A week had passed since their return to the capital.
The Heroes Guild had settled into an uneasy rhythm training drills in the yard, quiet evenings in the common room, the distant sound of blades meeting and laughter echoing off stone walls. Vael had tried, every day, to recall Miraleth.
The common room did not help.
Gruk had claimed a long table near the hearth as his personal court. From dawn until the lanterns were lit, his voice rolled through the chamber crude jests, bawdy tales, outrageous exaggerations of battles he had never fought. Darius and Kufa sat with him most evenings, laughing until their faces reddened, the sound bouncing off high rafters and stone until it doubled, tripled, filled every corner like an unwelcome tide.
Vael sat in the far corner, back to the wall, eyes half-closed, trying to remember.
Miraleth.
The name had lodged in his mind like a splinter. He could feel it something from his second life, a temple vision, a prophecy spoken under starlight but the shape of it refused to come clear. Every time he reached for the memory, Gruk's next filthy punchline rang out, Darius slapped the table, Kufa howled, and the echo swallowed the thought whole.
The laughter drowned him.
He rose without a word.
The door closed softly behind him.
Outside, the night air was cool and sharp. The streets of the capital lay quiet under a sky turning from indigo to black. Vael walked without direction, boots making no sound on the cobblestones. He found a stone bench beneath an old lantern-post, sat, then after a moment stretched out fully, arms behind his head.
He stared up at the sky.
It was almost night now. The first stars had begun to appear, faint and distant.
He was tired not the weariness of the body, but something deeper, older. The kind that had settled into his bones across three lives and refused to leave.
His eyes drifted closed.
When they opened again, the sky had changed.
Stars shone bright and cold above him. The lantern had dimmed to a soft amber glow.
A soft voice broke the silence.
"Ah um… you're awake."
Vael turned his head.
Elara stood a few paces away, white robes catching the faint lantern light. Her silver-blonde hair was loose tonight, stirred gently by the night breeze. She looked down at him, expression soft, uncertain.
Vael sat up slowly.
"What are you doing here?" he asked.
She tilted her head, a small smile touching her lips.
"Can't I be here?"
Vael felt the corner of his own mouth lift almost against his will.
Elara stepped closer and settled on the edge of the bench beside him.
"I saw you lying here," she said quietly. "You slept for almost two hours. I thought… there are pickpockets and thieves in a city like this. I couldn't wake you. So I stayed."
Vael regarded her for a long moment.
"Well," he said at last, voice low, "thank you for watching over me."
She looked down at her hands, then back at him.
"Actually… I should thank you. For saving me back there. On the road."
Vael replied
"I would have done it for anyone."
She smiled small, sad, understanding.
Elara studied his profile a moment longer, the faint starlight tracing the quiet lines of exhaustion on his face. She opened her mouth as though to say something more, but footsteps approached from the street light, hurried.
Beatrice appeared first, robes slightly askew from running, breath visible in the cool night air. Aamon followed a pace behind, cloak settling around him like spilled shadow.
"There you are, Elara," Beatrice called, relief and exasperation mingling in her voice. "We've been searching half the district for you."
She glanced at Vael, then back at Elara, before turning fully to Aamon. Her tone shifted direct, almost commanding, the way a woman speaks when she has decided something and will not be gainsaid.
"Come," she said to him, voice firm but not unkind. "We should return soon. It's late, and you've been out long enough. Don't linger here."
Aamon regarded her without expression.
Elara rose gracefully from the bench.
"Good night, Vael," she said softly, offering him a small, genuine smile. "Rest well."
Vael inclined his head.
"Good night."
As the two women turned to leave, Aamon lingered a moment longer. He bowed low, formal, the gesture carrying the weight of old habit.
"My king," he murmured, voice low enough that only Vael could hear. "I did not mean to disturb your solitude. That woman… she kept insisting I accompany her. She is most persistent."
Vael's mouth twitched almost a smile, almost weary.
"Stop calling me king," he said quietly. "I am no king."
He leaned back against the bench
"What did Gruk feed you?"
Aamon straightened, expression unchanging,
Vael glanced at him sidelong.
"So tell me how far have you two come? Beatrice and you. Any plans ahead?"
Aamon's face tightened at the mention of her name annoyance flickering across features that usually remained impassive.
"She speaks without pause," he said, voice flat. "Endlessly. About everything and nothing. It is… exhausting."
Vael let out a soft breath almost a laugh.
"Yet you did not walk away."
Aamon was silent for a long moment.
"I did not," he admitted at last.
Vael watched them go until the sound of Beatrice's voice faded into the night.
Elara did not turn back.
But she slowed.
Just slightly.
Enough that the distance between her and the others grew by a step… then another.
Beatrice didn't notice.
Aamon did but said nothing.
Elara's fingers tightened lightly against the fabric of her sleeve.
She didn't know why she had stayed.
That was the truth.
She had seen him lying there alone, unmoving beneath the dim lantern and something in her chest had pulled her closer before her mind could catch up.
He had looked… tired.
Not injured.
Not weak.
Just… tired.
And somehow, that had felt more fragile than anything else she had seen on the battlefield.
She had faced monsters.
She had healed wounds that should have meant death.
She had stood in the middle of chaos and never once hesitated.
But watching him sleep
She had not been able to leave.
Her steps slowed again.
Beatrice's voice faded slightly ahead.
Elara lowered her gaze.
His words echoed quietly in her mind.
"I would have done it for anyone."
She smiled.
Small.
Faint.
A little bitter.
"I know," she whispered to herself.
That was exactly the problem.
He would.
For anyone.
Without hesitation.
Without thought.
Without seeing the difference.
Her chest tightened just slightly.
She placed a hand over her heart, as if to steady something there.
It wasn't pain.
Not quite.
Something quieter.
Something she didn't fully understand yet.
She exhaled slowly.
Behind her, far down the street, the faint glow of the lantern still marked where he remained.
She didn't turn back.
Not this time.
But her thoughts lingered there.
Back at the bench, Vael lay beneath the open sky.
The stars stretched endlessly above himcold, distant, unchanged.
The city breathed quietly around him, unaware, unconcerned.
He closed his eyes.
And for the first time in days
There was no noise.
No laughter.
No voices.
Just silence.
To be continued.