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I exhale shakily. “Yes. A new way.”

We gather what meager resources we can: a handful of pine cones that might yield edible seeds, a few hardy root vegetables discovered near a trickle of water. Elyria’s purna magic flickers once when she tries to coax a small plant to grow, but it’s not her forte—she only manages to make the leaves glow faintly before exhaustion sets in. We share a rueful laugh, pressing our brows together.At least we tried.

We go back to the cave, stirring a scant stew from foraged roots. The taste is bland, but we eat in silence, grateful foranything. My appetite is poor, but Elyria insists I finish a portion to keep up my strength. Afterward, we slip into a drowsy hush, each lost in swirling thoughts of the future.

She nestles beside me, the chain around her neck rattling softly. “Tomorrow, I want to search for an actual sheltered glade—somewhere deeper in the forest, away from the old fortress routes,” she says, voice soft. “We can build a better camp. Maybe stay until you’re fully healed.”

I rest my chin on her hair, inhaling the faint floral scent that lingers from the blossoms. “I’ll manage,” I say, though my chest twinges at the thought of extensive travel. But she’s right—staying near the battlefield invites danger.

She glances at me, tears reflecting in the firelight. “We can do it slowly,” she promises, voice trembling. “I won’t push you too hard.” A flicker of shame crosses her features. “I know you gave up flight… and I?—”

My heart clenches. I press a finger to her lips. “Stop,” I murmur, voice choked with emotion. “It was my choice. I’d sever my wings a thousand times if it meant saving you.”

Tears spill over her cheeks, and she nods, burying her face against my neck. The hush that follows wraps around us like a fragile shield, shutting out old regrets. I hold her, letting the exhaustion of the day seep into my bones.

At some point, I slip into a restless sleep and the stars start to flicker. But nightmares dog me—visions of the alpha’s staff crackling, the severed wings flapping on the arena floor. I jolt awake more than once, drenched in cold sweat. Each time, Elyria soothes me, pressing a shaky hand to my chest, whispering reassurances.

Toward early morning, I jolt upright again, pain shooting through my back. Elyria stirs, blinking blearily. “Korrin?”

“Just a dream,” I rasp, chest tight. My wings—or stumps—throb, bandages sticky with sweat.Will this torment me forever?

She draws me close, tears in her eyes. “We’ll get through it,” she murmurs. “I promise.”

I nod, exhaling a trembling breath. The sense of loss roars in my head—No more flight.But her presence tempers the darkness.I have her.That must be enough.

Elyria rummages through our supplies, distributing the last of the dried meat and a few pine seeds she managed to coax free. The meal is sparse, but it staves off hunger pangs.

We speak in hushed tones, each word laced with the knowledge that we can’t return to our old lives. I close my eyes, remembering the proud gargoyle spires, the daily rituals of executioners. All turned to ash. Elyria sighs, recounting her memories of being a slave in the dark elf fortress, how she once believed she’d die with a collar around her neck. Now, the broken metal dangles from her throat, a trophy of defiance.

When we finish eating, we pack our few belongings—a battered satchel with a strip of bandages, an extra dagger, scraps of food. The chain around Elyria’s neck clangs softly as she stands. “Ready?” she asks, giving me a questioning look.

I push to my feet with a low groan, ignoring the red-hot stab in my back. “As I’ll ever be,” I reply, voice tight. “Lead the way.”

We leave the cave behind. The early light illuminates the battered foothills, the silent testimony of war scattered across them. But the morning air carries a faint sweetness, as if the land itself is relieved to see the conflict end. We traverse rocky slopes until we find a game trail leading into denser forest. Elyria helps me keep pace, her purna senses pricking for any leftover threats. None appear.

We reach a secluded glen, surrounded by towering pines and a trickling stream. Soft moss carpets the ground, the sun filtering through the canopy in golden spears. Elyria draws a trembling breath. “This might be a good place to set camp for awhile,” she suggests, scanning the area. “Water, shelter from the wind, enough cover to hide.”

I nod, relief mingling with exhaustion.It’s perfect.My entire body yearns for rest. She helps me settle near the stream, removing the makeshift bandages again to let my wounds breathe. The fragrance of pine and damp soil soothes me, erasing the stench of carnage from memory.Nature reclaims what war discards.

She kneels by the stream, rinsing cloths, then returns to dab them against my seared flesh. A hiss escapes me, but I endure, letting her gentle care anchor me.She’s so tender, even though she’s battered herself.

After re-dressing my wounds, she casts a shy glance at me. “You should rest,” she says quietly. “Let me build a real firepit, gather food.”

A pang of guilt tugs at me, she’s doing everything while I can hardly stand. Yet I see the fierce glint in her eyes:She wants to protect me, as I once protected her.I manage a faint nod. “I’ll rest,” I promise, voice hoarse. “But be careful.”

She brushes a soft kiss across my forehead. “I will.” Then she leaves to gather stones for a fire ring, checking for edible plants or small game. I watch her go, heart thudding with pride and sorrow.She’s grown so strong, forging her own destiny beyond collars and chains.

Alone by the stream, I gaze at the reflection of my battered form in the water’s surface. My face is lined with fresh scars, dark hair matted with sweat. The stumps of my wings remain hidden by bandages, but the memory of them stings.I’ll never fly.The thought stabs like a fresh blade. But I steel myself.I did it to save her. That’s reason enough.

Elyria returns with a modest bounty: a few mushrooms, handfuls of edible leaves, and a small portion of wild berries. She even managed to catch a squirrel, though tears shine in hereyes at the act of killing. “It was so small,” she murmurs, voice trembling. I press her hand gently, acknowledging the moral burden. But we need protein. We share the meal quietly, hearts heavy yet grateful for sustenance.

Afterward, we nestle near the newly formed firepit. The forest hushes around us, crickets chirping in the undergrowth. The hush is thick with a cautious sense of hope.We’re exiles, yes, but we’re alive.

I shift, wincing at the pain in my back. Elyria notices, moving behind me to support my posture, letting me lean against her chest. Her warmth envelops me, and I rest my head on her shoulder, inhaling her faintly floral scent. “Does it help?” she asks softly, arms around my torso to steady me.

I let out a shaky breath. “Yes,” I reply, voice trailing off as I savor the comfort of her presence. The memories of war weigh on my soul, but her embrace reminds me we won the right to exist without the alpha’s shadow. “This helps a lot.”

She presses her cheek to the top of my head, tears in her voice. “We can’t go back—either of us,” she murmurs. “No clan for you, no human settlement for me. But maybe… we can learn to live free. Here, or somewhere new.”