Chapter 143 – Warmth Within the Hollow
The Hollow breathed with ease.
It was the kind of day that made the air itself feel kinder—sunlight spilling over the stone walls, the sound of rushing water from the aqueducts blending with laughter in the streets. Smiths sang at their forges, hammer strokes ringing like bells. Farmers traded their first ripe vegetables for fresh bread, and the scent of herbs from the new cavern mingled with roasted meat from the kitchens.
Kael walked the streets at an easy pace, for once unburdened by council debates or the weight of decisions. His armor was set aside for simple clothes, his blade sheathed but never far. Around him, people paused in their work to greet him with nods, smiles, or quick words of thanks.
Children darted past, shrieking with joy as they chased one another. One boy stumbled too close to Kael, bumping into his leg. He looked up, wide-eyed, as if afraid he'd done something terrible.
Kael crouched down, resting a hand on the boy's shoulder. "Careful," he said softly. "Your feet are faster than your eyes."
The boy nodded quickly, then grinned before sprinting back to his friends. Kael straightened, a faint smile tugging at his lips.
From the side, Fenrik called out, "Well, look at you. Kael the dragon, reduced to giving parenting advice."
Kael turned his head to see Fenrik and Thalos seated outside the smithy, sharing mugs of ale. Rogan leaned against the wall, arms crossed, listening to their banter with his usual half-smile. Varik stood a little apart, speaking quietly with a young nomad about proper bowstring care.
Kael strode over, arms crossed. "And what are you lot doing? Relaxing while the Hollow works?"
Fenrik raised his mug with a grin. "Every commander needs his soldiers to stay well-watered."
Thalos gave a booming laugh that made his mug slosh. "Join us, Kael! One drink won't topple the walls."
Kael shook his head, though his smile betrayed him. "If I join, who will make sure the Hollow doesn't fall apart while you're drunk?"
"Lyria," Rogan said simply, tilting his head toward the approaching figure.
She was weaving through the crowd with the grace of someone born to lead, her long hair pulled back in a loose braid. She carried a basket of herbs from the healers' quarters, her expression lighting up when she caught sight of Kael.
"There you are," she said, stopping in front of him. "I've been looking everywhere."
Kael raised a brow. "Everywhere?"
"Well, here. The council square. The watchtower. The fields." She smirked, lowering her voice. "You're predictable, Kael. Always pacing like a restless wolf."
He chuckled, leaning closer. "And you always manage to catch me."
Her smirk softened into something gentler. Without hesitation, she slid her free hand into his and tugged him down the street. The others laughed and jeered like old friends, but Kael let himself be pulled along, the warmth of her hand grounding him.
They walked until the sounds of the bustling street faded behind them, stopping at the edge of the new cavern where the stream ran cool and clear. Lyria set down her basket and breathed in deeply, her eyes half-closed.
"It smells like life here," she murmured. "Like the world is trying to give us something after all it's taken."
Kael studied her profile, the way sunlight traced her cheekbones and caught in her golden eyes. "And you still think I need to be reminded to appreciate it?"
"Yes," she said simply, turning to face him. "Because you still look at the world like you're waiting for it to take everything away again."
Kael opened his mouth to argue, but she stepped closer, silencing him with the press of her hand against his chest.
"Don't fight me on this, Kael. Not here. Not now." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Let yourself feel it."
He stared at her, then let out a quiet laugh. "You're relentless."
Her lips curved into a playful grin. "And you're stubborn. That's why we fit."
Before he could reply, she wrapped her arms around his waist, tugging him down to her. He didn't resist. His own arms slid around her, holding her close. For the first time in weeks, the weight on his shoulders seemed to lessen.
"You're warm," she whispered against his chest.
"You make me so," he replied, his voice rough but tender.
She tilted her head up, mischief glinting in her eyes. "Is that your way of saying you'd freeze without me?"
He smirked faintly. "I'd burn without you."
Her laugh bubbled out, bright and unguarded, and she pulled him into a kiss. It was not desperate or grieving as their earlier ones had been, but soft, steady, and filled with promise. His hand slid to her jaw, holding her there, deepening the kiss until she finally broke away, breathless and smiling.
"Kael," she said softly, resting her forehead against his, "you're allowed to be happy."
He closed his eyes, pressing his lips to her brow. "Only because of you."
Later, as the sun dipped low and shadows stretched across the Hollow, the council gathered not for a meeting, but for a meal. They sat at long tables in the square, surrounded by laughter, clinking mugs, and the smell of roasted meat. Nomads and Hollow-born mingled freely, sharing stories, songs, and food.
Kael sat with Lyria at his side, listening as Fenrik tried to convince Thalos he could out-drink him, while Rogan quietly kept tally. Varik corrected a child's stance as she showed him how she'd been practicing her bow grip. Saekaros and his wife shared stories of their travels with eager listeners.
It was noisy, imperfect, and alive.
Kael felt Lyria's hand slip into his beneath the table. When he looked at her, she was already watching him, a knowing smile tugging at her lips.
"You see it now, don't you?" she murmured.
He squeezed her hand gently. "Yes. For the first time in a long while."
That night, as the people drifted home and the fires dimmed, Kael and Lyria lingered beneath the stars. She leaned into him, her head against his shoulder, his arm wrapped around her waist.
For all the chaos that had defined his life, this moment was quiet, simple, and enough.
And for Kael, that was everything.