The Edge of Ildenor

Chapter 12: The Edge of Ildenor

The ruins of Ildenor loomed ahead, half-shrouded in mist. From where they stood at the edge of the forest, Lucian could just make out the crumbling towers and broken walls that stretched out before them, remnants of a once-great city now swallowed by time and nature. The stones of Ildenor, worn smooth by centuries of wind and rain, seemed almost to glow in the fading light of the day, as though they held secrets waiting to be uncovered.

Lucian stopped in his tracks, his eyes scanning the ruins. "We'll rest here for the night," he said, his voice firm. "It's too dangerous to go any further without proper rest."

Alara glanced at him, her face pale from the exhaustion that had set in after the long journey and their battle with the creatures. She nodded, though she said nothing, her gaze drifting to the ruins. There was something about the way she looked at them, a mixture of awe and something else, something darker.

Lucian chose to ignore it for now. He had his own demons to contend with.

The forest around them was dense, but they managed to find a small clearing just off the main path, close enough to the ruins that they would reach them quickly in the morning, but far enough that they were hidden from view. The fire they built crackled softly in the night, casting long shadows on the trees and stone walls nearby.

---

That night, after the fight, they sat by the fire in silence, the crackling flames casting flickering shadows on their tired faces. The warmth was a relief from the cold, and the fire kept any lurking creatures at bay. Lucian stared into the flames, his thoughts distant, but Alara's presence beside him felt less like a burden now, more like… something else.

He glanced at her. She was sitting quietly, her legs pulled close to her chest, her eyes fixed on the fire. The dim light softened the sharp edges of her face, and for a brief moment, Lucian could see the exhaustion in her—layers of pain and survival that mirrored his own. Maybe that was why he had kept her around, why he hadn't left her behind when he had the chance. They were both running from something, both scarred by the world in ways that only people like them could understand.

Alara broke the silence first. "You haven't said much since we left the clearing."

Lucian shifted, his gaze dropping from the flames to the ground. He wasn't used to talking. At least, not like this.

"Not much to say," he muttered, though even as he said it, he knew it wasn't entirely true. Something about the stillness of the night, the quiet between them, made him want to talk. Or maybe it was the fight—how she had saved him, how they had fought together—that made him feel like, for once, he could trust someone.

Alara watched him closely, but didn't push. She let the silence hang between them, letting him take his time.

After a long pause, Lucian sighed and ran a hand through his hair, feeling the weight of everything pressing down on him. The prophecy, the mark, the endless running. It was exhausting.

"I wasn't always like this," he said quietly, surprising even himself with the admission.

Alara didn't respond, but her gaze softened, and she waited, her posture calm and patient.

Lucian stared at the flames, the memories surfacing despite his best efforts to bury them. "I had a family once. A village. A life that was simple... quiet." He shook his head slightly, as if the idea itself felt foreign now. "But then the comet came. And with it, everything changed. The priests called it fate. Said I was marked for something—something dark."

He instinctively touched the spot on his chest where the mark burned beneath his clothes. It was quiet now, but it was always there, a constant reminder of what he was supposed to become.

"I left before they could cast me out. Figured it was better that way. Better to disappear than let them fear me." His voice trailed off, a mixture of bitterness and regret lingering in the air.

Alara was quiet, her eyes thoughtful. "I never thought of fate as something that could be escaped," she said softly. "But you... you're trying, aren't you?"

Lucian let out a small, humorless laugh. "I don't know what I'm doing anymore. Ildenor might have the answers, or it might just be another dead end. All I know is that I'm not going to let the world decide for me. Not anymore."

Alara shifted slightly, her gaze steady. "I understand. More than you think."

Lucian glanced at her, his eyes searching hers for something—some hint of the truth behind her words. She hadn't shared much about herself, but in that moment, he saw the same resolve in her eyes that he felt inside himself. Maybe she did understand. Maybe that was why they had crossed paths.

"It's strange," he admitted, his voice softer now. "I never thought I'd be sitting by a fire, talking like this. Not after everything."

Alara gave him a small smile, a flicker of warmth in her eyes. "Sometimes, talking makes things easier. Even if it doesn't change anything."

Lucian looked away, his gaze returning to the flames. He didn't say anything, but her words lingered. Talking hadn't been part of his plan, but it had helped. For a brief moment, the weight he had been carrying felt a little lighter.

The fire crackled on, the warmth enveloping them as they sat in companionable silence. Lucian found himself relaxing, the tension that had coiled inside him slowly unwinding. He wasn't sure what tomorrow would bring, or what they would find at the ruins of Ildenor, but for now, he was content to sit by the fire, the quiet night stretching out before them.

And for the first time in a long while, he didn't feel so alone.

---

As the night deepened, Lucian's thoughts wandered back to the ruins ahead. He had felt the pull of Ildenor ever since he had been marked by the comet, but now that they were so close, uncertainty gnawed at him. The mark on his chest pulsed faintly, as though it, too, could sense the proximity of something powerful. He wondered, not for the first time, what kind of magic still lingered in the ruins and whether it could offer the answers he sought.

But there was a heaviness in the air tonight, a sense of foreboding that he couldn't shake.

Tomorrow, they would enter Ildenor. Whatever secrets the ruins held, they were almost within reach. And Lucian couldn't help but wonder if he and Alara would emerge unchanged—or if, like so many before them, they would be swallowed by the shadows of the past.