Chapter 29: Aftermath

Joren stood at the river's edge, staring at the empty space where the bridge had once stood. The mist had begun to recede, revealing nothing but the churning waters beneath. The weight of what had been lost pressed against his chest. Lyria was gone. The bridge was gone. And now, only silence remained.

Behind him, the Caldrisian soldiers stood uneasily. Some still clutched their weapons, as though expecting the Velmorans to emerge from the fog, ready for battle. Others exchanged uncertain glances, waiting for Joren to speak. Thalric stood closest, his arms crossed, his expression unreadable.

"They'll blame you for this," Thalric murmured. "You realize that, don't you?"

Joren let out a breath. "They can blame me all they want. I'll give them something else to talk about soon enough."

Thalric gave a dry laugh. "That's what I'm afraid of."

The journey back to Caldris was slow. The soldiers whispered amongst themselves, but no one dared confront Joren directly. When they arrived at the city gates, the news had already spread. The bridge had fallen. The curse was lifted. And Joren had survived where others had not.

The High Council summoned him at once.

Joren stood before the council chamber, facing the row of aging lords and advisors who had long dictated Caldris's future. His father, Lord Edran, sat at the center, his sharp gaze weighing him like a hammer poised above an anvil.

"You have destroyed the bridge," Edran said, his voice level but edged with steel. "Do you even understand what you've done?"

Joren met his father's gaze without flinching. "I ended the curse."

"And in doing so, severed the only connection we had to Velmora," another councilman said. "A connection that has stood for generations."

Joren laughed bitterly. "A connection forged in blood and hatred. You call it a bridge, but it was a battlefield."

Murmurs rippled through the chamber. His father's expression remained unreadable. "What would you have us do, then? Extend our hands to the Velmorans in peace?"

"Yes."

The word hung in the air like a blade.

Edran's fingers drummed against the armrest of his chair. "You would have us forget centuries of war?"

"No," Joren said. "But I would have us stop repeating them."

Meanwhile, in Velmora, the loss of the bridge sent shockwaves through their own council chambers.

Eira stood before the gathered elders, her voice steady but firm. "Lyria's sacrifice was not in vain. She sought to free us from the cycle we've been trapped in for centuries. She did what none of us dared to do—she changed the story."

"Changed it to what?" one of the elders demanded. "The bridge is gone. What will take its place? More war? More isolation?"

A young scholar named Cassian stepped forward, his eyes alight with something that was neither fear nor fury. "Perhaps something new."

The elders turned to him. He hesitated but did not falter. "We know the bridge was not just stone. It was built on something deeper—something ancient. If the curse has been undone, then perhaps it can be studied. Understood."

"You would have us send scholars to Caldris?" another elder scoffed. "You would trust them?"

Cassian nodded. "Would they trust us? We don't know. But I'd rather find out than spend another century waiting for war."

Back in Caldris, Joren found himself an unwelcome figure in his own home. People whispered in the streets when he passed. Some called him a traitor. Others merely looked at him with wariness, as if he had returned from the bridge as something other.

Even Thalric kept his distance.

"You're making this harder than it has to be," Thalric said one evening, when Joren had found himself back at the river's edge, watching the water shift in the moonlight.

Joren sighed. "You think I should just let it go."

"I think you should be careful." Thalric rubbed a hand over his face. "The people aren't ready for this, Joren. They don't want to hear about peace."

"That's because they don't know anything else," Joren said. "But I do. And I refuse to pretend otherwise."

Thalric was quiet for a long moment before he exhaled sharply. "Then you'd better find a way to make them listen."

Joren did not wait for the council's approval. He sent messages in secret, reaching out to those within Velmora who were willing to listen.

To his surprise, an answer came. A letter, marked with the seal of Velmora's scholars, arrived in the dead of night.

Cassian's words were short, but they carried weight:

We are willing to talk. But not as enemies. Not as rulers. As people.

Joren held the letter tightly, the ink smudging slightly under his fingers. It wasn't much. But it was something.

He turned his gaze back to the river. The bridge was gone. But a new path was beginning to form.