Chapter 52 - Knight Wakes

  Ryn remembered far too much from the fall of Solvara.

  He wished he didn’t.

  So many needless deaths.

  The memories clawed at his mind.

  The heat.

  The screaming.

  The blinding light that tore through the city—her light.

  And his own uselessness, standing there as the world burned around him.

  His failure.

  His shame.

  His punishment.

  And now, he was somewhere else.

  Somewhere between unconcious and whatever lay beyond it.

  He stood… if standing was even the right word, in a place that wasnt real

  A dream maybe…?

  The afterlife…?

  A field of flowers stretched endlessly before him, bathed in a soft, bright blue. Lilies covered everything, rooted in soil he couldn’t feel, swaying in a wind that didn’t touch his skin. Their petals shimmered faintly, like reflections in water, their glow casting long, trembling shadows across the ground.

  Shapes loomed in the mist between the flowers, statues, countless and unmoving.

  Figures of men, women, children… their faces half-swallowed by vines and petals, their forms frozen mid-prayer or mid-scream.

  Each one overgrown by blue flowers.

  The sight was beautiful.

  And it terrified him to his core.

  The air here wasn’t silent; it hummed.

  A low, resonant sound that seemed to come from the flowers themselves, like a thousand quiet voices whispering beneath his breath.

  He turned slowly.

  The garden stretched on forever—an overgrown maze of light and memory.

  There was no sky, no horizon.

  Only that endless ocean of blue.

  An endless garden.

  And beyond it, stood a figure.

  He looked just like Ryn, identical, almost, but younger. By Two years, maybe.

  His hair, his skin, even his clothes were pale as snow, drained of all color. Only his eyes broke the stillness, gray, unblinking, cold.

  He stared at Ryn.

  And Ryn stared back.

  Then the figure spoke, his voice that of a child’s, soft, almost gentle, yet carrying something that made Ryn’s stomach twist.

  “Wake up.”

  “It’s not over yet.”

  “You’ve still got something to do…”

  A pause.

  “…don’t you?”

  ***

  Ryn woke gasping for air.

  For a moment, he didn’t understand why breathing hurt so much, only that every inhale felt like swallowing fire. Every nerve in his body screamed. His muscles trembled with the effort of simply existing.

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  When he said everything hurt, he meant it.

  Every single part of him, from his chest to the stumps of his fingers, throbbed with raw, biting pain.

  Death, he thought faintly, might’ve been better.

  Still, he was alive.

  Even with one arm gone, he was alive.

  Breathing. Thinking.

  The realization struck him harder than any wound.

  Most of his body was wrapped in layers of rough cloth, crude bandages, stiff with dried blood. Yet there was care in how they’d been tied. Someone had known what they were doing, or at least had tried their best. Whoever it was, they’d kept him alive. He wore nothing now but a pair of trousers, the rest of him bound in cloth and scars.

  He blinked, his vision swimming, and realized he was lying in a cart, the wood creaking softly beneath his weight.

  He pushed himself upright, a mistake.

  The world spun violently. A sharp, blinding pain shot through his ribs, and before he could stop himself, he toppled forward, crashing onto the cold marble floor.

  For a long second, he lay there, gasping, cheek pressed against the stone, the echo of his fall ringing faintly through the chamber.

  Then he heard it.

  Footsteps.

  Soft. Quick. Familiar.

  Ryn froze, every muscle in his body tightening despite the pain. Someone was coming, and from the rhythm, from the lightness of it, he knew exactly who.

  His gaze lifted, blurry at first, and then focused.

  Two familiar figures stood over him.

  The first, a silver-haired girl in what had once been a maid’s uniform, now nothing more than tattered rags clinging to her frame. Her hair was matted with dust and ash, her face streaked with exhaustion. Yet her eyes, wide and trembling, shone with a relief so sharp it hurt to look at.

  The second, a golden-haired girl whose torn, dirt-stained dress might once have been the most elegant garment in Solvara’s court. Now, it hung from her like strips of cloth, her skin pale covered in faint bruises gleamed, beneath the dim firelight.

  Ryn’s throat felt dry as sandpaper. His lips cracked as he tried to speak.

  Only one word came out.

  “…Hey.”

  For a heartbeat, the two girls just stared at him.

  Then, realising they probably shouldn't leave him on the floor, almost in unison, they moved.

  They took his one arm, heaving him upright. His legs buckled, but their grip held firm.

  After a while, they managed to settle Ryn’s heavy frame near the fire.

  By then, the sun had already begun to sink beyond the hills, painting the broken stone walls of the temple in fading gold.

  The three of them sat there… silent.

  The fire crackled softly, casting long shadows across their faces. No one spoke. No one moved.

  Even though, in truth, Ryn had only been unconscious for a few days, it felt like years had passed.

  Like a lifetime had stretched and broken somewhere between those lost days.

  He looked at them, at Ariel, at Lilia, and for a moment, he didn’t know what to say.

  But he spoke the most obvious question in his mind

  “Where are we? What—”

  He stopped mid-sentence, wincing as pain shot through his chest. His breath hitched, his one hand clutching his ribs.

  Lilia ran to make sure he was ok, her hands hovering helplessly over him.

  When he looked up, she was almost crying, her words tumbling out between breaths.

  “You’re really alive…

  “Gods, I thought— I really thought—”

  She caught herself, the rest of the sentence breaking in her throat.

  Her eyes glistened as she forced a shaky smile and whispered, “I’m sorry.”

  Then, just as quickly, she wiped her tears with the back of her hand, trying to compose herself.

  Ariel exhaled softly, her gaze drifting up toward the cracked ceiling above them. The fading firelight caught the cloth on her arm as she leaned back, exhaustion and relief mingling across her face.

  A small, tired smile tugged at her lips.

  “…A lot happened, Ryn,” she said quietly, almost like she was talking to herself. Then her eyes flicked back down to him, and her voice grew gentler. “We’ll tell you everything… just—” she gazed toward the small bowl near the fire, “eat first.”

  Lilia nodded beside her, wiping the last of her tears away and forcing a smile of her own. “Yeah. Eat. We can’t have you dying now…”

  He didn’t argue.

  He was starving, so hungry that even the bitter food tasted like a feast.

  And when the last bite was gone, they told him everything.