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Vorgath’s face shifted—pain, there was no other word for it. His thick arms hung by his sides, useless against the fire that had already done its damage. For a moment, he was no longer the fierce warrior I’d come to trust, tocrave.

He was just... a man who couldn’t fix what was broken.

“Soraya—” He stepped closer, his voice softer now, pleading. I could see it in his eyes: the willingness to fight. For me. For Elias. But I couldn’t let him do that. Not when I felt so utterly powerless.

“No, Vorgath. Don’t.” I held up my hand, stepping back, my throat tight. “What if… what if I was wrong? What if I was wrong to let you in?”

He flinched like I’d struck him. Silence hung between us, a chasm neither of us could cross.

I swallowed hard, hating myself for the words but unable to stop. “I can’t... I can’t afford to hope for something and watch it be destroyed again. You—this… it's too much.” I felt my chestheave, but I forced the next words out. “I don’t know if I can do this with you. With anyone.”

The words echoed in the silence between us, and I hated how small they sounded, how broken. But letting him in had been a risk, a chance to believe in more than survival.

Now, surrounded by ashes, it felt like an invitation for the world to strike again.

“Maybe I was meant to be alone,” I whispered.

Because if I was alone, I wouldn’t have to watch everything I loved burn. I wouldn’t have to hold Elias close and wonder if I could protect him from the world, or from my own failures. And I wouldn’t have to look at Vorgath and see the possibility of a future that felt too good, too fragile, to last.

“Soraya…” His voice trailed off, the words unsaid, too heavy for the moment.

I looked up at him, knowing this was it. “Just go,” I said.

Finally, he spoke, his voice low and filled with something I hadn’t expected—acceptance. “If that’s what you want.”

The words ripped through me, cold and sharp. He was leaving. Because I had told him to.

Vorgath breathed deeply, the sound thick with unspoken things. Then, with one last look, he turned and walked away. His footsteps crunched through the ashes as he disappeared into the haze of dawn.

And I… I was alone.

The morning fog thickened, and the silence around me stretched, endless and empty. I stood there, clutching the hammer until the metal bit into my palm, but the pain felt distant. The ashes curled around my feet, whispering a truth I didn’t want to face.

All I felt was empty. Cold.

I thought we could rebuild. But now?

Now, I wasn’t sure of anything.

Chapter 24

The needle slipped through the delicate fabric with practiced ease, my fingers moving in a familiar rhythm. Sunlight streamed through the tall windows of Lady Hargrave's sitting room, casting a warm glow on the fine silks and velvets spread across my lap.

“I don'tlikethese flowers,” Isla, Lady Hargrave's eldest, whined for what felt like the hundredth time. “They're too...pink.”

I bit back a sigh, forcing a patient smile. “We can change them if you'd prefer. Perhaps a softer shade?”

Isla's little nose scrunched up in distaste. “No, I want themblue. Like the sky.”

“Blue it is, then,” I murmured, reaching for a spool of cornflower thread.

As I began unpicking the delicate embroidery I'd spent the better part of an hour on, I felt a familiar pang of frustration. With the smithy reduced to ashes, I'd had no choice but to fallback on my old trade. The meager pay from seamstressing barely kept food on the table, but it was all I had left. Each stitch felt like a step backward, away from the life I'd begun to build for myself and Elias.

The door opened with a soft creak, and Lady Hargrave swept into the room. Her eyes widened slightly as they landed on me, a flicker of surprise crossing her face before she schooled it back into her usual mask of polite indifference.

“Mrs. Ashford,” she said, her voice cool and measured. “I honestly didn't expect to see you again after you took up blacksmithing.”

My spine stiffened, but I kept my voice steady. “Life has a way of bringing us full circle sometimes, my lady.”