The fires of Eldrath had finally burned out.
Days passed, yet the scent of smoke still clung to the air, and the soil remained warm beneath Eric's boots — as though the earth itself was reluctant to forget what had transpired.
He stood by the river's edge, watching the ripples move like threads of light across the surface. The morning sun broke through the mist, faint and tired, painting the forest in shades of gold and gray. Behind him, the remnants of their camp lay scattered — a place once filled with noise and hope, now quiet, haunted only by the whisper of the wind.
Seraphina was alive.
That alone was a miracle.
She lay in the healing tent, her wings bandaged, her body wrapped in silken sheets soaked with cooling herbs. The dragonfire that once made her untouchable had nearly devoured her from within. Eric had sat by her side every night since the battle, refusing to leave her even for an hour.
He could still see her face when she collapsed — the way her light dimmed, how her breath faltered — and the helplessness that tore through him like a blade.
Now, the soft sound of her breathing was the only thing keeping him from falling apart.
Eric knelt beside the river, dipping his hands into the cool water, watching it slip through his fingers. His reflection stared back at him — a face lined with exhaustion and something darker.
The mark on his forearm pulsed faintly, glowing red beneath the skin. The mark of the dragon bond.
He clenched his fist.
Ever since the battle, the mark had been changing — shifting, alive.
Sometimes, when he closed his eyes, he could hear something whispering in the back of his mind. A voice not his own.
He hadn't told Seraphina.
Not yet.
A faint rustle behind him made him turn. Seraphina stood there, leaning weakly against the tent pole, wrapped in a white cloak. Her wings were still injured, folded tight against her back, but her eyes — those molten silver eyes — were alive again.
"You shouldn't be walking," Eric said, moving toward her quickly. "You're still—"
"—breathing," she interrupted softly, a faint smile touching her lips. "That's enough."
He hesitated, caught between worry and admiration. She looked fragile, yet still carried herself with the grace of a queen who refused to bow before fate.
"I wanted to see the sun," she said, stepping closer. "After everything we burned… I needed to remember what light looks like."
Eric nodded, unable to find words.
He helped her to the riverbank, and they sat together in silence, the water glinting before them like liquid glass.
For a while, neither spoke.
It was enough just to be.
Then Seraphina broke the silence.
"I saw him again," she whispered. "In my dreams. Drakonis. He's not gone, Eric. He's watching."
Eric's chest tightened. "Dreams can lie."
"Not these ones," she said quietly. "They feel too real. I can feel his breath… like fire against my heart."
He looked down at his hand, the mark still pulsing faintly. "Then maybe he's not only watching you."
Seraphina turned to him, her expression shifting. "What do you mean?"
Eric hesitated — then slowly lifted his sleeve. The dragon mark blazed faintly under the morning light, its shape no longer the gentle spiral of their bond but something jagged, primal, like the eye of a storm.
Seraphina's breath caught. "That's… impossible."
"I think," Eric said slowly, "that when you released all your power, when you faced him — something of him passed through me. Or maybe it was always there, waiting."
She reached out, placing her hand gently over the mark. The touch was warm, trembling. "This is not just his power," she whispered. "It's ours. Our bond changed it. You're not corrupted… not yet. But he's inside you now — watching, waiting."
Eric met her eyes. "Then we'll find a way to fight him. Together."
She looked at him for a long time, searching his face for fear — and finding none. Only determination. Only love.
Finally, she nodded, a small, weary smile breaking through. "You never change, do you?"
"Not where it matters," he said softly.
The wind shifted then — gentle, almost kind. The forest seemed to breathe again, life returning inch by inch to the charred soil. Birds dared to sing from distant branches. And for a fleeting moment, peace returned — fragile, imperfect, but real.
Seraphina leaned against him, resting her head on his shoulder. "Do you ever think we'll win this?" she asked quietly.
"I don't know," Eric admitted. "But I know we'll try. And that's enough."
They sat there as the sun climbed higher, bathing the ruined land in light.
And somewhere deep in the shadows of the forest, unseen by either of them, the ashes began to stir.
A spark glowed faintly — golden, dangerous — like the first breath of something ancient awakening once more.
The war was far from over.
But so was their story.