Chapter 154

I brought Issa her meals.

She hadn’t left her room in three days. Hadn’t gotten out of bed. Barely touched the food I left for her.

I stayed with her when I could. Not long, but hopefully enough to let her know I was there - that I cared. I’d sit at her bedside, stroke her arm, press a kiss to her temple before I left. I told her I loved her. That we all did.

I didn’t ask how she was doing. I didn’t need to.

Her grief was thick and suffocating. There wasn’t anything I could say that would reach her where she was. So I didn’t try. No empty comfort. No promises that things would be alright.

She needed time. She needed to know she wasn’t alone. That we weren’t going anywhere.

Lilae had gone the other direction entirely. Ever since Earth, her curiosity had sharpened into something relentless.

“Why is the music so angry?”

“Have you ever seen a documentary? What was it about?”

“Did you have a fone? What did you do with it?”

“What was that horrible screaming noise the cars made?”

“What’s the tallest skyscraper? Have you ever been to the top?”

“Why are doctors so lazy?”

She was genuinely upset she hadn’t seen a library and blamed the Covenant for ruining her trip.

I answered what I could. I tried - many times - to emphasize that Earth wasn’t safe. I don't know if it stuck.

She’d been lucky she’d met Officer Jenkins. Things could have gone much worse if she’d met someone else.

I was still worried she’d try to go again, despite the numerous promises that she gave saying she wouldn’t go back without me.

This wasn’t a time for chasing leads. My family needed me here.

Issa’s heart had been broken. Ashlara, Mirri, Serah, and Lilae had all been through hell and back. The rest were still trying to process everything - Earth, Sszarik, the Covenant.

So I pulled back. Put the investigation on hold. Let the bigger projects sit unfinished.

I stayed present instead. Walks. Conversations. Quiet moments. Reading together. Playing games. Sparring in the yard. Helping with whatever anyone needed.

Trying - carefully - to mend what I’d damaged. The trust I’d fractured. The hurt I’d caused.

There were things I couldn’t ignore. I still checked on Nyssira. Still kept the house running. But everything else could wait.

We gathered in the common room that evening.

Issa had finally come out. Not for dinner, but sometime after. She curled into one of the overstuffed chairs, legs tucked tight against her chest. Her eyes were swollen, red. Hollow.

No one pushed her.

They just… passed by. A hand on her shoulder. A brush of fingers across her arm. Quiet acknowledgments that she was seen. That she mattered.

I sat with my guitar, tuning the strings.

Mirri leaned in, close enough that only I could hear her.

“You sure?” I asked.

She smiled and nodded, then slipped away to sit beside Mak.

I exhaled, let my fingers settle, and found the melody. Then I started to sing.

When the ground gives out beneath your feet
And the night won’t loosen up its teeth
You don’t have to carry the weight alone
I’ve seen what grows when it’s left to stone

Call my name - even just a breath
I’ll find you through the noise, through fear, and ****
You don’t have to carry it all on your own
If you fall, I fall - we don’t stand alone

We’re a burning flame in the pouring rain
Hands reaching out even through the pain
You don’t have to ask - we already know
We pull you close, we don’t let go

When you’re lost in the dark, when you can’t see through
We’ll be the light reaching out for you
No matter the storm, no matter how far -
We are each other. We are who we are.

Mirri took the next verse. Her voice was soft, steady, and warm in a way that settled the room.

Come here, I’ve got you - just breathe for me
You don’t have to be strong, you don’t have to be
I see the cracks you’re trying to hide
You don’t have to carry them all inside

You don’t have to say it, I hear it still
In the way your hands shake, in the way you go still
Let me hold you until you remember your light
You’re not alone - we’ll get through this alright

I joined her for the chorus.

We’re a burning flame in the pouring rain
Hands reaching out even through the pain…

Then Ashlara stood. Her voice came out low and rough - uncertain at first.

Stand up. Breathe. Wipe the blood from your teeth.
World wants to break you? Then break it beneath.
You’re not alone - don’t you dare forget
We’ve clawed our way out of worse than this yet

You think you’re weak? I’ve seen you fight
Seen you hold on when you could’ve lost sight
So if you fall - I drag you back
We win together - we cast out the black

The three of us carried the chorus again, stronger this time.

Elise stood next. She flushed, eyes downcast, but she didn’t sit back down. She clasped her hands together, as if she didn’t know what to do with them. Her voice started - small and fragile - but it grew as she continued.

I don’t always know what to say
And sometimes I… pull away
But I feel it - all that you hide
Like a fracture you keep tucked inside

Even silence speaks - I’m listening through
Every quiet moment, I’m reaching for you
Take my hand - I’ll find my way
I’m still here. I’m here to stay.

By the chorus, Tib, Mak, Torvek, and Lilae had joined in. Torvek. Lilae.

We’re a burning flame in the pouring rain
Hands reaching out even through the pain…

Serah’s voice rose last - clear, strong, and bright.

Look at me, you’re still here
That means you made it through the fear
And I know it hurts, I see the strain
But you don’t have to hide your pain

If your voice won’t come, I’ll speak for you
If you lose your way, I’ll see you through
We’ll mend the cracks, we’ll start again
You’re not alone - not now, not then

We all came together for the final chorus. Even more voices now.

Not everyone. Brinja stayed quiet, leaning back with that same too-cool expression. Issa didn’t sing, but she was listening. That was enough.

We’re a burning flame in the pouring rain
Hands reaching out even through the pain
You don’t have to ask - we already know
We pull you close, we don’t let go

When you’re lost in the dark, when you can’t see through
We’ll be the light reaching out for you
No matter the storm, no matter how far -
We are each other. We are who we are.

* * *

The next day, I met with Master Iriandor and Elarion in Caelwynne.

I told them everything. The Gallowborn. The portals. The guns. The possible ****. The pyramid in Caldris. What we’d run into on Earth.

Iriandor had trouble with most of it. Part disbelief, part scale. He lacked the context - it didn’t fit into the world he understood. Still, he remained confident. The Pathwardens, in his mind, could respond to any threat. Steel, spell, or otherwise.

So I showed him the pistol I’d found in the pyramid.

I wasn’t a gun person. Never had been. Didn’t own one. Didn’t think about them unless I had to.

But I’d gone hunting with my father when I was younger. One of the few things we ever managed to share for a while. He liked the quiet. The patience. The clean, simple focus of tracking something through the woods.

I liked being away from everything else. No expectations. No noise. No judgment.

It didn’t last.

He had a job. A family. Responsibilities that pulled at him from every direction. I had my own life forming - friends, distractions, questions I didn’t have answers to yet.

We drifted and eventually gave up.

But some of it stuck. Hunter safety. Range discipline. How to hold, how to aim, how not to be an idiot with something that could end a life in an instant.

I led them out beyond the edge of town, to a low rise with a dirt hill behind it - good backstop. I set a few melons in the grass and paced off about fifty feet.

“This is a pistol,” I said, holding it up. The magazine was still out. “One of the smallest, most common weapons on Earth.” I let that sit for a moment. “The Covenant is bringing these in,” I continued. “But this isn’t what an army uses. This is secondary. Like a dagger. What they’ll use bigger. More dangerous. Worse.”

I handed it to Iriandor.

He turned it over in his hands, examining it with mild curiosity. No tension. No concern. Just another unfamiliar tool. After a moment, he passed it back without comment.

Elarion gave it a longer look, but the reaction was the same - interest, not alarm.

I nodded toward the targets. “The melon on the right. Could you hit it with an arrow?”

Elarion gave me a flat look.

“I know, I know,” I said, smiling faintly. “Rhetorical question. Go ahead.”

Iriandor moved without hesitation - unslung his bow, nocked an arrow, drew, and released in a single fluid motion.

The shot was clean. The arrow punched through the melon in a burst of juice and flesh, then buried itself in the dirt behind it.

He lowered the bow and looked back at me.

“Good,” I said. “I’ll take the one on the left.”

Elarion handed the pistol back.

I seated the magazine with a solid click, racked the slide, and flicked the safety off. “You might want to cover your ears.”

They exchanged a glance, shrugged, and did.

I pulled the trigger.

The shot cracked - sharp, violent, louder than anything around it had a right to be. You could feel it in your chest and on your face.

Dirt kicked up low and to the left. I missed.

Both of them flinched - hard - and stepped back instinctively.

The sound echoed across the hillside.

I exhaled, a little sheepish. “Been a while,” I admitted. “Let me try that again.”

I adjusted my grip. Took a breath. Found the line. And squeezed the trigger.

The melon detonated. Pulp and rind burst outward in a wet spray, collapsing into nothing in an instant.

When the echoes subsided, silence followed.

I lowered the pistol slightly and looked back at them.

Iriandor met my gaze, his expression tighter now. Not fear, but not dismissal anymore, either.

I turned back to the targets and fired again. Three quick shots.

Three more melons exploded in rapid succession.

I let the last echo fade, then lowered the weapon. Safety on. Magazine out. Chamber cleared.

Only then did I turn back to them.

“That,” I said, meeting Iriandor’s eyes, “is why I’m worried.”

* * *

Master Iriandor was still trying to track down the survivors of Noraethil. They’d scattered after the attack, drifting into nearby villages and towns, trying to rebuild something resembling a life.

He’d managed to gather a rough census from those he’d found - names, loose descriptions, fragments of family ties. It was slow work. Painfully slow.

Naevira was on the list.

She was a mother. A widow.

She’d lost her husband in the chaos after Urzan-Brak died. Lost both her children not long after - caught in an attack against something they couldn’t identify. A wolf-like thing with too many faces.

Mother Hunger.

Apparently Ashlara hadn’t completely stamped her out. The goddess of gluttony was still out there. Fragmented. Swarming. Weak enough that I hadn’t heard anything until now - but not gone.

A few of the survivors mentioned a human - a traveler passing through Noraethil a few days before the first Weeping Gallows appeared. He’d stood out - humans didn’t just wander through elven villages without reason. He stayed one night. Left the next morning.

That wasn’t what I expected.

I’d assumed the Covenant would send someone to monitor the Gallows. Watch them. Study them. But if he’d arrived before the first one even appeared…

Then they weren’t just observing. They were involved in their spread. Maybe even responsible.

The thought sat heavy in my gut.

Noraethil had been the first place I’d seen one of those living homes twisted into a Weeping Gallows. If the Covenant had been there beforehand… That wasn’t coincidence. That was design.

Which meant I needed to find them again. And I’d already destroyed the only lead I had.

I closed my eyes for a moment and let out a slow breath.

Idiot. I’d acted too fast. Too blunt. I needed to be smarter than this. Careful. Deliberate.

I needed a new lead.

Iriandor had checked some of the sites marked on the maps I’d taken from the pyramid. Not all - just the closest ones.

Each had Gallows. Not many - just two or three. Nothing like Noraethil. No full infestation. Not yet.

And there were no new Gallowborn in the abandoned village. At least, none they’d found.

That didn’t mean much. They could be hiding. Or already gone. Taken - folded into the Covenant’s ranks before anyone even realized they were missing.

Iriandor was still working through the rest of the sites, but there was only so much he could do. He was a Pathwarden in a small town, not the head of an army. His reach was limited.

He’d sent word up the chain. Asked for support. So far, what came back was… not enough.

I thanked him. Told him I’d be in touch, then left.

There was still too much to do.