The camp was quiet, the sounds of battle now a distant memory, replaced by the muted crackle of campfires and the soft murmurs of the wounded.
Lyra wandered through the maze of tents, her steps hesitant as she searched for her brother. The weight of the night pressed heavily on her chest, the grief and exhaustion threatening to consume her.
She found him sitting on a fallen log near the edge of the camp, his broad shoulders hunched, his head buried in his hands.
The sight of Eryon, always so strong and unyielding, now crumbling under the weight of his sorrow, sent a pang of pain through Lyra’s chest.
“Eryon,” she said softly, her voice barely audible.
He didn’t respond immediately, his body motionless except for the faint rise and fall of his breath. Finally, he lifted his head, and Lyra’s heart broke at the sight of his face.
His amber eyes, usually so fierce and alive, were hollow and rimmed with red. His expression was one of pure anguish.
“She’s gone, Lyra,” he said, his voice cracking. “She’s gone, and I couldn’t save her.”
Lyra moved closer, kneeling beside him. Her hands hovered uncertainly before resting on his knee.
“Eryon, it’s not your fault,” she said, her voice trembling. “She did what she had to do to protect her child.”
He shook his head, his hands clenching into fists.
“I should’ve been there. I should’ve stopped it. I should’ve… I should’ve done something.” His voice rose with every word, frustration and guilt spilling out in raw waves.
“You were fighting for her,” Lyra said gently. “For her and her baby. And she knew that. She knew you were doing everything you could.”
Eryon’s gaze dropped to the ground, his hands trembling. “And now, all I have left of her is that child. Her baby is the only piece of her that remains.”
Lyra tightened her grip on his knee, her silver eyes glinting with determination. “Then we’ll protect her,” she said firmly. “We’ll keep her safe, no matter what. I promise you, Eryon.”
He nodded slowly, though the weight of his grief didn’t lessen. “That’s all I have left of her,” he repeated, his voice barely above a whisper.
Lyra placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, her touch steady and grounding. She didn’t know what else to say, but she silently vowed to keep her promise.
No matter what it took, Misery’s sacrifice would not be in vain.