Chapter 17: Cold Horizons

The cave felt smaller tonight, the walls closer, pressing in on Kael as he stared into the flickering fire. The same fire that had barely warmed his cold, empty soul in the past few days. He was surrounded by his group, yet felt entirely alone. A heavy silence blanketed the space, thick and suffocating. His siblings huddled by the warmth, heads down, eyes hollow, but none of them spoke. They didn't need to. The tragedy had already been spoken. Their mother was gone, the village was no more, and whatever future they had before them now seemed uncertain, slipping through their fingers like sand.

Lyra's boots crunched against the dirt as she shifted by the cave entrance, ready to step into the unknown once again. She had been the first to move after everything had happened, always ready to face whatever challenge lay ahead, but tonight, even her usual resolute attitude seemed tempered. She was trying, as always, to keep her emotions hidden behind that wall of strength she so easily wore. But Kael could see the cracks now—tiny, almost imperceptible, but enough for him to notice. Even Lyra, the one who had always been steadfast, was shaken.

"I'm going to scout the area," Lyra muttered, her voice quiet, and yet louder than the stillness that filled the cave. She didn't wait for a response before she slipped out into the cold night air, leaving Kael with his thoughts.

The fire crackled weakly as if it, too, was struggling to stay alive in the silence.

Dren, ever the quiet one, sat on the ground near the fire, his back resting against the stone wall. His fingers idly twirled a stick, pushing it into the ashes, only to pull it out again. He was clearly lost in thought, his gaze unfocused. Dren wasn't one for showing his emotions outwardly, but Kael could sense that the quiet boy had a lot on his mind, too.

"Didn't think I'd be seeing the day the village would be gone," Dren said finally, breaking the silence. His voice was soft, but the weight of his words hung in the air.

Kael didn't reply. He couldn't. He was too far gone, trapped in the web of his own thoughts, the sharp memories of their village's destruction swirling like a storm around him. He had been numb for days, but tonight it was worse. He felt himself pulling further away, the ache of losing his mother, the unresolved anger of the mercenaries' brutality, gnawing at him.

"Don't think it'll matter," Kael muttered, his voice detached, like a man speaking from a place far removed from reality. "It's just survival. Nothing more."

Dren didn't argue, though Kael could feel the weight of his eyes on him. But nothing came. No words of comfort, no encouragement. Dren knew better than to try to pull Kael from his shell, especially when it was becoming clear that Kael didn't want to be pulled out.

Lyra's departure didn't go unnoticed. Dren's gaze followed her briefly before he stood up. "I'll gather some firewood," he said, offering the first action he could think of, though it seemed a meaningless task in comparison to the scale of what had happened.

"Do what you want," Kael said without looking up. He could feel the anger welling inside him, but he buried it quickly. He wasn't going to let his emotions take over. Not here. Not now.

As Dren disappeared into the night, Kael was left alone in the cave, the silence growing more oppressive with each passing moment. His thoughts swirled like a violent storm in his mind—his mother's body, his father's absence, the mercenaries who had torn everything apart.

Why did it have to be like this?

Kael clenched his fists, his knuckles white. He knew why. Because the world didn't care. Life didn't care. It just kept going, indifferent to the pain and suffering of those who tried to fight it. He was just another soul in a broken world, and nothing would change that.

He forced himself to take a breath. It wasn't worth it. Emotions were distractions. They didn't change anything. They couldn't bring back what was lost. They couldn't fix the broken pieces of his life.

"Focus on survival," Kael whispered to himself, a cold mantra that helped him push the rage and the grief down into the deepest part of his heart. He would keep moving forward, even if it meant leaving behind everything he once cared about.

---

Lyra's footsteps returned to the cave long before Dren had returned with the firewood. Her expression was unreadable, but Kael knew enough to recognize the familiar glint of disappointment in her eyes. She had found nothing. Or worse, she had found something else—something that had shaken her further.

She didn't say anything at first. She simply dropped down beside the fire, not bothering to stoke it, letting the embers die on their own.

"I didn't find anything useful," she finally said, her tone low and flat, the spark in her voice extinguished.

Kael didn't answer. He was too tired to care.

"Kael," Lyra said again, softer this time. He didn't respond, but she continued. "You've been like this for days. I don't know how to reach you."

Kael's gaze flickered up to her, his expression cold. "You don't need to. We all have to do what we can to survive."

Lyra didn't flinch at his tone. Instead, she looked away, eyes fixed on the ground. She was trying so hard not to break down in front of him, but the cracks were showing, the exhaustion and hurt creeping through her defenses.

"You're shutting us out," Lyra said, her voice barely above a whisper. "You can't keep pushing us away. You need us. I need you."

Kael felt the weight of her words like a blow to his chest, but he couldn't let it in. He couldn't let anyone in. Not when everything felt like it was slipping through his fingers. He had already lost too much.

"I'm not some rock you can lean on," he snapped. "I'm not who I was before. I can't be that person anymore. And neither can you."

---

Dren returned soon after, his arms heavy with wood. He didn't speak at first, just stacked the branches by the fire and quietly began to stoke it back to life. The flicker of the flame cast shadows across his face, giving him an almost otherworldly look. His eyes, too, had a distant look in them, like he was just going through the motions, unsure of what else to do.

"I hope you found something useful," Kael said, the coldness creeping back into his voice.

Dren gave a half-shrug, setting the last of the wood down. "Nothing. Just the same as before."

Kael's shoulders tensed. "What's the point, then? It's all the same. No matter what we do, we're just running in circles."

Lyra's eyes narrowed at him, but she didn't say anything. Dren stayed quiet, his gaze drifting back to the fire.

The tension in the air was thick, like the entire world was waiting for something to happen. But nothing did. The night passed in uneasy silence, punctuated only by the crackling of the fire and the occasional shuffle of feet.

---

Hours later, the group settled into the makeshift camp they had established. The fire burned low, and Kael finally allowed himself to close his eyes. But sleep didn't come easily. Instead, he found himself staring at the ceiling of the cave, lost in the silence of the night. The images of the village, his mother's body, the burning ruins—all of it replayed in his mind over and over again, until he couldn't escape them.

But he wouldn't cry. Not anymore.

---

By morning, the fire had gone cold, and the cave was damp with the chill of the night air. Kael was awake first, though he hadn't slept. He rose quietly, his movements slow and deliberate. The group would need food, shelter, and warmth. He couldn't focus on anything else right now.

As he stepped out of the cave, he noticed Lyra and Dren already up, standing in the distance. Lyra was tying her boots, her face unreadable, while Dren stood staring out into the vast wilderness, deep in thought.

Kael turned his back to them and walked toward the forest, his thoughts still a blur of anger, guilt, and cold indifference. For now, he couldn't afford to think about anything other than survival. They would keep moving, one step at a time, and maybe—just maybe—he'd find a way to numb the pain.

But he wouldn't let anyone see it. Not yet. Not ever.