Even Shadows Weep

The fire had gone out.

Not the kind you see in torches or battlefields—but the fire inside.

Lucien sat alone under the pale blue light of dawn, her cloak soaked from dew, eyes locked on nothing. The others were still asleep, curled in whatever safety sleep could offer.

She couldn't rest.

Not after what the book whispered.

Not after what she saw in Vaelen's aura—that pain, that heartbreak, that echo of someone who once believed in something.

Her fingers hovered over the page that showed his name. Vaelen Noctros.

Beneath it, another line had appeared.

"Even the reaper once begged to be spared."

Lucien swallowed hard.

The book didn't offer answers—just riddles stitched with sadness.

Behind her, Mira stirred. "You're up early."

Lucien didn't turn. "Didn't sleep."

Mira dragged herself beside her, blanket still around her shoulders. "Dream again?"

"No. Memory." She closed the book. "But not mine."

They sat in silence.

Until Lucien whispered, "What do you think he lost?"

Mira blinked. "Who?"

"Vaelen."

Mira sighed. "You can see it too, huh? The sadness under all that godlike power?"

Lucien nodded. "He's not just cruel. He's… broken."

Mira hesitated, then said quietly, "I think he loved someone. Someone who made him want to fix everything. And when he failed…"

"He stopped fixing," Lucien finished. "And started burning."

A breeze rolled past, lifting the edge of the book.

A folded paper fluttered out—old, almost transparent, lined in soft pink and purple aura.

Lucien opened it.

The writing was jagged. Burnt at the edges. A poem written like a goodbye that never got the chance to be said.

"I loved you loud, and you left me quiet…

I gave you peace, but you craved the riot…"

Mira leaned over, reading it with her.

They didn't speak. Not for a long time.

Then Mira whispered, "You ever wonder if we'll end up like that?"

Lucien didn't answer. Her hands were shaking.

"…You said forever—I carved it in stone.

Funny how promises crumble alone."

Lucien folded the letter again. Gently.

Then said, "We're not him."

Mira smiled—sad but true. "Let's make sure of it."

The fire inside her still burned.

But this time, it burned soft.

And somewhere in a cracked dimension, Vaelen sat in silence… watching the memory drift from his fingers like ash.

The fire was low. Just embers now.

They sat in a loose circle outside the ruins, surrounded by jagged stone and broken silence. The stars above blinked behind slow-moving clouds, and the wind smelled like old ash and coming rain.

Lucien rested with her back against a rock, eyes closed. Not asleep—just… quiet.

Mira poked the fire with a stick, watching the sparks rise like memories.

Jonas lay flat on his back, chewing on a piece of dry meat he claimed was "definitely not cursed."

Krane kept watch, always facing the dark.

Elias came back from a short walk, tossing down a small satchel of berries. "They're probably safe," he said. "Or they're deadly. Either way, adventure."

Lucien cracked one eye open. "Great. We die from salad."

No one laughed loud. Just a few tired chuckles.

Until Mira said softly, "Do you think we're doing the right thing?"

Silence.

Krane didn't look back. "Right doesn't exist out here. Just choices. And what they cost."

Jonas muttered, "Well, mine cost me a spine and two relationships."

Lucien added, "Mine cost me… everything else."

Elias sat down beside Mira. "What brought that question on?"

She stared into the fire.

"That guy—Vaelen Noctros. He said something back there. About doors we open, and who'll close them when we fall."

She hesitated. "What if he's right? What if we're just ripping open wounds we don't know how to heal?"

Lucien looked at her. "You're scared."

Mira nodded. "Aren't you?"

Lucien didn't answer right away.

Then quietly, "Every damn day."

Dave looked up at the stars. "Funny. I used to think surviving was enough. But now I want more. Peace, maybe. A future."

Krane finally spoke again. "Then we fight for it. And if the cost is high…"

He turned, face grim but steady. "We pay it together."

A long pause followed.

The fire cracked.

Then, from inside Lucien's pack… a soft glow.

The Shaman Book pulsed faintly.

Lucien pulled it free—and it opened by itself.

A single page. New glyphs.

A new location.

No words. Just a jagged map marked in red, leading to a ruined valley carved with runes of warning.

Lucien's throat tightened. "This one feels different."

Mira stood. Her voice low. "That's because it is."

Jonas sighed. "Why is it never a beach trip?"

Elias rose too. "We move at dawn."

The fire dimmed.

But the fear stayed awake.

Waiting.