Chapter 19 - For Those Who Remain
The world came back to him in fragments. The smell of poultices and herbs clinging to the air. The faint scratch of linen against his skin. The ache in his ribs that flared each time he tried to breathe too deeply. When his eyes finally opened, Nymeris was there, seated in a chair beside the bed with her arms folded loosely, watching him as though making sure he would not vanish the moment she blinked.
“You’re awake,” she said softly. Relief softened her features, but it didn’t erase the tiredness in them.
“What happened?” His voice was hoarse, foreign even to his own ears.
She told him. How the mission had gone wrong, how the Moonbound’s numbers had been more than anyone anticipated, how he’d held the rear with Kolvar and a handful of others while the rest escaped. How he’d been carried back bleeding and half-conscious.
When she finished, his mind was already moving to the next question. “Where’s Iris?”
Something flickered in her expression. “I haven’t seen her since that day.” She hesitated, as if she might say more, but then only rose from her chair. “I should let the others know you’re awake. Rest, Elarion.”
The door closed behind her. The room felt different without her there, quieter, the shadows stretching longer across the floor. It was then that he noticed the folded parchment on the bedside table. His name was not on it — Iris’ was, written in a steady, deliberate hand. Curiosity pried at him before reason could argue. He reached for it, fingers brushing the edge of the page before unfolding it.
The contents were vague, almost cryptic to someone without context. The writer spoke of wanting to see Iris again, of a meeting long overdue, of wrongs not yet made right. There was a weight to the words that suggested reconciliation, perhaps even longing. It was signed simply: Evan.
The name settled in his mind like a stone dropped into still water, sending ripples outward. His thoughts shoved aside the sting in his side and the stiffness in his limbs. An unfamiliar heaviness stirred in his chest, difficult to pin down, until the truth slid into place with a sharp edge.
Jealousy…?
Who was this man who had written to her?
In a flash of memory, or perhaps something dredged from the haze of his unconsciousness, he swore he could hear her voice: He’s waiting for me. When had she said that? While he was asleep? Or had he only imagined it?
His eyes fell back to the letter, to the name at the bottom. Evan. That was a man’s name, wasn’t it? Probably. Most likely. His jaw tightened. Unless… maybe it was short for something else. Evanara. Evanelle. Evan…thia? That could be a name. A perfectly reasonable woman’s name.
A small, ridiculous hope flickered in his chest before promptly collapsing in on itself. No, it was probably a man.
Was this the reason she was gone? Did she really leave him and the Grove for him? The thought sat heavy in his stomach, bitter and twisting.
It was absurd, he knew it was absurd. It could be a brother, a cousin, an old friend. Maybe even a servant delivering news.
Or… a lover.
He clapped both hands over his face and groaned into his palms before dragging them down and giving himself a light smack on each cheek. “Idiot,” he muttered under his breath, as though chastising his own thoughts into submission.
Elarion stepped out into the Grove later that afternoon, the air crisp with the faint scent of pine and damp earth after a night’s rain. His body was stiff, the ache in his side a constant reminder of the battle he had only barely survived. Part of him wanted to return to bed, but the rest of him needed to see how the Grove was moving on without him.
The training grounds were busy, the rhythmic sound of sparring and clashing weapons filling the space. Conversations stilled for a moment when they noticed him, the shift in the air prickling along his skin. Then the first figure broke from the group and approached. A boy, barely old enough to be called a scout, still pale from his injuries.
“Sir,” the young man said, saluting with a stiffness born of nerves. “Thank you. For pulling me out.”
Elarion returned a short nod. “Stay on Kolvar’s flank next time. You’ll live longer.”
The boy gave a small, uncertain smile before stepping back. Two older scouts lingered a few paces away, arms crossed.
“You should have fallen back with the rest of us,” one of them muttered, his gaze sharp. “Would have saved more lives than staying behind.”
A third voice cut in before Elarion could respond. “And leave the rear open? We’d all be dead if he hadn’t.”
The argument faltered, leaving behind only the weight of what they had all lost. Elarion said nothing. He was not about to stand here and defend himself when, in hindsight, he knew they were both right. He had been reckless, and if Kolvar had not stayed with him, the Grove would likely be down one more warden.
A woman with her arm bound in fresh bandages stepped forward. She studied him for a long moment before speaking. “You’ve still got a death wish. But… I’m glad it didn’t work this time.”
She turned away before he could answer. The others drifted back to their routines, though he could feel their eyes following him when they thought he wasn’t looking. It was gratitude, yes, but forgiveness... Maybe not completely. And he understood why.
As he stood there, the thought came unbidden: if he had died out there, would that have been enough to redeem him? Would it have cleansed him of the guilt that had weighed on him for so long?
But just as the idea began to take shape, he saw her face in his mind. Iris, watching him with that mix of frustration and care that he still couldn’t quite untangle. He told himself to stop, to push the image away, yet something in him resisted.
Why? Because she would be sad if he died? Perhaps. But there was something more, something that felt uncomfortably selfish.
He didn’t want to die yet. Because he wanted her. He wanted Iris, and the chance, however slim, at a life where she was still there. The thought was almost childish in its simplicity, and yet it made the corner of his mouth lift in the faintest of smiles. He exhaled slowly, shaking his head at himself. Maybe he should be more careful next time. Even if it was only for his own sake.
The summons came in the late afternoon, when the Grove was bathed in the dim light of a sun sinking behind the trees. A warden found Elarion near the edge of the training grounds and told him Kolvar wanted him in his office. A debrief, they said. Elarion thought about refusing, but there was no point. Kolvar would find him if he didn’t go.
When he entered, Kolvar was at his desk, the map before him a spread of ink and lines that could have been anything. The air smelled faintly of leather, parchment, and smoke.
“Sit,” Kolvar said, eyes still on the map.
Elarion stayed where he was.
Kolvar’s gaze flicked up briefly, then back down. “Fine. Then stand. Report.”
Elarion recited the mission in clipped, precise sentences. The discovery of the Moonbound’s numbers, the retreat, holding the rear, Kolvar’s orders, the survivors making it back. His voice was flat, his eyes on the far wall, and Kolvar listened without a word. When the last detail was given, Kolvar rolled the map closed, setting it aside with deliberate care. Then he looked at Elarion fully. “You were reckless. You think standing there and bleeding out makes you a hero?”
“I did what I had to do.”
“You nearly got yourself killed.” Kolvar’s voice sharpened. “Another minute and you would have been gone before we could drag your sorry ass back. Is that what you wanted?”
“I did my job,” Elarion said, his tone tight, controlled.
Kolvar leaned forward, his voice rising. “You tried to throw your life away!”
Elarion’s jaw tensed, the muscle twitching, but he didn’t answer.
Kolvar’s eyes narrowed. “You think dying out there would have meant something? That it would have brought them back?”
Something inside Elarion cracked. He lifted his head slowly, meeting Kolvar’s gaze with eyes like ice. “Why do you care?”
Kolvar’s answer was immediate. “Because I was there—”
“No,” Elarion cut him off, his voice rising. “You don’t get to care now. You’ve spent years making it clear I was nothing to you. You think I don’t remember what you said to me that day? That I should have died with them?”
Kolvar’s mouth opened, but Elarion didn’t stop.
“That sentence has been carved into me for half my life. I hear it when I try to sleep. I hear it when I wake up. You put it there. And yes,” his voice broke, then surged back louder, harsher “maybe for a moment out there, I wanted it. I wanted to die. I wanted the pain to stop. I wanted to bleed out in that mud and finally be free of carrying their ghosts. I thought maybe if I did, maybe it would bring them back. Corvellen. Serelune.”
His chest was heaving now. “And then you stayed with me. You dragged me back. And I was furious. Furious that you wouldn’t just let me end it. You hated me so much… so why? Why didn’t you just leave me there?”
Kolvar’s hands were clenched so tight on the edge of the desk that his knuckles had gone white. “Because—”
“WHAT ELSE DO YOU WANT FROM ME, KOLVAR?” Elarion’s voice shook violently, but he didn’t stop. “Do you want me to apologise again? Do you want me to say it should have been me? FINE. IT SHOULD HAVE BEEN ME. But it wasn’t. And I have lived every day since carrying that weight alone.”
The first tear slipped down his cheek, and once it fell, the rest followed. Harsh, unsteady sobs forced their way out, breaking apart the words. “I was fucking eighteen, Kolvar. I didn’t even get to cry for them. Not once. You made sure of that. You made sure I carried it in silence.”
Kolvar stood there, his own breath uneven, his fist shaking at his side. For a long moment it seemed he might erupt again, but then his shoulders dropped, the strength leaving them as he lowered himself into his chair. The anger bled from his face, replaced by something heavier, older.
Sadness.
“I couldn’t forget,” Kolvar said, and his voice trembled. “I sent them off without even saying a proper goodbye. The good morning kiss Serelune gave me that day… I didn’t know it would be the last. I can still see her lying there, small and lifeless. I can still feel the weight of her arm in my hands, the same arm I put a ring on when I asked her to marry me. I had to take that ring off her myself.” His voice faltered, and he swallowed hard before continuing. “I should have been with them. I should have gone instead of asking you to take my place. I was the one who told you to cover for me. That is my sin.”
Elarion’s breathing was shallow, ragged.
“I wasn’t there to protect her. I wasn’t there to die with her, Elarion. And you were there, standing in the ruin of what was left. Breathing when she wasn’t. I couldn’t bear it. I needed someone to blame. I needed something to make sense of why the gods would give me the love of my life only to tear her away so soon, so cruelly. And you were standing there. So I made you the reason.”
He looked up, his eyes red. “It was unfair. I know it was unfair. But I am just a man, Elarion. And no matter how much I tried to hate you for causing her death, I couldn’t. Because I know you didn’t. And because…” His voice cracked fully now. “…because I care for you. Because Serelune would have wanted me to protect you, no matter what happened. And I failed at that too.”
The tear rolled down his cheek, cutting through years of bitterness. “I am sorry, Elarion. I am so sorry.”
Elarion couldn’t hold himself upright any longer. His head bowed, and the sobs came harder — the sound of years of grief finally finding its way out. Kolvar sat across from him, his own tears falling, the two of them bound together in the heaviness of what they had carried, unspoken, for so long. It was not complete forgiveness. But it was the first step toward it.
The brazier’s coals had burned low by the time the storm inside the office quieted. The heavy silence was different now, not born of anger, but of exhaustion. Both men sat there, eyes raw, the weight of their grief shared for the first time in years. At some point, neither of them could say when, the sharp edges between them had dulled. They were still there, but no longer cutting.
Elarion’s voice came low, almost hesitant. “I miss them. Serelune. Corvellen. Every single day.”
Kolvar’s jaw tightened, his eyes flickering with the echo of the same ache.
He cleared his throat, steadying himself before speaking. “Take the next few days off,” he said, the roughness in his tone betraying the strain. “If you need longer, take it. Just… take care of yourself, Elarion.”
Elarion rose slowly, his limbs heavy from more than just injury. He turned toward the door, hand resting briefly on the frame.
“Kolvar,” he said without looking back.
Kolvar lifted his head.
Elarion met his gaze. “Thank you. And… I forgive you.”
For a moment, Kolvar only nodded, but there was a faint lift at the corner of his mouth, something that wasn’t quite a smile yet but might be one day.
Elarion stepped out into the hall, pulling the door shut behind him.
As he started down the corridor, a sound reached him, faint, almost swallowed by the wood and stone. The soft, uneven sobs of a man who had never truly allowed himself to grieve the loss of his fiancée and his best friend. Elarion paused for only a heartbeat before continuing on, the ache in his chest still there, but no longer something he had to carry alone.
That evening, Elarion found himself at Nymeris’ home. The fire in the hearth had burned low, casting the room in a warm amber glow. Ayda was curled up in the corner on a small couch, fast asleep after spending most of the day crying and pouting because Iris had left without saying goodbye.
Nymeris was at the table, her hands wrapped around a cup of tea. She looked up when he entered, her expression softening. “Sit,” she said, nodding toward the chair opposite hers. He did, leaning his forearms against the table. For a while he just stared at the wood grain, letting the quiet fill the space between them, until finally he said, “I spoke with Kolvar today.”
Her brows lifted slightly. “And?”
“We… talked. Really talked. For the first time in years.” He drew in a slow breath. “We said things we should have said a long time ago. It wasn’t perfect. But… it felt like some kind of closure.”
A small, genuine smile touched her face. “I’m glad. You’ve both carried that weight far too long.”
He nodded once, his gaze drifting toward Ayda’s sleeping form before returning to Nymeris. “What do I do now? Iris is gone...”
Nymeris tilted her head. “Did you even think about going after her?”
“Of course I did.” His voice was almost defensive, then softened. “But I feel… bound here. If I leave, I’ll be abandoning the Grove. If something happens while I’m gone—”
“Elarion,” she interrupted gently, “you don’t have to bear the weight of your siblings’ deaths alone anymore.” She reached across the table, resting her hand over his. “We will be fine. We are safe here. And we will always welcome you back whenever you want to come home. Because we love you. Because we are your family.”
His throat tightened.
“I want you to finally live for yourself,” Nymeris continued, her voice warm but steady. “Go. Follow Iris. See the world the way you’ve always wanted to. Live for Serelune and Corvellen, yes… but most importantly, live for you.”
The first tears slipped down his cheeks before he could stop them. Nymeris moved to stand behind his chair, her hands resting on his shoulders for a moment before she bent to wrap him in a loving embrace.
“You deserve all the happiness in the world, my son,” she said.
The words broke something open inside him. His breath hitched, and the tears came harder, no longer the restrained kind but the full release of someone who finally believed that he mattered. That he was loved. That he belonged.
When the storm of it eased, he sat back, wiping at his face with the heel of his hand. His voice was hoarse but sure when he said, “I’ll go after her.”
Nymeris’ smile was small but full of pride. “Then go. And live.”