Chapter 293 — Aftermath and Reflection
The Hollow was calm in the early morning, the smoke and chaos of battle reduced to faint wisps on the horizon. Inside the council hall, sunlight filtered through the high windows, falling over Kael and his council. The room was heavy with the unspoken toll of the recent fight, each member carrying the weight of what had transpired.
Rogan's voice broke the silence first, rough with self-reproach. "I should have been faster, sharper. My anger toward Teren nearly cost us more than it did. Azhara nearly sacrificed herself because I wasn't focused enough to protect her fully." He tightened his fists, jaw set.
Thalos nodded, a rare frown creasing his features. "I allowed myself to get caught up in my own combat. Some recruits were exposed when they shouldn't have been. My planning lacked foresight—I failed to anticipate the enemy's full movement."
Lyria's usual calm was gone, replaced with a thin edge of frustration. "Weapons were prepared, yes, but I could have monitored the battlefield more actively. I allowed Azhara to overextend herself while I… I didn't intervene in time."
Varik's expression was dark, contemplative. "I should have been more precise in scouting. If I'd anticipated even a fraction of the enemy's moves, the strain on the frontlines—and on Azhara—could have been far less."
Zerathis rumbled, deep and gravelly, his massive form tense. "I did not hold myself in check. My power is destructive, and I allowed my presence to push Azhara further than she should have gone. She almost broke herself because of my lack of restraint."
Saekaros's voice was measured, carrying the weight of responsibility. "I failed to ensure civilians were fully informed and prepared. Their fear affected the morale of our people and the efficiency of the battle. I could have mitigated some of the chaos."
Kael leaned forward, resting his hands on the table. "You're all far too harsh on yourselves," he said, voice steady but carrying weight. "Teren is dead, the high priest is dead, and the church's army has been shattered. There is no immediate threat." He paused, letting each council member meet his gaze. "Yet strength is not a fixed measure. We must grow stronger—individually and together—so that next time, none of us, especially Azhara, have to reach the point of near exhaustion just to survive."
A hush fell over the room as each council member digested Kael's words, realizing the truth in them. Strength could always be improved, and even victory was not a shield against complacency.
Kael exhaled slowly, straightening. "Varik, Zerathis, I'll send you both to scout. Find out if anyone is planning a counterattack. Do not engage unless absolutely necessary, and leave no trace of yourselves unless it cannot be avoided. Rogan and Thalos, continue training and preparing the militia and recruits. Lyria, stockpile and check weapons and supplies. Saekaros, inform the people with clarity and ensure evacuation plans are updated."
The council members nodded, acknowledging their orders. Even Zerathis' massive head dipped slightly, signaling understanding and compliance.
As the meeting adjourned, Kael rose and made his way to the healing tent. There, Azhara lay resting, her chest still weak but steady, her face pale from the strain of battle. Lyria was nearby, tending to minor tasks with a careful eye.
Kael knelt beside her, brushing hair from her forehead. "How are you feeling?" he asked softly.
Azhara's hand weakly found his, gripping him just enough to communicate her trust. "Better… thanks to all of you," she whispered. "Especially you, Kael."
"You poured yourself dry on the battlefield," Kael said, his voice quiet but firm. "I'll be here for you while you recover. You won't face this alone."
A faint smile touched her lips. "I know," she said. "I trust you. And I believe you'll always be there."
Kael settled beside her, placing a protective hand over hers. "Your strength is incredible, Azhara. But even the strongest need support. I'll make sure you never carry this burden alone."
For a long moment, the room was silent except for the steady rhythm of her breathing. Kael allowed himself to relax, feeling the weight of responsibility ease slightly as he sat beside her. He could sense the trust and bond between them deepening, unspoken but undeniable.
Outside, the Hollow's people moved through the streets, tending to repairs, tending to the wounded, and rebuilding what had been damaged. Inside, Kael allowed himself this quiet moment—reflecting, planning, and promising that the Hollow would only grow stronger from this day forward.
"Together," Kael whispered, pressing his forehead gently against hers. "We'll make sure nothing like this happens again. I promise."
And in that quiet, fleeting peace, he allowed himself to hope. To hope for strength, for growth, and for the safety of those he loved.