Two Weeks Later

Nyx’s journey south continued under a canopy of dense trees, the sounds of the forest her only company. The morning sun filtered through the foliage in soft beams, dappling the path ahead of her with shifting patterns of light and shadow. Her steps were slow, deliberate, as if the weight of the past weeks was a constant pressure on her shoulders.

She wasn’t sure where she was heading. She just knew she couldn’t stay still. The thought of the village—the flames, the lifeless faces of those she cared for—clung to her mind like a shadow she couldn’t escape.

“If I had been there… If I had just been faster,” Nyx whispered to herself, her voice heavy with regret. Her fingers brushed her cloak flowing alongside of her, a comforting reminder of her strength, even as guilt gnawed at her.

“You can’t carry this forever,” Uriel’s voice echoed in her mind, calm but firm.

“But I could’ve saved him,” Nyx shot back, her tone laced with frustration and pain. “I should’ve saved all of them.”

Uriel fell silent for a moment before replying. “Perhaps. But dwelling on what you cannot change will only weigh you down further. Keep moving forward.”

Nyx didn’t answer. She simply adjusted her cloak and trudged deeper into the forest.

The days stretched into a monotonous rhythm. She spent her mornings walking, her afternoons foraging, and her evenings resting by a small fire. The forest offered just enough to sustain her: sweet berries, bitter greens, and the occasional cluster of mushrooms. When luck favored her, she’d catch sight of a rabbit or a pheasant. With a quick motion, Nyx reached into her infinity sheath, summoning one of her daggers. It appeared in her hand like a shadow materializing from the air, weightless and ready. Her aim was always true, and the satisfying thud of a catch brought a brief flicker of pride. These small victories gave her sustenance, though they never filled the emptiness in her chest.

She found lakes nestled between the trees, their surfaces shimmering under the moonlight. She bathed there, the icy water shocking her senses and offering a temporary reprieve from her thoughts. The clear water washed away the grime of her travels, though it couldn’t cleanse the heaviness that lingered in her heart.

At night, Nyx sat by the crackling flames of her campfire, staring into the dancing embers as if seeking answers. Her shadow companions would occasionally emerge from her domain, standing silently around her like sentinels. She didn’t speak to them much. What could she say?

On the eleventh day, the forest changed. The trees grew taller, their trunks thicker and covered in creeping moss. The air turned cooler, carrying a faint, unfamiliar scent—one that hinted at the sea.

“South is leading us somewhere,” Uriel commented. “There’s purpose in this direction, even if you don’t see it yet.”

“Purpose?” Nyx murmured, brushing a strand of silver hair from her face. “What purpose could there possibly be for someone like me now?”

Uriel’s response was measured. “You’ll find out when the time comes. Trust in the journey.”

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As she walked, her thoughts returned to Till. His smile. His unwavering support. The way he’d never given up hope, even when the world seemed against him. She touched the pouch at her side—the one he had protected with his life. It was a bittersweet comfort, a piece of him she carried with her.

The guilt still clung to her, but now there was something else, too—a simmering resolve. If she couldn’t save him, she would make sure his sacrifice wasn’t in vain. She would become stronger, stronger than she’d ever thought possible.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, Nyx found herself atop a rocky hill overlooking a sprawling valley. The view was breathtaking—rolling forests, distant mountains, and a faint glimmer of the ocean far off on the horizon.

She sat on a flat stone, letting the cool breeze play with her hair. For the first time in weeks, she allowed herself to simply breathe, her gaze lost in the vastness of the landscape.

“We’ll find our path,” Nyx whispered, her voice steady but soft. “Even if it takes me a lifetime.”

Her shadow companions gathered around her silently, their presence a quiet reassurance. Somewhere in the distance, a lone bird called out, its cry echoing through the fading light.

The journey south was far from over. But for the first time since the village fell, Nyx felt a faint glimmer of hope—a spark that refused to be extinguished.

After days of relentless walking, every step felt heavier, each breath a reminder of the weight she carried in her chest. Nyx’s body ached, her muscles screaming in protest, but it was nothing compared to the dull, gnawing pain inside her.

She was tired—tired of the endless cycle of grief that life seemed determined to thrust upon her. Tired of the memories that replayed in her mind: the faces of those she had loved and lost, the laughter now silenced, and the warmth now gone. Her family, her home, her sanctuary—all torn from her, not once, but twice.

Her amethyst eyes burned, tears threatening to spill, but she refused to let them fall. Her heart, already cracked and broken, seemed to harden further as she clenched her fists at her sides.

“Never again,” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the rustle of the wind.

The pain, the anger, the sadness—they all swirled together, igniting something deep within her. She would not allow herself to remain powerless. She would not let her grief anchor her.

Instead, she vowed to rise above it.

“I’ll get stronger,” she said, her voice steady now, laced with a quiet determination. “Stronger than anyone, stronger than anything.”

She would become a force too formidable to lose, too unyielding to break. It was the only way forward—the only way to ensure that no one else she cared about would ever be taken from her again.

Nyx trudged along the narrow dirt path, her steps heavy and aimless. Her silver hair, once flowing with pride, now hung limp beneath her hood, brushing against her dark veil. She moved with a slouched gait, her mind adrift, not caring where her feet carried her.

Her surroundings blurred into an indistinct canvas of trees and scattered sunlight. She paid them no mind. The ache of her body and the hollow pain in her chest dulled everything else. She was too consumed by her thoughts to notice the faint rumble of approaching wheels.

The sound grew louder until a gleaming Starbound Dray slowed to a stop beside her. The cart was a marvel of craftsmanship—a sturdy yet graceful structure. The faint glow of its wooden wheels, inscribed with intricate silver runes, caught the waning light. Pulled by two black, ethereal steeds whose hooves barely touched the ground, it radiated an aura of quiet power. It was a sight that could inspire awe, yet Nyx barely raised her head.

The rider, a middle-aged man dressed in a simple, well-worn coat, guided the magical steeds with ease. His sharp eyes scanned Nyx’s fatigued form, his concern evident as he gently pulled the reins, halting the Dray just ahead of her.

He leaned slightly from his perch, his voice warm but laced with worry. “Are you alright?”

Nyx stopped in her tracks but didn’t look up immediately. Her shoulders remained hunched, and her hands stayed at her sides.

“Do you need a ride?” he asked, his tone kinder this time, as if coaxing her to lift her gaze.

Slowly, Nyx tilted her head up, her amethyst eyes peeking from under her veil, their light dulled with exhaustion. She didn’t answer right away, her silence speaking volumes. The rider waited patiently, the steady glow of the Dray casting soft light over the path.