Ellara

The night stretched on in silence, save for the distant sounds of nocturnal creatures stirring beyond the canyon walls. The fire had burned low, casting only a faint amber glow over the rocky clearing where Calypsius and Ellara sat, each lost in their own thoughts.

For the first time in what felt like ages, there were no threats looming in the darkness, no monsters waiting just beyond the firelight. It was just them—two people bound by fate, struggling to find meaning in the chaos that had led them here.

Ellara broke the silence first. "You know, for someone who wasn't even born in this world, you handle yourself like you were."

Calypsius smirked, stretching out his legs as he leaned back on his hands. "Is that a compliment or an insult?"

She shrugged, a teasing glint in her eyes. "Maybe a little of both."

He chuckled, shaking his head. "I guess survival doesn't care what world you're from. Either you adapt, or you don't make it."

Ellara studied him for a moment before speaking again. "You've done more than just adapt, though. Most people wouldn't have lasted a day after what you went through with the Grimkin. But you… you found a way to keep going."

Calypsius exhaled slowly, his gaze flickering toward the fire. "I had to. There wasn't another option."

A beat of silence passed between them before Ellara spoke again, softer this time. "But do you ever think about it? The life you left behind?"

He hesitated. He rarely allowed himself to think about home—about what might have been waiting for him if things had gone differently. The past felt like a dream, something distant and untouchable, but in moments like this, when the world around him was quiet, it crept back in.

"Yeah," he admitted, voice lower now. "Not a day goes by that I don't wonder if there was another version of me that made it out of that cave. Someone who never woke up in this world, who never had to fight to stay alive."

Ellara looked down, tracing small patterns into the dirt beside her. "I can't imagine what that must feel like… To have lost everything in an instant."

He glanced at her, noticing the way her expression had darkened slightly. "You've lost things too," he said. It wasn't a question.

She let out a quiet laugh, but there was no humor in it. "Yeah. But not like you. I grew up knowing loss was inevitable. You… you had no warning."

Calypsius wasn't sure how to respond to that. Instead, he let the silence settle between them again.

For a long while, neither of them spoke. The fire crackled softly, the night air crisp but not unkind. Without thinking, Calypsius reached for a small stone and tossed it between his hands, needing something to do.

Ellara tilted her head. "You always do that when you're thinking."

He looked down at the stone. "Do what?"

"Fidget." She nodded toward his hands. "When you're restless, you mess with something—your sword, a stone, whatever's in reach."

He frowned slightly, as if just now noticing it himself. "Old habit, I guess."

Ellara smirked. "You should be careful. I might start being able to read you too well."

Calypsius raised an eyebrow. "Oh? And what would that mean for me?"

She tapped a finger against her temple, feigning deep thought. "Hmm… Well, I could use it against you in battle. Predict your every move. Maybe even get you to admit things before you're ready."

He chuckled. "Dangerous skill."

"Very," she agreed, grinning.

It was a small thing—this teasing, this exchange of words—but it felt significant. It was different from the urgency of battle, from the survival-driven decisions they had been making. This was something else. A growing understanding, a partnership that was becoming something deeper, even if neither of them was quite ready to name it.

Ellara yawned, stretching her arms over her head before lying back onto the cool ground. "We should get some sleep," she said, closing her eyes. "We have a long road ahead."

Calypsius watched her for a moment, then nodded. "Yeah. You're right."

He leaned back as well, resting one arm behind his head while the other remained loosely curled around Valenyr's hilt. The stars above stretched endlessly, distant and unfamiliar, yet oddly comforting.

As his eyelids grew heavy, he heard Ellara's voice—softer now, almost lost in the night.

"You're not alone in this, Calypsius."

Something in his chest tightened, but he didn't respond. Instead, he let those words settle in, warming him against the cold of the night.

For the first time in a long while, he allowed himself to believe them.