The sun filtered gently through the tall windows of the breakfast chamber, casting warm golden rays across the long table. I sat near the end, quietly sipping a mug of herbal tea, trying to savor a rare, quiet morning. The war felt momentarily distant, like a dream waiting on the edge of wakefulness.
The door creaked open.
"Sage?" Jemisha's voice was softer than usual, hesitant.
I looked up. Her hair was damp, as if she'd just come from a bath, and her clothes were wrinkled, thrown on without much thought. But it was her eyes that struck me—wide, alert, troubled.
"Sit," I said gently, pulling out the chair beside me.
She did, curling her legs up under her like she used to when we were children sneaking sweets from the kitchens. But there was no sweetness in her expression now—only shadows.
"I need to tell you something," she said quietly. "Something about... my scar."
I blinked, glancing at the thin line that ran just under her left eye. "I thought you didn't remember—"
"I did remember. I just didn't want to talk about it until now." Her fingers brushed the scar absentmindedly. "It was a crow. But not a normal one. His name is Nero. He talks. Thinks. Laughs, even." Her mouth twisted. "He's not a creature—he's a weapon."
My breath caught. "A crow did that to you?"
"He works in hell," Jemisha said, voice flat. "Under Mortis. There are others down there—demons with eyes like coals, vampires that walk through fire. One of them, a vampire named Nella, told me they'd been watching me for a long time. Said I reminded them of someone they'd buried centuries ago."
A chill ran down my spine. "You were in Mortis's domain?"
"Just once. Briefly. I don't know how they pulled me in. But... I saw something in his office. A painting." Jemisha leaned in slightly, lowering her voice. "A man. Tall, dark hair, green eyes. He looked like Xenos, Sage. Not similar—identical. I thought it was him."
My heart skipped a beat.
I stood abruptly, my chair scraping against the marble. "I need to speak with him."
"Sage—" Jemisha started, but I was already walking.
---
I found Xenos in the sparring hall, running drills with a blade, shirtless, his back glistening with sweat. His movements were sharp, focused—but as I stepped into the room, he faltered, sensing my presence.
"Sage," he said, lowering the sword, breathless. "Is something wrong?"
I didn't answer immediately. I just stared at him, trying to see it—the man in the painting Jemisha had described. I could almost picture it now. The curve of his jaw. The eyes that saw too much.
"I need you to be honest with me," I said at last.
His brow furrowed. "Always."
"Who is the man in Mortis's office that looks like you?"
Xenos stilled. For a heartbeat, the air between us felt like ice.
"You knew about it," I said, voice rising. "Did you think I wouldn't find out? Jemisha saw him—"
"I didn't want you to know," he interrupted, his voice tight.
"But you knew," I snapped. "You knew and you said nothing."
He tossed the sword aside, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "Because I knew what it would do to you. To us."
"Then say it." I stepped forward, heart pounding. "Tell me the truth."
He looked at me, his expression dark and wounded. "I used to work with Mortis."
The words hit like a blow.
"He wasn't always what he is now," Xenos continued, voice low. "He was... the only other being who understood what it meant to be what I am. A dragon. The last of our kind. He was my friend. My brother, in every way but blood. I thought I owed him my loyalty."
"And now?" I whispered.
"I realized too late who he'd become. What he'd done. And by the time I tried to stop it, the damage was done. I left him. And he never forgave me."
I shook my head, the fury building. "You lied to me, Xenos. Every time we spoke about Mortis—every plan, every meeting—you were holding this back."
"I didn't lie," he said, stepping closer. "I protected you from a truth that would've destroyed your trust in me—like it's doing now."
"No," I said sharply, tears stinging my eyes. "You chose yourself. You chose to protect your own shame instead of warning the people who fight beside you."
His expression darkened. "Be careful, Sage."
I laughed bitterly. "Or what? You'll burn down the truth with the rest of your secrets?"
Magic surged around us—hot, raw, uncontrolled. My fingertips crackled with energy, and his eyes flared with silver light. The room trembled slightly, dust falling from the beams above.
"I gave you everything," he growled. "And you still don't understand."
"Maybe I don't want to understand a man who hides who he truly is," I shot back.
Lightning licked across the floor as a burst of flame shot from his palm, not at me—but past me, into the wall. I responded instinctively, sending a gust of wind that knocked him backward. The ground beneath us shook as our power collided in sparks and bursts of light.
Then... silence.
He stood on one side of the room, breath ragged. I stood on the other, my heart breaking.
"I can't do this right now," I whispered, turning away.
"Sage—"
But I was already walking, each step heavier than the last.
We had broken—not with swords, but with truths we hadn't wanted to face.
And the war outside now mirrored the war within.
The moon hung low over the garden, silver and soft, spilling light across the stone benches and tall, whispering trees. I sat curled at the edge of the fountain, the cool marble pressing against my back. My magic had finally stilled, but inside—I was still a storm.
Footsteps approached gently behind me.
"It's not every day I find the great Lady Sage hiding in the garden like a ghost," Alohi's voice teased lightly, but I could hear the caution beneath it.
I didn't look at her. "I needed to breathe."
Alohi sat beside me, folding her legs gracefully beneath her. She didn't speak for a moment, just watched the water ripple in the moonlight.
"You fought with him," she said at last.
I turned to her. "How do you know?"
"You've got that look—like a house still standing after fire swept through it." Her tone softened. "And he's walking around like someone carved his heart out with a dull blade."
I exhaled shakily, the truth unraveling with it. "He worked with Mortis. He knew things—dangerous things—and never told me. He stood by that monster once. He kept it all to himself. I trusted him."
Alohi reached over, taking my hand in hers. "I know it hurts. But Sage… we all have pasts. And sometimes, the ones with the heaviest ones are the ones who protect the fiercest."
"He betrayed me."
"No," she said gently, "he was trying to protect you. He thought hiding the truth would spare you. Was it foolish? Yes. But it came from love, not malice."
I blinked rapidly, swallowing hard.
Alohi continued, "Now isn't the time to fight each other. Mortis is gathering hell beneath him, and you two—" she squeezed my hand— "you're stronger together than apart. Forgive him. Not for his sake. For yours. You don't want to face what's coming with bitterness in your heart."
I didn't answer. I just leaned my head against her shoulder, and for a long time, we sat there like that—quiet, wrapped in moonlight and memory.
Eventually, Alohi rose. "I'll leave you alone. But don't stay in the dark too long, Sage." She smiled softly. "Even dragons need warmth."
She left with the rustle of silk and grass, vanishing into the corridor of trees.
---
I didn't know how long I sat there, alone with my thoughts. The wind had stilled, and the garden was silent, except for the low hum of the fountain behind me.
Then came footsteps. Slower. Heavier. Familiar.
Xenos appeared in the moonlight, his expression unreadable. He didn't speak, just lowered himself beside me on the bench, leaving only inches between us.
We sat in silence, the air stretched thin between us.
"I didn't come to fight," he said finally.
"I didn't come to forgive," I replied softly.
His shoulders sank, but he nodded. "Fair."
More silence. Then—
"I see him every time I close my eyes," he said, voice low. "Mortis. The man he was. The one I thought would rebuild the world with me. I believed in him, Sage. I gave him everything I had left. When I realized what he truly was—it broke something in me. And when I met you... you started stitching that part of me back together."
I looked at him, his face half-shadowed by the moon. "Then why hide it from me?"
"Because I was afraid," he admitted. "Afraid you'd see me as part of him. That I'd lose the one person who made me feel like I could still be good."
The knot in my chest twisted, then began to unravel.
"I'm angry, Xenos," I whispered. "Not just at what you did. But because I still want to trust you. And that's terrifying."
He reached for my hand, hesitant, but when I didn't pull away, he laced our fingers together.
"We can rebuild," he murmured. "You and me. Not perfectly. But truthfully."
I exhaled, resting my head on his shoulder. "We have to."
A pause. Then he turned slightly. "Do you remember what you said in the cavern beneath Elaran? About the dragon egg?"
I smiled faintly. "That maybe, if I could channel enough magic, I could create a new one. Rebirth the dragons."
"You weren't wrong," he said, eyes shining. "The spark is in you. I felt it. If we combined our power—"
"We could bring them back," I finished, sitting up straighter. "A new era. A new legacy."
He nodded. "Not just war and ruin. But life."
For the first time that night, the ache in my chest softened.
We sat in the garden long into the night, side by side, dreaming not of destruction—but of rebirth.
And this time… we would face everything together.