ASHES AND OATHS
Flames engulfed whatever remained of holy ground, twisting shadows that leaped like ghosts on fallen stone. The heavens wept up above, with ash dulling starlight. The war had left its mark, leaving scars.
Elara's knees buckled in the blood-soaked ground as she cradled Kael's motionless body. His chest rose and fell by a mere fraction. The blood on her hands was warm, still fresh.
"Stay with me," she panted, struggling for breath. "Please, Kael. Don't leave me. Not yet." Elara said.
Kael's eyes flickered open—barely a flicker of life. His lips twisted into a faint smile. "Still got one last. fight in me."
And his body became still.
"No!" Elara's shout tore through the shattered stillness, raw and heartbreaking, ringing out over the devastated battle ground.
Lerder lurched forward over towards her, blood dripping from a cut on his forehead, his sword clanking by his side. "Elara. We have to go. Now."
She did not hear him. She was focused on the silence in Kael's chest.
"Elara," Lerder's voice snapped harder. "They'll return. If we remain here, we perish."
Tears streamed down through smudged cheeks. She nodded, her throat constricted. She stood up, with one last kiss on Kael's forehead, and the world was cracked and strange around her.
They escaped to the remains of an old monastery in the midst of the cliffs, the last refuge not yet desecrated. Halls resounded with forgotten prayer and silent desperation.
He sat by Isadora, burning with fever herself. She lay wan, her skin pale, and her breath in hoarse gasps.
"Elara," he spoke without raising his head. "She's fading. The poison isn't just in her blood. It's eating away at her soul." Lerder uttered.
"We need the Oracle," Lerder said, fists clenched. "Only she has the power to—"
"She won't help." Lysander's voice was venom. "She's abandoned us. She watches from afar and plays her games."
Elara stepped forward, her voice low but steady. "Then we don't ask. We demand. We've bled enough for her prophecies."
Two days through the frostbitten mountains nearly broke them. Each step was a test of resolve. The nights were colder than death, and the silence between Elara and Lerder was thick with unspoken truths.
On the second night, they sat by the fire, its heat barely enough to chase the cold inside their bones.
"You should sleep," Elara murmured.
"So should you."
She looked at him, eyes gleaming in the firelight. "Do you think we'll make it?" Elara whispered.
"I don't know," he admitted. "But I do know that I'd rather die beside you than live without you."
A silence settled. Not heavy—but charged.
"You never told me the full truth," she said softly. "About Lysander's accusations. About your past."
Lerder's face dropped. "I was raised by Malak. Trained to be a weapon. I ran before the blood oath bound me. Thought I could leave it behind. I was wrong."
"And now?" she asked.
"Now I fight for you." Lerder replied.
Elara's fingers reached for his. "Then that's all that matters."
Lerder and Elara decided to go and see the Oracle, for spiritual help and the way out. The Oracle's temple was a cathedral of ice, its walls shimmering with ancient power. When Elara pressed her palm to the gate, the seal blazed.
"Enter," a voice echoed. "Daughter of Flame. Son of Ruin."
The Oracle waited at the heart of the temple. Her presence was ageless, her white eyes bottomless.
"You seek answers," she intoned.
"And healing," Elara said.
"There is always a price." Oracle whispered.
"What price?" Lerder demanded.
"The bond you share must be tested. Only through fire will truth be revealed."
A blinding flash consumed them.
When the light receded, they were apart. Elara stood alone in a valley of flames. Lerder faced endless mirrors of ice.
Voices whispered to Elara:
'He will betray you. His hands are stained with your enemies' blood. He was forged by darkness.'
Visions haunted her—Lerder kneeling before Malak, eyes empty, blades wet with innocent blood.
"No," she said, trembling. "He's not that man anymore."
But fear coiled like smoke in her chest.
Lerder faced ghosts of his own.
'She will abandon you. Like the others. She craves power, not love. You are nothing but a blade to her.'
He roared and struck the mirror, shards falling like snow.
"I am more than your lies!"
They collapsed back into the temple, panting, bruised, changed.
The Oracle studied them. "You have seen the truth. Do you still choose each other?"
Elara met Lerder's gaze. Her voice trembled. "Yes."
"Then the bond is sealed," said the Oracle.
Light wrapped around them—runic symbols burning beneath their skin, binding them in purpose.
"Your path is still shadowed," the Oracle warned. "But now, your hearts beat as one."
They returned to the monastery with newfound resolve—only to find Isadora gone.
"Isadora… Isadora," Lerder called out.
"Where could she be?" Elara questioned.
Lerder moved around, trying to find her and he saw something staring in front of him. A letter, written with blood, was pinned to the altar. It says:
'Come to the Black Citadel. Or she dies.'
Lerder crushed it in his fist. "It's a trap."
"A trap you say" Elara screamed.
Elara's eyes burned with rage and certainty. "Then let them spring it. Together."
Night cloaked the mountains in a veil of dread as they prepared for the journey ahead. In the distance, lightning flashed over the Citadel—ominous and final.
And within the shadows, Morwen stood at the highest spire, watching them come.
"Let the end begin," she whispered, a wicked smile curling her lips. Ready for war, the taste of flesh blood.
"Yes I can see them too , I hope they can see what we prepared for them here." Isadora responded, with hatred and agony.
"Hope you are prepared" he asked.
"Yes I am, very much ready"
Their love had been tested, their oaths forged in flame and frost. What awaited them would demand more. Much more.
But as long as they walked together, the fire would not consume them.