Chapter 48 - Desperate for normal

  Lilia woke up gasping for air.

  Her chest heaved as her eyes darted around, wide and unfocused. For a few seconds, she didn’t know where she was, only the warmth of sunlight against her face and the faint hum of insects in the distance.

  The rain was gone. The storm had passed. Everything was quiet now.

  She blinked up at the ceiling above, cracked stone, vines creeping through the gaps. It took her a moment to realize she was inside the temple.

  The chamber was vast and eerily still. The air carried a faint warmth.

  Around her, the walls curved into high arches. The floor beneath her was smooth marble. At its center was a raised dais of stone, its surface covered in symbols. The scent of grass lingered in the air, mixing with dust and the faint metallic tang of blood.

  Her mind felt foggy, heavy.

  Who was she again?

  Where was she?

  Why was she—

  Then the memories hit her all at once.

  The rain.

  The aberration.

  The chase through the forest.

  The blinding flashes of light and the screams that followed.

  And Ariel—

  Her heart lurched. She shot upright so fast her vision spun.

  “Ari—!”

  The name caught in her throat.

  Because Ariel was right there.

  Kneeling just a few feet away, her golden hair tangled and dull, her hands resting limply in her lap. Her eyes were closed, her breathing slow, not peaceful, but heavy, as if even in sleep she was exhausted beyond measure.

  Lilia froze, staring.

  Then she let out a trembling exhale.

  Relief surged through her chest so fiercely it almost hurt.

  But then her eyes caught on Ariel’s arm.

  The faint golden cracks that ran along it pulsed once, glowing softly in the dim light.

  Lilia’s breath caught.

  As much as she’d so desperately tried to

  She couldn't deny it anymore.

  The memory came rushing back: the storm, the blinding light, the sound that tore through the hills before everything went dark. She’d seen that light before. She knew it. The same impossible radiance that had swallowed Solvara whole.

  Her stomach turned.

  She had guessed before…but—

  No, she told herself.

  Ariel would have told her. She always did.

  She sat there for a long time, hands gripping her knees, the thought circling like a vulture. She wanted to push it away, to bury it somewhere deep and unreachable.

  But as she looked at Ariel now, the bruises, the exhaustion, the quiet ache carved into every line of her face, she knew.

  Ariel wouldn’t tell her. Not this time.

  Just like she hadn’t told her how she knew where the Trial was.

  Or why she’d been so desperate to come here.

  Or why she’d lied about what drew the aberrations to her.

  Or about the cracks creeping across her skin—and how she’d managed to face the aberration alone with such power.

  Lilia could guess…

  But …had never asked.

  Maybe she’d been too afraid of the answer.

  Something had changed.

  And Lilia could feel it, a distance that hadn’t been there before, quiet but growing.

  She couldn’t help thinking… if only she were stronger.

  Strong enough to protect Ariel, strong enough to bridge that distance.

  Someone more like Ryn—steady, brave.

  But she wasn’t.

  She was only a princess’s maid.

  ***

  Ariel woke sometime after Lilia.

  Every muscle in her body throbbed. Even with the endurance of a Blessed, she felt hollowed out, sore, trembling, as if her bones had turned to ash. When she moved, pain rippled through her side, up her arm, into her chest.

  The sun had fallen low, its light spilling faintly through the temple gates. Her right arm burned, the ache deep and constant, but it was fine. It didn’t matter.

  They’d made it.

  Beside her, warmth flickered. The soft crackle of fire filled the air, mingled with the faint scent of smoke and damp stone. Lilia sat close to the flame, her hair tangled and wild, eyes half-lidded from exhaustion. Yet her hands were steady as she stirred what little they had left to eat.

  When she noticed Ariel was awake, she straightened a little, wordlessly handing her a small bowl. Inside was a mix of boiled roots and wilted greens—barely looked like food.

  “...Eat,” Lilia said quietly.

  This time, Ariel didn’t argue.

  The food was awful, bitter, dry, the taste of earth clinging to every bite—but it was real. It filled her mouth.

  When she finally looked up from the bowl, Lilia was watching her. Her eyes were tired, ringed with sleepiness.

  They were alive.

  Somehow… they were all still alive.

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  Still with her.

  For a while, the only sound was the faint scrape of the spoon against the bowl and the crackle of fire between them.

  Lilia opened her mouth to speak, then hesitated.

  Her voice came out uncertain.

  “Ariel”

  A small pause. Then, quietly—

  “…We made it to the Trial.”

  She looked at her friend, searching her face.

  “... What now?”

  Ariel didn’t answer right away. She looked into her bowl, the light flickering across her tired face. When she finally spoke, it was barely above a whisper.

  “I don’t know…”

  Lilia paused

  She wanted to ask about Ariel’s arm, the light, everything…, but she swallowed the words back.

  They ate in silence.

  By the time they finished, evening had settled over the ruins. The fire burned low, its light flickering weakly across the temple walls. Long shadows stretched and swayed with each breath of wind.

  This would be the final test.

  They both knew it.

  If nothing came tonight…no footsteps, no whispers, no shrieks from the woods, it would mean the temple was safe.

  Safe enough to rest.

  Safe enough to stay.

  The night stretched long and still, broken only by the soft crackle of the fire and the faint sigh of the wind slipping through cracks in the stone. Ariel sat hunched forward, her golden hair catching the firelight, her eyes distant.

  Lilia leaned back against the wall, every muscle in her body finally unclenching. Every few minutes, she glanced toward the doorway, half expecting movement. Half dreading it.

  But none came.

  No aberrations.

  No sounds beyond the hills.

  Only silence.

  By the time the fractured moon hung high above, the tension began to ease. Lilia let herself fall back against the cold marble, a long, shaky sigh escaping her lips. For the first time in what felt like forever, she allowed herself to believe it.

  They were safe.

  They were really safe.

  After a while, Lilia spoke, her voice quiet.

  “This place seems safe… Let’s—make sure Ryn gets better, rest a little. Then… we’ll figure out how to go from there.”

  Ariel nodded.

  They got to work, slow but steady, turning the ruin into something almost livable. Lilia scavenged what scraps remained from the cart and their packs—cloth, rope, broken wood—and began to rig a small tent.

  When she leaned over Ryn to check on him, his breathing was steady now—soft, even. Color had returned to his face, though the wounds beneath the bandages still looked harsh…

  By the time they finished, the air inside the temple had grown still and warm. The fire’s glow danced against the stone.

  Ariel seemed distant through it all, helping where she could, but her thoughts were elsewhere, her eyes unfocused. Still, she looked better than before.

  When the work was done, Lilia lay on her back, staring up at the fractured ceiling, the light of the fire spilling across her eyes.

  She was completely, utterly, exhausted.

  Then came the faint sound of movement beside her.

  Ariel stood and sat next to Lilia. her eyes catching the faintest glint of gold.

  “I’ll take first watch,” she said quietly.

  “...You can rest, Lilia.”

  Lilia opened her mouth to argue, but the protest died halfway out. Her body ached in every place she could name, and the memory of yesterday still clung to her like a weight. She exhaled instead, rubbing at her eyes.

  “Don't...Don’t stay up too long,” she murmured.

  She walked toward the tent, her steps slow and heavy.

  “...W-We also need to figure out our food situation tomorrow,” she whispered, her voice already fading into drowsiness.

  Ariel smiled faintly—small, tired, but real—and gave a quiet nod.

  Lilia crawled into the makeshift tent they’d pieced together from torn fabric and old beams. The bedding was rough and uneven, but it didn’t matter. The moment she lay down, her body sank into the worn cloth.

  Outside, the fire crackled softly, its glow slipping through the seams of the tent.

  As her eyes began to close, she caught one last glimpse of Ariel, sitting alone beside the flames, her back straight, her gaze fixed on the dark doorway that led out into the hills.

  ***

  Ariel sat near Lilia’s tent, knees drawn close to her chest, the dying fire casting soft shadows across her face.

  She was glad…so very glad.

  Lilia and Ryn were alive. They had made it. They were safe.

  But even in that fragile safety, the memories of yesterday clung to her like smoke.

  The light—her light.

  The screaming.

  The smell of burning flesh.

  The sight of her own arm splitting open like porcelain under too much heat.

  Even now, her right arm still stung. Beneath her skin, faint golden cracks pulsed gently in time with her heartbeat… quiet reminders of her vow, of what she had become.

  Ariel’s breath stopped.

  She finally understood what the sun god meant.

  Her vow had been made.

  During Solvara’s destruction, she had wished—begged—to be free from pain.

  She had wished for it so desperately.

  And now she understood the cost.

  Every time she called upon her power, she would feel it instead. The ache of light that burned too bright.

  Her gift was light.

  Her vow was agony.

  She trembled and lifted her hand to her face. The faint cracks shimmered softly beneath her skin, golden veins flickering in rhythm with her pulse. Her lips twitched—somewhere between a smile and something far more fragile.

  A quiet sigh escaped her. She lowered her arm slowly, curling her fingers.

  The vow was only fitting, she thought.

  …Still… she wasn’t quite done. Not yet.

  She stared into the embers, watching their glow fade from gold to red.

  Now that Lilia was asleep, she could finally think—try to understand her blessing for what it truly was.

  When she was a child, her first prayer to Sol had been simple.

  Light.

  She hadn’t asked for strength or wisdom or even protection—just light. Because that was what her mother had carried.

  Her mother would weave shapes out of light, tracing stars and spirals through the air. Ariel would watch, laughing, reaching for the glowing trails that danced just beyond her fingers.

  And when her mother died, and the weight of Sol’s blessing fell to her instead, she prayed for that same light. For her mother’s light.

  Warm. Gentle. Kind.

  So what was the power she held now? What could it truly do?

  She was an apostle of the Sun God—the god of light.

  So what did that make her?

  She knew light could burn. She had seen it again and again.

  But was that all it was meant for?

  To destroy? To sear?

  It couldn’t be.

  The sun didn’t only burn—it sustained.

  It was the foundation of life itself.

  It brought warmth when the world froze, drove the beasts back into the dark, gave comfort to those who feared the night.

  It was warmth.

  Ariel pushed herself to her feet, shaky but steadying.

  Tomorrow, she would test it, what it could become.

  But she would do it alone.

  Far from Lilia’s eyes.

  Far from question’s she wasn't yet ready to answer.

  If I tell her now, she thought, she'd leave.