They made camp beneath the boughs of a dead tree, its limbs reaching toward the sky like brittle fingers. The fire crackled between them, neither speaking, both too proud to break the silence first.
Evren sat with one leg stretched out, sharpening his blade with methodical strokes. The sound was steady, unyielding. His eyes flicked to Kaelion once, but the prince was gazing into the fire like it held answers.
"You freeze up every time the magic flares," Evren finally said. "It's going to get you killed."
"I'm still learning," Kaelion replied, voice low.
"Learn faster."
Kaelion's eyes narrowed, not at the insult, but at the truth buried in it.
"You think I'm weak?"
"I think you've been protected so long you forgot how to fight without being the center of every battle."
The words landed hard.
Kaelion stood, pacing a little. "You forget I've survived things you haven't even dreamed of."
Evren leaned back, tossing his blade into the dirt beside him. "Then stop walking around like every bruise is a tragedy. You're not glass, Your Highness."
Kaelion stopped. His back was tense.
"If I were anyone else, would you speak to me like this?"
"If you were anyone else," Evren said, "I wouldn't still be here."
Silence again. But not cold. Not this time.
Kaelion sat down across from him, gaze unwavering. "You're not bound to me by choice. I get that. But if we're going to survive this, you'll have to trust me."
Evren looked away. "Trust isn't the problem."
"Then what is?"
Evren didn't answer.
Because even he didn't know.
The night dragged on.
Evren couldn't sleep. He stared at the stars peeking through the bare tree limbs, thinking about how far from home he felt—despite being in his own kingdom.
Across the fire, Kaelion shifted. Awake too.
"You have scars," the prince said quietly, voice stripped of its usual edge.
Evren didn't move. "So?"
"Did they all come from war?"
Evren snorted. "Some came from war. Others from living."
Kaelion sat up slowly. "Tell me about one."
Evren turned his head, finally looking at him. "Why?"
"Because I need to understand the people I fight beside."
Evren hesitated.
Then, finally, he pulled his shirt back to reveal a faded scar over his ribs. "Arrow. A boy no older than twelve shot me while I was helping his village. Thought I was one of the soldiers who burned it."
Kaelion stared at the mark. "And what did you do?"
"I let him run," Evren said. "Didn't blame him. He'd already lost too much."
Kaelion leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "You ever regret it?"
Evren's eyes met his. "No. Regret's for people who can afford to feel it."
They sat in silence again, but it wasn't awkward.
It was understanding.
Kaelion broke it first. "I don't have many scars. Not on the outside."
Evren didn't ask. But he listened.
That was enough for now.
Kaelion didn't move after the words left his mouth. I don't have many scars. Not on the outside.
He hadn't meant to say it aloud. But Evren didn't flinch, didn't ask. Just let the words settle into the silence like ash falling over the embers.
"I wasn't supposed to be out there," Kaelion said after a beat, gaze fixed on the fire. "Not on the frontlines. I was trained for diplomacy. Politics. But when the capital was breached—everything changed."
Evren didn't respond. But Kaelion could feel his eyes.
"I saw my tutor—old man, barely able to hold a sword—cut down right in front of me. I froze. Couldn't move. Couldn't even scream."
A pause.
"Then what?" Evren's voice was low, but steady.
Kaelion's lips curved bitterly. "Then you showed up."
Evren blinked.
"The day the palace gates fell. You don't remember, do you? You dragged me by the arm and threw me into the transport like I was some sack of grain."
Evren frowned, thinking.
"I remember a brat with a crown," he muttered. "Didn't think he'd survive the night."
Kaelion huffed. "Neither did I."
They both laughed—just barely.
It faded fast, but something shifted. A fragile thread between them, pulled tighter.
"Why'd you stay?" Kaelion asked.
Evren tilted his head. "Stay where?"
"By my side. Even when you hate my guts."
Evren's eyes narrowed faintly. "I don't hate you."
"You act like you do."
"I act like someone who's seen too many princes promise the world and deliver war."
Kaelion didn't argue that.
Evren stood, brushing ash from his pants. "You don't need me to like you, Kaelion. You need me to keep you alive."
Kaelion looked up at him. "And if I wanted both?"
Evren didn't answer.
He turned, walking toward the edge of camp, leaving the question hanging in the cold night air like a blade suspended mid-swing.
Evren sat with his back against a tree, fingers tapping against the hilt of his blade. The cold had settled into his bones, but he didn't move. He wasn't ready to sleep. Not with thoughts like Kaelion's question echoing in his head.
And if I wanted both?
Damn prince always knew how to leave a scar without a sword.
Across the camp, Kaelion had finally laid down, but he wasn't asleep either. His breathing was too careful. Too measured. He was listening.
Evren closed his eyes anyway.
Tomorrow, they would reach the ridge overlooking the ruins of Eldrith Vale. The path would get harder. Colder. Crueler.
But for now, there was quiet. The kind before a storm.
Kaelion's voice cut through the dark.
"Do you believe in fate?"
Evren opened his eyes. "Fate?"
"Yeah. Like… we were meant to cross paths. All this. Us."
Evren let out a breath that was almost a scoff.
"No. I believe in choices. People make messes. Not the stars."
Kaelion turned to face him, only the firelight catching the edges of his expression.
"Then why didn't you leave when you had the chance? Back at the border. You could've disappeared."
Evren didn't answer immediately.
Then, finally: "Because I'm not done yet."
Kaelion watched him, quiet.
He didn't press further.
But Evren knew the question hanging behind Kaelion's eyes wasn't about the war.
It was about him.
The sun barely kissed the horizon when they set out again.
Evren walked ahead, his cloak swaying with every step, the silence between him and Kaelion now thick with unspoken tension. The woods grew denser, ancient trees twisting into canopies that blocked out the sky. It was darker here… colder too, as if the forest itself held its breath.
Kaelion didn't complain.
For once, he didn't speak at all.
Not until they heard it—
a soft laugh.
High-pitched. Musical. Playful.
They froze.
Evren's hand flew to his sword, Kaelion's eyes narrowing as the laugh echoed again—closer this time. A flicker of movement darted behind the trees.
"Show yourself," Kaelion called out.
A few tense seconds passed.
Then from the shadows stepped…
a boy.
He couldn't have been older than twelve. Small. Delicate frame. His dark curls fell over his forehead, and his eyes sparkled with mischief like stars had gotten trapped in them. He wore clothes too light for the cold, and yet he didn't shiver.
"Don't worry," the boy said with a grin. "I'm not here to stab you. Well… not yet, anyway."
Evren raised an eyebrow.
Kaelion stepped forward, voice low. "Who are you?"
The boy tilted his head.
"Name's Lioran. I live around here. Well, not live—more like haunt. Depends who you ask."
Evren didn't lower his blade.
Kaelion did.
"You're not afraid of us?"
Lioran laughed. "Should I be? You're just two grumpy strangers with swords and serious faces. I've seen scarier birds."
That made Kaelion smirk for the first time all day.
Evren didn't like this. Not one bit. The boy was too calm. Too clever. But something in his presence… felt old. Like the forest itself wanted them to meet him.
Kaelion crouched slightly, eye-level with the boy.
"What are you doing alone in these woods?"
Lioran shrugged. "Waiting."
"For what?"
A smile tugged at his lips.
"You."