The fire had dimmed to glowing embers, casting a soft orange glow that pulsed like a tired heartbeat in the center of the camp. Shadows stretched long across the sleeping forms of Shadow Requiem. The team lay scattered in a loose circle, exhaustion having finally claimed them—Mason snoring softly beneath a half-assembled canopy, Jenna curled beside her weapon pack, Aerin silent and still as stone. Even Kai, who rarely slept more than an hour at a time, was finally motionless, his chest rising and falling in steady rhythm.

  But Silas remained awake.

  He sat apart from the rest, elbows on his knees, shoulders hunched forward, face a mask of silence and tension. His hands—gloved, cracked from the friction of gauntlets—held a thin strip of cloth: the red scarf given to him by Jace. His eyes, glowing faintly from the residual energy of his power, were fixed on the fire, but saw far beyond it.

  He saw Lily’s smile.

  Her giggle echoed in the back of his mind like a haunting lullaby. The memory of her dancing with crayon-stained fingers, pretending to cast spells, pretending she was strong—like him. She had believed he could protect anything. And he had believed it, too. Until the smoke. Until the silence. Until the ash.

  Elena watched him from across the circle.

  She had always felt his presence before she saw it. Silas Ward had that kind of gravity—a pull, a weight, like he anchored the world just by existing in it. But tonight, he looked like a man unmoored, drifting between rage and sorrow with nothing to tether him.

  Elena rose quietly.

  She moved with feline grace, silent even on the gravel. The firelight kissed her features as she stepped forward: soft cheekbones, full lips drawn into a faint frown, and dark, liquid eyes reflecting the fire’s low light. Her curves were subtle yet strong, the toned form of a warrior tempered with the gentle softness of a woman who still allowed herself to feel. Her tactical suit hugged her hips and waist, fitted but not showy—every piece of her armor told a story, a purpose.

  She wasn’t just beautiful. She was presence. Warmth in a battlefield.

  As she neared, Silas stirred, sensing her before he saw her. He didn’t look up.

  “Can’t sleep?” she asked, her voice low.

  “Didn’t try.”

  “You should rest,” she said, kneeling beside him.

  He gave a short, humorless laugh. “Not with the ghosts sitting in my chest.”

  She didn’t push. Instead, she sat beside him, close enough for their shoulders to almost touch, and stared into the fire with him.

  Minutes passed like that.

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  Then, gently, she shifted, leaning her head against his arm, wrapping her own around his bicep. The gesture was warm, tender—human.

  He stiffened slightly at the contact… then slowly relaxed. The world didn’t crumble. Her touch didn’t hurt. It grounded him.

  “I know what it’s like,” she whispered. “To carry the weight of someone you couldn’t save.”

  Silas turned to her, meeting her eyes for the first time. They were wide, open, unflinching.

  “I see it in you,” she said. “You blame yourself. For Lily. For all the kids. For the ones who never made it back.”

  “I recruited this team,” he murmured. “I trained them. Led them. Promised them we could make something better. And I let that world touch the innocent. I let it reach her.”

  He remembered a mission in the Glacial Reaches.

  The winds had howled like dying beasts. Their squad was ambushed. Panic threatened to undo them. But not Elena. She had reached out, anchored him. Her voice—steady, warm—cut through the chaos. “Silas. Breathe. You’re not alone.”

  It was the first time he realized he wasn’t the one holding everyone together. She did too.

  Elena’s fingers tightened slightly around his arm.

  “She loved you, you know,” Elena said softly. “She used to tell me stories about you—about how she thought you were some kind of knight from old stories. She believed in you so much.”

  That broke him.

  Silas’s throat clenched. He turned away, but Elena was already moving, her hands reaching up to cup his face as he choked on emotion. His breath hitched. Tears welled in his eyes, then spilled over like a storm breaking through a dam.

  Elena wiped them gently with her thumbs, her hands warm against his skin.

  “I don’t need you to be a knight,” she said. “Not right now. I just need you to be here. With us. With me.”

  He leaned forward, resting his forehead against her shoulder, and let himself cry. Deep, shaking sobs that tore from his chest like the roar of a wounded beast. She wrapped her arms around him fully, cradling his massive frame against her own, letting him shake, letting him break.

  “I should have kept her safe,” he rasped. “I promised I would.”

  “She felt safe, Silas,” Elena whispered. “She felt loved. That matters more than you think.”

  He remembered another mission.

  A tower in the Iron Dominion. Blood on his hands. His power flaring out of control. He’d almost collapsed the building. Until Elena had stepped into the blast radius. No shield. Just her. She walked up, placed a hand on his chest, and whispered: “Come back.” And he did.

  Time slowed. The night held them close.

  Eventually, Silas’s breathing eased. The tension in his body began to loosen.

  He looked up at her, his voice raw. “How do you do it?”

  “Do what?”

  “Stay whole.”

  She smiled, but it was a sad, tired smile.

  “I don’t. I just carry my broken pieces differently.”

  He looked at her a long time, studying the shadows on her face, the strength in her jaw, the kindness in her eyes.

  “You always see me,” he said quietly.

  “I always will.”

  He lowered himself gently, slowly—resting his head in her lap.

  Elena looked down at him, fingers brushing back the strands of silver-streaked black hair from his forehead. Her palm lingered there, and he closed his eyes.

  “I’ve got you,” she whispered.

  And for the first time in what felt like forever, Silas slept.

  Elena sat there in silence, the fire now no more than fading embers, and let out a long, slow breath.

  Relief.

  Not because the pain was gone. It never truly left. But because, at least tonight, Silas wasn’t carrying it alone.

  To be continued...