Interlude – Ash Between Stars

Crownless King: The Heir of the Forgotten Throne

Interlude – Ash Between Stars

It's been three days since the catastrophic fall of Sanctum Prime.

The landscape was stark and desolate. There were no signs of cities bustling with life, no warlocks weaving their powerful spells, and the air was devoid of the haunting screams that normally accompanied conflict. Instead, all that surrounded them was a vast expanse of stone, an unrelenting wind, and a profound silence that felt almost sacred.

The Hollow Windlands lay in the embrace of oblivion, almost forgotten by the world. Jagged spires of broken rock thrust upward, piercing the clouds overhead, creating a surreal skyline where the stars appeared unnaturally close, as if they were within reach, just above the craggy ground below.

A makeshift camp had been established near the ruins of a shattered ley-shard, a once-powerful conduit of magic now reduced to fragments of its former glory. Kael, Seris, and Tarin took refuge in this desolate place, employing ancient memory-warding stones to cloak their presence from prying eyes. There was no fire flickering to life, no technology humming softly in the background—just the enveloping shadows and the heavy thrum of restless thoughts crowding their minds.

The night settled in, still and oppressive, a shroud of darkness that seemed to weigh down upon them.

Tarin succumbed to exhaustion first, finding solace against the remnants of a collapsed rune-arch, his breathing deepening into the light sounds of slumber, soft snores escaping him as he drifted into dreams.

Seris occupied herself cross-legged atop a fractured outcrop of stone, her blades sheathed and resting at her side, with her head tilted skyward, gazing into the majestic vault of stars unspooled above her like a shimmering tapestry.

Kael approached her quietly, the sound of his footsteps nearly muted by the persistent wind. He held two cracked, weathered cups filled with a fragrant herbal brew that steamed gently in the cold night air. The bitter liquid was no delight to the palate, but they both yearned for the warmth of something to clutch in their hands—something that provided a fleeting sanctuary from the gnawing guilt and the cold absence of fire.

Without exchanging a single word, Seris accepted the cup, her fingers brushing against his, and they settled into a companionable silence, each lost in their own contemplative thoughts.

After a time, Kael broke the stillness, his voice low and laced with concern:

"She's still in your head, isn't she?"

Seris didn't need to clarify who he meant. She made no pretense to deflect the question, no attempts at obfuscation.

"Every second," she replied, her voice barely a whisper, yet heavy with the gravity of her admission.

As she sipped the brew slowly, her gaze remained fixed on the heavens, the shimmering constellations illuminating the depths of her thoughts.

"Elira wasn't meant to survive the culling. I begged her to hide. To wait for me, I said."

Kael studied her intently, feeling the shifts in the cadence of her voice that revealed the vulnerability she usually kept well-guarded.

"I was only thirteen years old. Elira was just ten. And I was foolish enough to believe—that if I could run fast enough, if I could become strong enough, I would return for her."

The shadows closed around them as she squeezed her eyes shut, shutting out the stars momentarily.

"But instead of growing stronger, I grew silent. I learned how to kill. I learned how to vanish into the shadows. I taught myself to lie so well that I believed my own fabrications."

A tense moment passed between them, heavy with unsaid truths.

Finally, she breathed out:

"But what I never learned was how to forgive myself."

Kael chose to remain silent, allowing her words to linger in the air, suspended like sacred glass, fragile yet profound.

After a lengthy pause, he ventured to ask:

"When did you realize it was her?"

A bitter smile formed on Seris's lips, one that felt more like a wound than a grin.

"The instant she chose not to kill me."

"No Hollow Marcher hesitates unless there's a name buried beneath the surface," Kael added, his tone steady and knowingly.

Taking a deliberate breath, Kael leaned in, his expression firm yet gentle.

"She remembered you," he stated, as if casting a spell of certainty into the twilight between them.

Seris let out a soft, hollow laugh, one that echoed with pain.

"She remembered the part of her that hated me."

Kael turned to her fully, his voice dipped low, earnest in its conviction.

"That's not true."

Their gazes locked, and for the first time, Seris really saw him—not just the steadfast companion, but the man who understood the fire concealed beneath her steadfast exterior. The storm of emotions that relentlessly churned within her.

"You're not responsible for what they turned her into," Kael urged fervently.

Seris tightened her grip around the fragile cup.

"Am I not?" she questioned, anguish cracking her voice. "What if I'd fought harder? What if I hadn't run away? What if the other sister hadn't been the one to survive?"

Kael leaned in a touch closer, his voice fierce but low to avoid shattering the fragile calm of the night.

"Don't ever say that again."

Her eyes flickered to him.

"Because if you hadn't survived—Elira would've been left to wander the darkness alone. Forever."

Seris's expression shifted, her defenses faltering slightly as she soaked in his words.

"And now she isn't. Now she remembers. Because you were there," he reaffirmed gently.

The silence that enveloped them then felt profoundly different.

It was no longer cold or devoid of meaning; it was rich with something more potent than words could express—a connection tempered by shared pain and slow-burning hope.

Seris, finally looking away again, directed her gaze toward the vast night sky.

"I used to dream about the stars—of soaring between them, of forging a skyship and escaping into the infinite cosmos before the world had a chance to hurt me again."

Kael's lips curved into a faint, encouraging smile. "That dream is still within reach," he replied.

"Yeah, it is," she acquiesced, her tone more resolute now. "But it's not about running anymore. Now, I want to ensure Elira sees those stars too."

As dawn began to stretch its fingers across the horizon, the tranquil atmosphere was disturbed by Tarin stirring from his cocoon of sleep, his voice thick with grogginess. "Did either of you even sleep?" he muttered, his eyes barely blinking open.

Kael replied, "Not yet."

Seris shrugged nonchalantly, "Didn't really need to."

Tarin groaned and shook his head. "Well, if that's the case, then both of you are insane."

Their laughter was brief but precious, a fleeting flicker of warmth shared between the three of them.

Yet beneath that small gesture of camaraderie lay something much deeper—

A promise of forgiveness.

A resilient resolve.

A bond of family.

Final Lines – As the Sun Rises

Kael stood resolutely at the edge of the cliff as the first golden light began to break the grip of the clouds above, washing the landscape in a warm, hopeful glow. He could feel the gentle hum of the First Flame at his back, a reminder of the power coursing through him. The crown upon his head pulsed in rhythm with his measured breaths, a steady reminder of responsibility and leadership.

In the stillness, he heard Seris's voice break through the dawn's silence.

"What now?" she inquired softly.

Kael turned slightly, embracing the weight of their choices, his answer coming out softly yet firmly.

"Now we stop waiting for them to strike."

He stepped forward, determination igniting in his chest.

"Now we bring the storm."

-End Of Side Story-