chapter 10:a whisper of ashes.

Here's a refined and expanded version of Chapter 10, now brought to over 1,000 words with stronger emotional beats, character motivations, and thematic weight:

The cottage was smaller than Bravae remembered. Worn shutters clung to the windows like old eyelids, and the vines that once climbed the walls had withered into brown, brittle threads. He hadn't been here in years—not since the raids had made this side of town nearly uninhabitable.

He hesitated at the threshold, unsure if he was ready for what lay beyond.

"Symphimi?" he called softly.

The voice that answered was thin, barely a whisper. "Is that you, little ghost?"

Bravae's throat tightened. He stepped inside, and the dim light filtering through cracked wood revealed the fragile figure of his aunt, lying atop a straw mattress covered in patchwork quilts. Her once vibrant hair had thinned, graying at the edges, and her skin looked paper-dry.

He knelt beside her, taking her frail hand. "I'm here now."

"You said… you would come sooner." Her lips barely moved. "I waited. I kept thinking—maybe tomorrow."

"I was... caught up," he said, a lie pressing against his teeth. "I was trying to find help. Medicine."

She studied him with those weary but wise eyes. Maybe she didn't believe him, but she nodded anyway. "It doesn't matter. You're here."

He spent the next hour tending to her as best he could, wiping sweat from her brow and adjusting her pillows. The room smelled of dry herbs, dust, and something darker—rot, perhaps. She didn't have long.

As the sun dipped lower, Symphimi stirred and reached beneath her pillow. From the folds of cloth, she withdrew a thin chain with a pendant, shaped like a crescent moon. "This belonged to your mother," she said. "I meant to give it to you long ago."

Bravae took it carefully, letting the cool metal rest against his palm. The weight of it struck him harder than expected.

"Thank you," he murmured.

She clutched his wrist suddenly. "Stay, Bravae. Just for tonight."

He almost said yes. But the fever burning in her skin, the weakness in her voice—it wasn't just age. She needed medicine. Real medicine. Not the bark and water she'd been living on.

"I'll be back," he said, standing. "Before moonrise. I promise."

She watched him with hollow eyes as he left. It felt like walking away from a memory already fading.

Bravae made his way down the sloping lane of cobbled stone. The evening air smelled of smoke and damp hay. Just past the bend near the mill, he saw someone leaning against a crooked fence post.

"Bravae?" the figure called out.

The voice was unmistakable.

"Larwan?" Bravae blinked, uncertain. A close friend of his, he had known larwan since he was a child,he and larwan had delivered hay to the braunian castle many times, it was actually larwan who gave him the information he needed to Rob the castle.

So if anyone would suspect him it would be larwan.

"I thought that was you," Larwan said, clasping his hand. "Saints, it's been what, 1 month since we last met at the pub

"2 months actually," Bravae said cautiously. "You haven't changed much."

Larwan laughed. "Neither have you. Still skulking around corners like you're about to steal something."

Bravae smirked despite himself. "I remember someone who taught me how to climb the castle walls."

"That someone must have been very stupid," Larwan chuckled. "And incredibly charming."

They stood in silence for a moment before Bravae added, "I'm looking for medicine. My aunt is... worse than I thought."

Larwan's face shifted, sympathy flickering across his features. "Then you're in luck. My mother's a healer now. She keeps a full apothecary behind our house. Come with me—I'll take you."

Bravae hesitated, but Larwan clapped a hand on his back and started down the side road. "It's not far."

The alley they turned into was narrower than he expected, shadows pooling around garbage bins and broken crates. A cat hissed and darted past. Bravae's nerves prickled.

"This the right way?" he asked.

"Yeah," Larwan said. "Just a little further."

They stopped at a stone wall. No doors, no side paths. Just moss-covered stone.

Bravae turned. "Larwan—?"

Something sharp jabbed into his back. He staggered forward, spinning just in time to see two soldiers in dark Braunian armor emerge from the shadows.

"No," he growled, fists clenching. "No—!"

One soldier lunged; Bravae caught him with a solid punch to the jaw, sending the man stumbling. But the second slammed a baton into the back of his knee, dropping him to the cobbles with a grunt.

"Run!" Bravae shouted to Larwan, not yet admitting the betrayal blooming in his gut.

But Larwan didn't run. He just stood there, fists clenched at his sides.

"I'm sorry," he said, voice barely above the wind. "They found me. Weeks ago. I didn't have a choice."

Bravae stared up at him, dazed, heart pounding. "You bastard."

The soldiers dragged him upright, twisting his arms behind his back and shackling him. He didn't resist—not anymore. What was the point?

"You sold me out," Bravae whispered as they shoved him forward.

Larwan didn't follow. He only watched, eyes glossy with guilt.

As Bravae was shoved into the back of the Braunian vehicle, the engine rumbling to life beneath him, he caught one last glimpse of the alley—the crumbling stone, the flicker of torchlight, the silhouette of a friend who had betrayed him.

The doors slammed shut.

Inside the vehicle, Bravae leaned back against the cold wall and closed his eyes. His wrists burned where the cuffs cut into skin. The necklace lay hidden in his tunic, still warm from Symphimi's hand.

He would survive this. He had to.

For Symphimi. For his mother. For the truth.

And if fate was cruel enough to bring him back to Braunian stone and chains, then so be it.

He'd break them from inside.