Chương 11: Chapter 5- The Echo of What Was Lost- Part III

The room settled into quieter conversation after that. Even Ciara managed a faint laugh before exhaustion pulled her back beneath the weight of the medicine again. Aibell adjusted the blankets around the children while Garrick finished the last of his tea beside the hearth, the firelight casting long shadows across the tired lines of his face. For a little while, the eastern wing almost felt peaceful. Then another warning horn echoed faintly from somewhere beyond the walls.

Garrick's expression hardened immediately. Duty returned faster than rest ever could. He pushed himself upright from the bench with a low groan and adjusted the sword at his side.

"I need to get back to the western patrols." Aibell frowned slightly.

"You expect trouble tonight?"

"I expect people to panic," Garrick replied.

"Trouble usually follows shortly afterward." He glanced toward Ciara next.

"Merrow will check the fever again before dawn. If it breaks, she'll live."

"And if it doesn't?" Aibell asked quietly. Garrick hesitated briefly before answering.

"Then Merrow will still fight harder than death does." That sounded like her. He started toward the door before pausing when he noticed me standing from the chair beside the hearth.

"You heading somewhere?"

"I need air," I replied.

"That makes one of us." I adjusted the cloak around my shoulders before glancing briefly toward Aibell.

"Keep the fire going if it dies." She studied me for a moment too long.

"You're not leaving," she said quietly. Not quite a question.

"No," I replied after a brief pause.

"Not yet." Something in her expression loosened slightly after that, though the concern remained. Garrick held the door open as we stepped into the corridor outside. Cold air drifted faintly through the stone halls while distant footsteps echoed from deeper within the eastern wing. The city felt restless, even at this hour. Neither of us spoke much while climbing the narrow stairways leading toward the western parapets.

Torches burned low along the walls while guards moved between towers carrying bundles of arrows and fresh oil for the braziers overlooking the gates below. The tension outside had only worsened since nightfall. By the time we reached the top of the wall, cold wind swept hard enough across the parapets to cut through the lingering warmth still trapped in my clothes from the hearth below. Fallowspire stretched beneath us in flickering gold and shadow.

Lanterns glowed along the narrow streets while patrols moved steadily between the districts below. Beyond the walls, the forests surrounding the valley looked endless beneath the moonlight, dark & watching. Garrick rested both forearms against the stone overlooking the western gates.

"You always did prefer rooftops and walls to actual rooms."

"Less crowded," I replied. Garrick snorted softly.

"You once slept in a stable for two weeks because you said the tavern walls were 'too loud.'""The horse was polite enough not to sing," I said.

"That bard was terrible."

"He was enthusiastic," I replied. Garrick shook his head slowly beneath the torchlight.

"Gods, I forgot how exhausting you are." The wind carried silence between us for a while afterward. Below, the western gates remained sealed shut while guards patrolled constantly along the battlements. Farther beyond the valley, darkness swallowed the roads leading south toward Blackthorn, toward ash and ruin. Garrick's voice lowered eventually.

"You looked ready to collapse when you reached the gates."

"I've looked worse."

"I know," he replied quietly.

"That's the part that concerns me." I rested both hands against the cold stone parapet and stared into the forest beyond the walls. For several moments, only wind filled the silence, then Garrick spoke again.

"You planning to leave before dawn?" Straight to the point as always.

"Yes." The answer disappeared into the wind between us. Garrick did not look surprised.

"You think staying puts them at risk." It wasn't a question yet I nodded once. The older soldier exhaled slowly through his nose before looking out across the valley.

"You still carrying that burden then."

"I never stopped." The torchlight flickered beside us while Nemain pulsed faintly beneath the cloak at my side. Garrick's eyes shifted briefly toward the sword before returning to the darkness below.

"What happened to you out there, Kaelen?" Concern, that made answering harder. I stared toward the distant tree line beyond the walls where moonlight vanished beneath the forest canopy.

"Do you remember the old stories people used to tell, about the northern wilds?" Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author. Garrick frowned slightly.

"Depends which ones."

"The ones about the groves." Recognition flickered briefly across his face.

"You were actually part of one," he realized quietly.

"Once." The word felt older than it should have. The wind shifted harder across the parapets while I tried deciding how much truth another person deserved to carry. Eventually, exhaustion made the decision for me.

"It was called Elarion," I said quietly.

"Deep in the northern forests beyond the mountain roads." Garrick remained silent beside me, listening.

"The grove lasted centuries," I continued.

"Long enough that most people stopped believing it existed." My hands tightened slightly against the cold stone railing.

"We thought isolation made us safe." The bitterness in that sentence surprised even me. Garrick's expression darkened slowly.

"What happened?" Smoke returned to my memory instantly. Fire climbing ancient trees, screams beneath burning branches, ash falling through the dark.

"We found something we should have left buried." Garrick waited beside me without interruption. Far below us, torchlight drifted through the streets of Fallowspire like scattered embers against the dark. Somewhere within the city, a bell rang softly to mark the changing watch. I kept my eyes on the forests beyond the walls. It felt easier that way.

"There were ruins deep beneath the grove," I said eventually.

"Older than any of us realized. Older than the kingdoms." My hands tightened slightly against the cold stone parapet.

"The elders believed they had discovered remnants of something sacred." Garrick remained silent.

"The ritual began as research," I continued quietly.

"Then curiosity became obsession." Nemain pulsed faintly beneath the cloak at my side, hungry.

"We started hearing whispers long before anyone understood what they were," I said.

"Promises of knowledge & power. Some of the elders believed the voices came from the Wild itself."

"But they didn't," Garrick murmured.

"No." The single word felt heavy enough to sink beneath the stone beneath my feet. Cold wind swept across the walls again carrying the scent of smoke from the southern districts.

"When the ritual finally opened the ruins completely," I continued, "something answered and it slaughtered the grove in a single night." Garrick's expression darkened but he said nothing.

"There were over two hundred people living in Elarion," I said quietly.

"By dawn, most of them were dead." The city below suddenly felt very far away. I could still see the flames if I closed my eyes. Still hear them.

"The creature came through carrying Nemain," I said after a long silence.

"That sword belonged to it before it ever belonged to me." Garrick finally looked toward the black scabbard at my side fully now.

"What is it?" he asked quietly. The question lingered between us while torchlight flickered across the walls. I searched for a simpler answer and found none.

"A demon," I said at last. The wind seemed to still around us afterward. Garrick did not recoil, did not step backward. But the realization settled visibly across his face.

"And the sword?" he asked carefully.

"It feeds." That answer earned silence again. I rested one hand lightly against Nemain's hilt beneath the cloak.

"When the grove fell, I took it from the creature during the fighting," I continued quietly.

"I didn't even understand what I was touching at the time. I only knew someone needed to stop it."

"You bound yourself to it?"

"Yes." The word came softer than I intended. Garrick stared out into the darkness beyond the walls for several moments before speaking again.

"And now it follows you."

"Yes."

"How long?" he asked.

"Years," I said quietly. The older soldier exhaled slowly through his nose while one hand rested against the stone parapet beside him.

"And if you draw it?" Nemain pulsed once, slow & deliberate.

"The demon feels it," I replied quietly.

"Every death, every wound, every time the blade feeds, he senses it." My gaze drifted toward the forests surrounding the valley below.

"That's why I'm leaving before dawn." Garrick looked toward me sharply.

"Kaelen—""If it finds me here," I interrupted quietly, "it finds the city too." The words settled hard between us. For a while, only wind filled the silence afterward. Then Garrick spoke quietly enough that I almost missed it.

"You really believe you deserve to carry this alone." Sadness evident in his voice. I laughed once beneath my breath without humor.

"Deserve has very little to do with it." Before Garrick could answer, movement near the stairway leading onto the parapets caught my attention, soft footsteps. Aibell stood half-hidden within the torchlit archway leading onto the wall. The blanket from the eastern wing still hung around her shoulders while cold wind tugged strands of dark hair loose around her face. Her expression told me immediately she had heard enough. For a few moments, none of us spoke.

Cold wind swept along the parapets while torchlight flickered against the stone walls surrounding us. Somewhere below, guards continued moving through the streets of Fallowspire unaware that the quiet conversation above them carried enough truth to terrify kingdoms. Aibell remained motionless within the archway leading onto the wall, stunned. Her eyes moved slowly between Garrick and me before finally settling on Nemain at my side.

"The sword," she said quietly.

"That's what you meant before." The realization already sat plainly across her face. Garrick glanced briefly toward me as though considering whether he should leave us alone. I shook my head once. No point hiding what remained now. Aibell stepped farther onto the parapet while tightening the blanket around her shoulders against the wind.

"You were going to leave," she said softly. Again, not a question.

"Yes." The honesty hurt more than lying would have. Aibell lowered her gaze briefly toward the city below us before speaking again.

"To protect us from that thing."

"It hunts the blade," I replied quietly.

"Staying near me makes people targets eventually." The wind shifted harder across the walls. Aibell let out a slow breath before looking back toward me.

"And you decided that alone."

"There wasn't much to discuss," I say.

"There usually isn't with you." Fair. Garrick rubbed one hand slowly across his face before stepping away from the parapet.

"I'm suddenly understanding why you spent half your life irritating everyone who tried helping you."

"That number feels low," I mutter, trying to ease up the atmosphere. Neither of them looked amused. I probably deserved it. Aibell studied me carefully through the torchlight.

"So, all this time…" Her voice softened slightly.

"The nightmares, the sword, the way you keep looking over your shoulder."

"Yes," I replied quietly. Her eyes lifted back toward mine.

"And you still walked into Blackthorn anyway." The question settled deeper than she probably intended. I looked out toward the forests surrounding the valley before answering.

"Leaving people to die seemed worse." Aibell stared at me silently after that. Something in her expression changed slowly then, understanding perhaps or the beginning of it.

"You really think you're dangerous enough to abandon everyone before dawn," she said quietly.

"I know what follows me."

"And I know what carried us through the forest," she replied. The words caught me off guard enough that I looked toward her fully. Aibell stepped closer beside the parapet while the wind pulled softly at the edges of the blanket around her shoulders.

"You keep talking like you're some curse waiting to happen," she said.

"But every time someone needed you, you stayed."

"That doesn't change what Nemain is."

"No," she agreed quietly.

"But it changes what you are." The silence afterward felt sharper than the cold. Garrick watched both of us carefully before finally speaking.

"She sounds smarter than you."

"Most people are."

"That isn't modesty," Garrick muttered.

"That's resignation." Again, probably true. Below us, another patrol crossed the western courtyard while warning lanterns flickered beside the sealed gates. Fallowspire still looked tense beneath the night sky, but from up here the city no longer felt like a frightened thing hiding behind stone walls, just human, fragile, tired, yet trying anyway. Aibell moved beside the parapet until she stood close enough that I could feel warmth lingering through the blanket despite the cold wind sweeping across the wall.

"You said the creature follows the sword," she said quietly.

"So, what happens if you stop running?" I almost answered immediately. Then realized I genuinely did not know.