The Fire That Remains

The Silence After Loss

The battlefield was still.

Not the calm before a storm. Not the eerie stillness of a trap.

Just… silence.

The kind that swallowed everything whole.

The Rift had closed. Nathaniel Cross was gone.

And the world felt emptier for it.

Ethan knelt on the cracked ground, his hands curled into fists, fingers trembling. His golden-shadow aura flickered weakly around him, unstable, uncertain—as if it reflected the hollow feeling inside his chest.

Selene knelt beside him, placing a hand on his shoulder. Her grip was firm, grounding. She needed to hold him together. Because she knew exactly what he was feeling.

Because she had just lost him, too.

The others stood at a respectful distance. They wanted to say something, to offer comfort, but there were no words for this kind of loss.

Mia, always quick with a sharp remark, said nothing. Her hands clenched at her sides, her nails digging into her palms.