so much darkness."
Lyria's breath hitched, but she steadied herself. "You think you understand Kael's darkness, but you don't. It isn't cruelty. It isn't selfishness. It's survival. And in survival, there's love too. Love for those who walk with him. Love for Druaka. Love for me. He doesn't always say it, but it's there."
For the first time, Varik said nothing. His cold eyes studied her, searching for cracks, but she did not falter.
The two pressed on until the glow of torches flickered ahead—the Hollow's walls rising strong and proud in the night.
The council chamber was lit with firelight when they entered. Rogan was already there, his red hair wild, arms folded across his massive chest. Fenrik leaned against the wall, grim-faced, while Thalos rumbled low in his throat. Kael sat at the head of the long table, helm set aside, dark eyes waiting.
Varik bowed his head faintly, then launched into his report with a clarity that chilled the room. He spoke of the vastness of the army, the golden banners of the lion crest, the siege engines lined in rows, the strategies implied by their formation. He detailed how he and Lyria had sabotaged the supplies, poisoned water, cut ropes, sown chaos. He spoke of their commander's arrogance, of the confidence dripping from every order shouted across the camp.
The council listened in silence, the weight of the words pressing down like a storm.
When Varik finished, Kael's gaze swept across the table. He nodded once. "Good work. You've bought us time." His voice was steady, but there was no triumph in it.
The council muttered, each member already turning to arguments about defenses, about strategy, about whether the Hollow could truly withstand what was coming. Kael listened, but only with half an ear.
When the meeting finally broke, he stood without a word and left the chamber.
The night air hit him like a wave—cool, sharp, laced with the smell of pine and damp earth. He walked through the Hollow in silence, past the half-finished buildings, past the glow of hearths where families laughed, past the guards patrolling with pride in their eyes.
Umbra slinked beside him, the beast's fur brushing his hand, but Kael hardly noticed.
He stopped at the edge of the town, where the trees whispered with the coming wind. He took a long breath and let it out slowly.
The truth was heavy. Varik's words echoed in his mind, sharper than the report itself. Guilt, duty, ambition. Which was it? Why did he carry all of this? Why did he hold the Hollow on his shoulders as if it were his burden alone?
He thought of Druaka's laughter, fierce and wild. Of Lyria's calm strength, her steady eyes. Of Rogan and Varik, broken and scarred but still standing. Of the people who now called this place home.
The world had cast him out, branded him monster. And yet here, somehow, he had built a haven. A nation. A family.
Still, the weight pressed deeper. He clenched his fists, staring into the dark woods beyond.
If I fall… what becomes of them?
Umbra growled softly, as if sensing his turmoil.
Kael closed his eyes, the burden gnawing at him like a beast in his chest. For a moment, he wished he could throw it all aside, vanish into the forest, live only for himself.
But then he remembered the eyes of those who looked to him for guidance, for protection. Druaka's, full of fire. Lyria's, full of quiet faith.
He sighed, the sound heavy and raw, and whispered into the night:
"I don't know how much more of this I can carry."
The forest gave no answer.