Chapter 112 – In the Quiet of Ashes
The Hollow slept under a blanket of silence. Torches guttered low in the streets, their smoke curling into the dark, and the watchtowers held their steady rhythm of flame like distant stars. The people had returned to their routines, but the weight of the last battle lingered over every wall and roof.
Kael sat in his chamber, unable to join them in sleep. His elbows rested on his knees, his hands clasped so tightly that his knuckles blanched white. He had tried to close his eyes, but every time he did, the memory came back: Druaka falling, her body striking the blood-soaked ground, her lips forming those words don't blame him before the light left her eyes.
His chest tightened, and he stood abruptly, pacing the length of the room. The wooden floor creaked beneath his boots, and he felt like a caged beast. He could command armies, stand against kingdoms, even destroy them — yet in this small room, he was powerless.
The door opened with a soft sound, breaking him from the spiral.
Lyria stood there, a single candle in her hand. The flame painted her features in amber light — her pale skin, her silver hair loose and flowing, her eyes carrying both exhaustion and determination. She wasn't armored tonight. She wasn't the advisor or the council member. She was simply Lyria.
"You're awake," she whispered, as if she'd known he would be.
Kael turned, trying to mask the storm inside him with a tired smile. "Sleep doesn't come easily anymore."
She set the candle on the small table, the flame casting shadows across the walls. Closing the door behind her, she stepped closer, her bare feet making no sound. When she reached him, she searched his face with an intensity that made him feel seen and vulnerable.
"You're tearing yourself apart," she said softly.
His jaw tightened. "That's my burden to carry. The people need me strong, not broken."
Her hand rose to touch his arm, tracing the hard line of his bicep. "Strength isn't the absence of grief, Kael. You've carried too much alone."
He pulled away, the words scraping like claws against his heart. "If I stop carrying it, everything falls apart. Druaka dies for nothing. The Hollow crumbles. Everyone who trusted me suffers."
"Listen to yourself," Lyria said, her voice trembling. "You speak as though you're a monster chained to their survival. But I know you. I know the truth you keep buried under all that fire."
His laugh was bitter, raw. "Do you? Do you really? Because when I closed my hands around the commander's neck, when I felt his life snap away, I enjoyed it. And when I looked back at the Hollow, I saw their fear. They looked at me the way men look at beasts before they put them down."
"Kael." She stepped closer, forcing him to meet her eyes. "You are not the monster you fear you've become. You're the man who built this place from nothing, who gave Druaka and me a home when we had none. You're the boy who once carried me away from fire and ruin, even when you had nothing left yourself. You love too deeply, Kael. That's what frightens you — not your power, but how much it hurts when you lose someone you love."
Her words struck something raw in him. His breath caught, and his chest heaved. "Then tell me… tell me who I am, because I don't know anymore."
"You're Kael," she said simply. "Not a dragon. Not a monster. A man. And a man in pain deserves to be held."
The dam broke. Kael's hands reached for her, pulling her against him as he buried his face into her shoulder. His body shook with sobs that he had held back for too long. Lyria wrapped her arms around him, her touch steady and unyielding, her fingers sliding through his hair as if anchoring him in place.
"I should've saved her," Kael choked out between ragged breaths. "I had the power… and still, I failed her."
"She knew," Lyria whispered, pressing her lips to his temple. "She knew you tried, and she didn't want you to carry that pain."
His grip tightened, his hands trembling as though letting go would mean losing everything. "I can't lose anyone else. Not you. Not ever again."
"You won't," she said, her voice fierce in its conviction. She pulled back just enough to make him see her eyes shining with unshed tears. "I'm here, Kael. And I'm not leaving you."
Their lips met — hesitant at first, then deepening with every heartbeat. It wasn't fire or hunger, but an aching tenderness, a desperate need for closeness. Kael kissed her back as though he could breathe through her, his tears mingling with hers.
Lyria guided him to the bed, her touch gentle but steady, her body pressing against his with quiet certainty. She kissed his cheeks, his jaw, the scars that marred his skin, as if reminding him that every mark told a story worth carrying.
"Don't run from this," she whispered against his lips.
He shook his head, voice breaking. "I don't want to hurt you."
"You won't." Her hand rested on his chest, feeling the frantic beat of his heart. "Let me in, Kael. Let me carry some of this with you."
His resistance crumbled. He let her pull him down beside her, their bodies molding together as hands roamed with patience and reverence. Every touch was deliberate, every kiss grounding. Kael felt the storm inside him quiet, not because it was gone, but because she bore it with him.
As the night unfolded, grief intertwined with intimacy. Lyria's breath against his ear, her whispered reassurances, her touch tracing the lines of his body — all of it tethered him back to the present. He poured himself into her, not with violence, but with vulnerability, with a raw need to be human again, to be seen beyond the monster he feared.
As the two embraced each other more, the more they yearned for the other. As they sensually took of they others clothes, the more their minds seemed to just melt into the other. They didn't speak, their bodies moved in a smooth but slowly way that kept the other just a bit antsy. As they leaned into one another, completely nude and utterly silent their eyes only shown with one thing. They wanted the other so badly that nothing else mattered, they wanted to lose their thoughts and feelings in the hearts and bodies of the other. So they did, they connected and poured out their heart and soul to the other through their movements, the sensual caresses and soft words spoken.
When they finally stilled, tangled in each other's arms, Kael rested his head on Lyria's chest, listening to the steady rhythm of her heart. Her fingers combed gently through his hair, grounding him in a way no battle ever could.
"I don't deserve this," he murmured, his voice low and heavy.
"You deserve peace," she replied, kissing the top of his head. "And I'll keep giving it to you until you believe it."
The words pierced him deeper than any blade. He pressed his lips against her collarbone, closing his eyes, and for the first time in what felt like years, he allowed himself to sleep.
And his dreams weren't filled with fire or screams — but with the warmth of her embrace, the reminder that even in ashes, something living could remain.