Chapter 27 – Ashes and Embers
The shrine was silent except for the sound of laboured breathing. Cultist bodies lay strewn across the stones, their blood already soaking into the soil. The corrupted direwolf, once a hulking terror, was nothing more than a broken heap between the cracked pillars. Smoke from fallen torches drifted in lazy coils, carrying with it the bitter smell of ash and iron.
Through it all, the druid leader stood untouched. His staff was planted lightly against the ground, his posture relaxed, his eyes half-lidded with an almost bored disdain. When the trio fixed their gaze on him, he smiled. It was not the smile of a man defeated, but the smile of one who had never considered the lives around him to have value in the first place.
“You think yourselves victorious,” he said, voice smooth as still water. “But look closer. Do you see me grieving the dead at your feet? Followers, beasts, tools. Replaceable, every one of them.”
His gaze slid to Jordan first. The smile sharpened.
“A tiefling. A stain made flesh. You fight, you bleed, but still the whispers will follow you. ‘Demon,’ they will call you, no matter how many bodies fall by your hand. A creature useful only as long as people need something ugly to blame.”
He shifted to Finn. His tone cooled, cutting with the precision of a blade.
“And you. Half-elf. Neither one thing nor the other. Polluted blood stretched thin, tolerated only because you bow low enough to remind the elves of your place. A reminder of what happens when purity falters.”
Finally, his eyes found Elarion. The contempt deepened into something almost mocking.
“And you, lythari. A ghost of a race that has already faded from the world. You should have stayed hidden in your grove, clinging to your myths. When your kind vanishes, who will notice? Who will mourn?”
The words landed with weight, not shouted but delivered with the quiet certainty of someone who knew exactly how to cut deepest. Then, as though none of it mattered, he shifted his grip on the staff and spoke again. “And yet, despite your flaws, you fight well. Better than I expected. Well enough to be more than cattle. I was cast aside once, stripped of name and land by cowards who called themselves noble. They thought to bury me in ruin. Instead, I built something greater.”
He lifted his chin, pride sharpening his voice. “House Myrthalen. A house not of birthright, but of will. A house that will tear down the others root and branch, until only one remains. Mine.”
He looked between them with cool confidence, the firelight catching on the tattoos that wound down his face like curling vines. “Join me. Stand beneath the banner of Myrthalen, and I will give you what the world denies you. Gold, land, influence. Not as outcasts, but as instruments of my rise. Together we will drag Evermeet’s mask of beauty into the dirt where it belongs.”
Jordan spat blood onto the stones, her lips curling into a snarl. “Fuck off,” she said. The words cracked through the air like the snap of bone.
The druid chuckled, the sound dry and amused. “Stubborn. Predictable.”
He tapped his staff against the earth, and the ground shuddered in response. Cracks split through the stone circle, roots curling up as if straining toward his call. Dust sifted down from the weathered monoliths. “Very well,” he said with a faint shrug. “I will leave your pitiful farmers and their scraps of land to rot without me. But should you find yourselves wise enough to reconsider, you will know where to find me. I will be in Leuthilspar, waiting to extend the offer once more.”
The torches guttered, their flames bowing inward as if drawn into him. Light warped, edges blurred, and in the span of a breath his figure wavered like smoke. Then, in a blink, he was gone. The shrine was silent again. Only the three of them remained, standing among the blood and ruin, their breaths harsh in the heavy night air.
For a long moment, none of them spoke. Then Jordan pushed herself upright, brushing dust from her arms and grimacing at the bruises already forming there.
“Well,” she said, forcing a crooked grin, “that was one hell of a fight.”
Finn let out a low chuckle, then shook his head. “A rush of adrenaline, more like. Gods, I can’t remember the last time I was pushed that hard. It was… honestly quite fun.”
Elarion exhaled through his nose, a faint, breathless laugh escaping him despite the blood still dripping from his blades. “I’ll give you that. A challenge worth remembering.”
For a few moments they laughed together, the sound almost jarring against the ruin of the shrine, but needed all the same.
The levity faded when Finn’s smile thinned. He leaned against his staff, his expression turning heavy. “Still, this is bigger than us. That druid, his house, whatever he’s building, it is not something three wanderers can handle alone. And the worst part is, we have no way of knowing who else is in on it. For all we know, half the nobles are playing into his hands already. It would not be wise to run to the Evermeet Knights waving this around.”
Jordan crossed her arms, her braid falling loose against her shoulder. “Maybe not. But Corvel feels like someone we can trust. At least with the truth of what we saw here. If we ever decide to come back to Ruith, he could keep an eye out for us. Be our ears while we are gone.” She shrugged, her tone turning more sober. “But is this really our job? We stumbled into it, sure, but we don’t owe anyone anything.”
Before Finn could speak again, Elarion’s voice cut across the clearing, low and sharp. “I don’t know who the hell that man was. I don’t care about his house, his schemes, or the other nobles in Leuthilspar. They can tear each other apart for all it matters to me.” He lifted his head, eyes darkening as he spoke. “But if he so much as lays a hand on Iris… if he dares touch a single strand of her hair…” His blades tightened in his grip until his knuckles paled, his voice dropping into something almost feral. “I will rip him apart limb by limb. I will break his staff, his bones, and tear him down until there is nothing left of him but scraps for the wolves in the wild. And I will do it with my own hands.”
The words carried a weight that silenced both Finn and Jordan. They were not bluster. They were a vow. This was not the warm, teasing Elarion they knew, but something darker, colder. Iris was the only noble he cared for, and in that moment, it was clear she was the only one who mattered at all.
The silence lingered until Finn sighed and ran a hand over his face. “We have done our duty here. I will stay a little longer to see if I can heal some of the blighted patches before we return. It will not undo everything, but it is something.”
Jordan bent to retrieve her flask, wiped the dust from its side, and tied it back to her belt. “First stop in Ruith is a tavern. And I am buying the good stuff. That fight deserves something stronger than farmer’s brew.”
Elarion’s eyes lingered on the heap of bodies. For an instant he felt the rush again, the memory of steel slicing through the ranger’s throat, the warmth of blood across his hands. The high stirred dangerously at the edges of his mind, tempting him to savour it. He shook it off, lowering his blades and forcing the words past his lips.
“Under Rillifane’s hand, all return. Flesh to earth. Breath to sky. Spirit to the Circle.”
The words hung in the air like a balm, though none of them felt entirely soothed. Together, they turned from the ruin of the shrine and began the long walk back to the village. The night was cold, the fields hushed, but they walked shoulder to shoulder through the dark.
The walk back to Ruith was a quiet one. The night air was cool, the fields still and hushed as though the land itself was holding its breath. When they arrived, the village was dark save for the glow spilling from Corvel’s inn. He was waiting for them, pacing near the doorway, and the moment he caught sight of them his brow furrowed. “You’re alive,” he said, relief cutting through his gruff tone. “Thank the gods. What did you find?”
They told him everything. Not every detail of the fight, but enough. Cultists. Corruption. A druid who had twisted the land to his own ends. Corvel listened without interrupting, his jaw tightening, his eyes clouding with genuine concern. “I knew something was wrong,” he muttered, shaking his head. “But this… this is worse than I feared. Those farmers have nothing but their land. If it’s taken from them, if they’re exploited by men like him…” He trailed off, his fists clenching. “I won’t let that happen here. Not while I draw breath.”
He excused himself long enough to fetch a small chest from behind the counter. Opening it, he pressed a pouch of coin into Finn’s hand. “For your work. And your rooms tonight are free. I won’t hear arguments.” Jordan opened her mouth, but Corvel raised a hand. “You risked your lives for the villagers and us townfolk. Let me do this much. When you pass through Ruith again, you can pay me then. For now, it’s thanks.”
The trio exchanged a glance, then nodded. Elarion gave the man a quiet smile. “We’ll take you up on that. But next time, we’ll be paying like everyone else.” Corvel’s stern expression softened. “Fair enough. Now eat, drink, and rest. You’ve earned it.” Dinner was warm and filling, the kind of simple fare that felt like a blessing after blood and dirt. When the plates were cleared away, they each went their separate ways, heading for their rooms.
Elarion lingered in the bath until the water cooled, washing the grime and blood from his skin. When he finally lay down on the bed, exhaustion settled over him like a heavy blanket. But sleep didn’t come. His thoughts circled Iris; her laugh, her light, the way she looked at the world. He told himself she was safe, but the memory of the druid’s sneer and his own vow kept twisting in his chest.
A knock broke through his thoughts. He frowned, pushing himself upright, and crossed to the door. When he opened it, Finn and Jordan stood in the hallway, both dressed in plain shirts and trousers. Jordan grinned, holding up two bottles of liquor like prizes. Finn had a loaf of bread tucked under his arm and a plate of cheese balanced in his hand.
Before Elarion could say a word, they pushed past him into the room. Jordan claimed the seat by the window, popping the cork from one bottle with her teeth, while Finn settled comfortably in the chair by the desk, already tearing bread into chunks. Elarion blinked at them, utterly thrown. “What are you doing?”
Finn smirked, setting cheese on the desk like he owned the place. “I think we’ve earned a night off. Drinks, food, a little peace and quiet. After the kind of day we’ve had, it’d be criminal not to.”
Elarion shook his head at them both, still bemused, but before he could complain, Finn broke the silence. He tore a piece of bread, popped it into his mouth, and gave Elarion a sly glance.
“So,” Finn said around a bite, “the name of our mystery girl is Iris, eh?”
Elarion froze. His eyes widened slightly, heat rising to his face. He had never told them her name. The memory of his vow at the shrine flashed in his mind, and he realized just how much he had said in the heat of anger. His grip tightened on the back of the chair in front of him, and for once, words didn’t come easily.
“Yes,” he admitted softly, his voice sheepish. “Her name is Iris. A beautiful name… for an even more beautiful person.”
Jordan leaned forward, a grin tugging at her lips. She reached for one of the bottles, poured a cup, and passed it to him. “Then tell us about her,” she said, eyes glinting with curiosity. “What’s she like?”
Elarion accepted the cup from Jordan, lifted it in a small, wordless thanks, and took a long gulp. The liquor burned its way down, and he exhaled, leaning back against the wall beside the bed. For a moment he stayed quiet, rolling the cup in his hands, deciding where to start. When he finally spoke, his voice was steady, but softer than usual.
“When I’m around her… it’s like everything else fades,” he said, his gaze fixed on the floor as if he couldn’t quite bring himself to look at them. “I feel… lighter. Like the weight I usually carry isn’t there anymore. She makes the air easier to breathe, makes the world feel less… sharp.”
He gave a quiet, almost embarrassed laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “And with her, I don’t feel like I have to put up a front. I can let go a little. I can be… a dork, even. Say stupid things, joke around, make a fool of myself. And she never makes me feel like I should be ashamed of it.” He swirled what was left in his cup, his tone dipping lower. “That’s what it feels like with Iris.”
Finn leaned back in the chair, tearing off a piece of bread and chewing slowly. His sharp eyes glimmered with amusement. “You sound quite lovestruck, you know. If you keep talking like that, we’ll start thinking you’ve written poetry about her.”
Elarion groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “I have not written poetry,” he muttered, though the heat creeping up his ears betrayed him. He took another gulp from his cup, shaking his head. “Maybe I am lovestruck. I don’t know. It just… it annoys the hell out of me too.”
Jordan perked up, tipping her bottle toward him. “Annoys you? How?”
Elarion leaned back against the wall, rolling the cup in his hand as he tried to put it into words. “Because I can’t figure her out. Iris is…” He paused, his expression softening. “She’s warm. Inviting. Being near her makes me feel alive, like everything’s lighter. But when I get too close, it’s like she blinds me. And sometimes she burns. I want to know more about her, to understand her, but every time I think I’m close, she pulls away. It’s like chasing the sun. You get near, and it slips further out of reach.”
Elarion leaned back against the wall, staring into his cup. “I haven’t even gotten the chance to ask her out yet,” he admitted quietly. “And now she’s gone.” The words hung heavy in the air. He shifted uncomfortably, dragging a hand through his hair. “Sometimes I wonder if I should’ve just been more forward. Just told her outright. But then… if I had pushed too much, I might’ve scared her away anyway. And I couldn’t bear that.”
His voice dipped lower, almost more to himself than to them. “So instead, I did nothing. And now I’m here, chasing after someone who might not even… be thinking about me.”
Jordan blinked, her expression flickering between surprise and disbelief. Then she leaned forward, bottle in hand. “Wait. You mean to tell me you’re not even dating yet?”
Elarion choked on his drink, coughing into his hand. His face went red as he stammered, “No… Not yet.”
Jordan stared at him, then threw her head back with a loud, disbelieving laugh. “Not yet, he says! You’ve been moping around, swearing vengeance, waxing poetic about how she’s the sun, and you’re not even her boyfriend?”
Elarion’s blush deepened until his whole face was red. “It’s not— I mean, it’s not like that. She’s not the only reason I left. But she is… part of it.”
Jordan slapped her knee and cackled. “Gods above. You’re leaving behind your whole life to chase after a girl who isn’t even yours yet. That is so tragic, holy shit.” She leaned back, wiping tears from her eyes as the laughter poured out of her.
Elarion groaned and covered his face with his hand. “You’re insufferable.”
Finn smirked from the desk, sipping calmly at his cup. “She has a point though. Sounds like a recipe for a very long, very celibate journey.”
“Finn!” Elarion snapped, his voice cracking, his face burning hotter.
Finn raised his brows, feigning innocence. “What? I’m only saying what we’re both thinking. Unless…” He leaned forward slightly, his grin sharp. “You’ve slept with her?”
Elarion went scarlet from ears to collar. He opened his mouth, closed it again, sputtered, then muttered into his cup, “No. Of course not. I… I want to treasure her.”
Finn barked out a laugh. “Bullshit. There’s no way you haven’t thought about it.” He shook his head, pouring himself another drink. “You poor bastard. My condolences.”
Jordan nearly choked on her liquor, her grin spreading ear to ear. “Oh, this is too good. Elarion Caithor, you poor, poor soul. Gods, you must be so sexually frustrated right now.”
“Jordan, the fuck—” he says, absolutely mortified.
She leaned back against the window, still laughing. “Boy, don’t look at me like that. Normally, I’d tell you to go find someone to help with that little problem, but I already know what you’d say, true love, loyalty, the whole shebang. So why bother?”
Elarion dragged his hand down his face, his ears still burning red. He tipped back the rest of his cup in one go, wincing as the liquor hit him hard. His tongue felt looser now, words tumbling out before he could think to stop them. “I love her,” he muttered, then blinked, correcting himself clumsily. “Or… at least I think this is what that feeling is. Gods, I don’t even know.”
Jordan arched a brow, grinning over the rim of her bottle. “Careful, wolf boy. That’s a big word to throw around.”
Elarion gave a sheepish laugh, half-embarrassed, half-resigned. “I want her so badly, but not like that. Not just to… use her to sate my own needs.” His gaze softened, the edges of his words blurring with drink. “I want more than that with her. All of it. I want to be with her, not just have her.”
He set his empty cup aside and leaned his elbows onto his knees, finally looking up at them both. His eyes were glassy from drink, but his voice carried a quiet, earnest weight. “Have you ever… been in love with someone like this? Where it makes no sense, and it hurts sometimes, but you can’t stop it? Where you’d give anything just to hold on to it?”
The room fell quiet, the fire snapping softly in the hearth, his question hanging in the air between them.
For a while, Finn didn’t answer. He leaned back in the chair, one hand resting on the cup, the other idly tracing the rim of the plate he’d brought up. His gaze was somewhere far beyond the walls of the inn, far away in time. “Yes,” he said at last, his voice quieter than usual. “When I was younger. My first love. My childhood friend.”
Jordan, who had been lounging against the window, sat up straighter, her grin fading into something curious. Elarion blinked, caught off guard by the softness in Finn’s tone.
“She was… my partner in crime,” Finn said, and a faint smile tugged at his lips. “Always pulling me along into something we shouldn’t be doing. Climbing the cliffs near the lake, sneaking into orchards that weren’t ours, laughing our heads off when we got chased out. She had that kind of light in her. Adventurous, fearless. She never cared about rules, and she didn’t let me care about them either.”
He took a slow breath, his eyes unfocused, as if watching the memory unfold in the flames of the hearth. “She was the one who pushed me to pursue my interests. ‘Don’t waste your life hiding what makes you different,’ she’d say. And she meant it. With her, I didn’t have to pretend. She accepted me exactly as I was, sharp edges and all, and expected nothing but my true self in return. That… was a rare kind of freedom.”
Finn chuckled softly, shaking his head at himself. “We were probably too young for it to count as love. But in hindsight, that’s what it was. The kind that makes the world bigger, brighter. The kind that makes you believe you can do anything.”
Jordan tilted her head, surprise written plainly across her face. “Never heard this one before. What happened then?”
His smile dimmed, his thumb running slowly along the stem of his cup. “We grew up. And the world around us grew heavier. I was determined to study, to see more than the little town we’d known. I wanted to learn, to become more than what our small lives allowed. I asked her to come with me, to leave it all behind. But she had her own responsibilities, burdens she couldn’t walk away from. Things that tied her to that place, things bigger than either of us.”
He looked down into his cup, his voice dropping lower. “I couldn’t force her to choose between me and her responsibilities. So, we let each other go. No anger, no bitterness. Just… acceptance. Two people deciding to stop before we broke something that mattered.”
The fire popped softly in the hearth. For a moment, only the warmth of its glow filled the silence. Elarion leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “Did you ever go back? Try again?”
Finn’s smile returned, but it was faint and bittersweet. “I did. Years later. Went back to my hometown, hoping to see her again. But she was gone. No one knew where, and she hasn’t been back since. And maybe… maybe that was the gods’ way of telling me it wasn’t meant to be.”
He lifted his cup, staring into it as if it might hold an answer. “I haven’t felt the same for anyone since. And truth be told, I don’t think I will. I chose a life that moves, a life that doesn’t linger. A stable relationship doesn’t fit into that. Not for me.”
The weight of his words hung between them. Jordan studied him for a long moment, the sharp edges of her expression softening into something closer to respect. “Huh,” she said finally. “Didn’t think you had a story like that tucked away, professor.” Finn’s mouth curved into a wry smile, though his eyes were still distant. “Not everything has to be a lesson,” he said quietly. “Some things are just memories.”
Finn’s words lingered in the room, the fire snapping softly as though reluctant to break the quiet. Elarion sat hunched forward on the bed, staring into his cup, his thoughts circling Iris. Finn leaned back in his chair, shoulders loose but eyes far away, his story still hanging between them. Slowly, both of them turned to look at Jordan. She had gone quiet, her bottle balanced loosely in her hand. For a moment, her red eyes flickered with something unguarded, something softer. It looked as if she might say something.
But then she tipped her head back, downed a long swallow, and set the bottle down with a thud. “Nope,” she said, her grin returning, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I don’t believe in love. Not like that. And I’m fine with the way things are. More than fine.”
The boys didn’t press her. Instead, the three of them stayed there in the dim glow of the fire, trading drinks and crumbs of bread and cheese, letting the night blur around them. Conversation rose and fell, laughter weaving in with quiet stretches, until the bottles ran low and the hearth burned down to embers.
And when the darkness of Ruith pressed close outside the window, they were still together, three wanderers drinking the night away.