Chapter 24: Aftermath

The damp, heavy air of the cavern clung to Daniel as he slumped against the rough wall, his breaths uneven and strained. The aftermath of the battle had left him drained, his muscles aching and his mind spinning with the fresh, painful memory of Faelar’s last moments. Around him, Roderic, Tristan, and Seraphina stirred, their faces etched with exhaustion, each bearing bruises and cuts that testified to the ferocity of their recent struggle.

Roderic leaned heavily against the wall beside Daniel, pressing a hand to his side to staunch the blood seeping through his fingers. His face grew paler as he summoned a faint green glow over the wound—a self-healing skill, Daniel presumed, though the effort left him visibly weaker. Across the cavern, Tristan and Seraphina sat on the cold floor, their gazes fixed on the spot where Faelar had fallen. His absence seemed to weigh upon them, an invisible force pressing down, raw and unyielding.

Daniel shifted, the sharp ache in his leg a constant reminder of his own injuries. He looked over the group, his voice low and strained as he broke the silence.

“We need to move… This place… it’s tainted with something darker than just aether.”

Roderic nodded, though his expression was clouded. “What happened, Daniel?” he asked, his voice steady, but his eyes held a mix of dread and curiosity. “Where is Faelar? The creature?”

Daniel swallowed, his throat dry as he recalled the final moments. He felt the words catch, but he forced himself to continue. They deserved to know.

“The creature… it was stronger than we anticipated. We fought it together, and somehow, we managed to take it down.” He paused, his gaze dropping to the cavern floor. “But it wasn’t the end. The creature released something—an aura, or maybe a curse. It was… corrupted. That darkness… I guess it latched onto Faelar.” His voice cracked, and he took a shaky breath to steady himself.

“Faelar tried to resist,” Daniel continued, his voice hollow. “But it was taking him over, twisting him. I could see him fighting, but it was too late… he was losing himself. And in that moment…” He faltered, his hands trembling. “He turned on me. I had no choice.”

The words hung heavy in the silence that followed, the weight of them seeming to echo off the cavern walls. Tristan’s eyes widened, his face pale as he processed Daniel’s words.

“You… killed him?” Tristan’s voice was barely a whisper, disbelief etched across his face as though the words didn’t quite make sense."

Daniel nodded, his gaze distant, fixed on some unseen memory. “It was either him or me. He had such anger,” he replied, his voice strained. “I didn’t want to fight him, but the corruption twisted him. He was so angry, and there was no reasoning with him. I’m sorry. I did try… but he was too skilled, and I couldn’t risk half-measures.”

Seraphina’s eyes filled with tears, though she blinked them away quickly, swallowing back her grief. “It’s not your fault, Daniel. We believe you.” Her voice cracked, and she lowered her head, her shoulders shaking as she tried to contain the pain.

Roderic’s hand clenched, his jaw tightening as he absorbed the revelation. “You did what you had to,” he said quietly. “It was the corruption from that Thing that did this, not you. Better to fall by the blade of an ally than to become whatever he was turning into.”

Roderic turned his head towards Seraphina and Tristan, “You two were out before seeing this creature properly, luckily. Even I could feel the mental pressure emanating as I got close to the bastard. It’s a miracle he lasted as long as he did and that Daniel didn’t turn.”

The gruff captain fixed his gaze pointedly on Daniel. “How didn’t you turn? Someone your level should have no chance. Elves are known to have an affinity against magic, humans aren’t.”

Daniel met the eyes of his captain as he pondered what to say, deciding in the moment to simply tell the truth. “The truth is, I’m… not from this world. I was summoned here a couple of months ago by a man named Dricus. Apparently, there’s something special about me, though I still don’t know exactly what. I would imagine whatever that thing is, is what kept me safe. I’d rather you didn’t share this with anyone and I’m sure you have lots of questions but that’s really all I can say.”

After Daniel’s explanation, Seraphina’s expression softened, and she nodded slightly, her gaze lingering on him as if seeing him in a new light. “Then… that explains a lot. The gaps in knowledge, for one.”

“Maybe that’s why you got so good, so quickly,” Tristan added.

Daniel nodded, attempting to gauge what Roderic was thinking, as the Lycanys remained silent, simply staring at Daniel blankly.

“I’ll be honest, I have no idea what to make of that. It’s beyond my pay grade. I’ll keep your secret but Aric will need to know what happened here. Where is the body?” Roderic asked, his head scanning the cavern.

They all sat in silence as Daniel attempted to phrase his reply, each of them wrestling with the weight of what had happened, of the sacrifice Faelar had made—and the cost at which it had come. A chill settled over them, the cavern’s damp air pressing in, and for a moment, it felt as though the darkness that had claimed Faelar was still lurking, watching from the shadows.

Daniel was trying everything to restrain his tics for a more appropriate time, which only seemed to cause them to grow more insistent. He quickly slapped his face but managed to disguise it as brushing his hair out of his eyes.

“Well, there was another thing… Someone showed up after our fight. He called himself the Umbral? If that means anything to you. He seemed to be the one behind all of this. I feel like he could have crushed me in a second, but chose not to. No idea why. He took Faelar’s body with some magic or skill.” Daniel mentioned, his cautious glances sweeping the edges of the cavern.

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

The group remained silent, as if waiting for Daniel to carry on. Roderic turned his head to scan the vicinity.

“He said a bunch of stuff about change coming, mortals being shite and some other foreboding things. I couldn’t really make sense out of most of it.”

After a moment, Daniel forced himself to his feet, his voice firm despite the sorrow that lingered. “We’ll honour Faelar,” he said softly, his gaze sweeping over the others. “We’ll make sure he’s remembered. But now, we have to go. This place… it’s not safe.”

Roderic stood to his feet and swivelled slowly, grimacing as he tested his wounds. “Aye, let’s get moving. Stay sharp and call out anything unusual immediately.”

The group rose slowly, each of them moving with the weight of grief, their steps hesitant as they made their way toward the cavern’s exit. The faint glow of unique mushrooms illuminated their path, casting long shadows as they walked. The silence was heavy, the unspoken grief binding them closer even as it threatened to pull them apart.

Tristan rubbed his temples, his face pale and haunted. “I can’t believe he’s gone. Faelar… he was insufferable at times, but he fought harder than any of us.” His voice was thick with emotion, and he looked away, blinking back tears.

Seraphina reached over, her gentle hand resting on his shoulder. “He was one of us, and he saved our lives more than once. We owe him our survival.” Her voice held a rare firmness, as though she clung to the memory of Faelar to keep herself grounded in the wake of his loss.

The words hung in the air, filling the silence that followed. With a deep breath, Roderic pushed himself off the wall, the faint green light fading from his wound as he straightened. “Let’s go.”

----------------------------------------

The group began their slow, painful journey out of the cavern, their steps echoing in the oppressive quiet. Daniel kept an eye on each of them, his gaze lingering on the shadows that seemed to shift and twist at the edges of his vision. The faint glow of mushrooms cast eerie reflections, making the journey feel more like a descent into some dark memory than a path back to safety.

As they walked, Seraphina tried to lift their spirits with a soft, almost hesitant laugh. “Remember that time Faelar tried to teach us ‘elven combat balance’?” She managed a weak smile, glancing at Tristan. “He called it an ‘art form,’ but it was really just an excuse to laugh at us all tripping over our own feet, I swear.”

Tristan let out a half-hearted chuckle, though his face remained sombre. “He was brutal about it too. Every time I tripped, he’d give me that look—like I’d just offended all of elvenkind.” He glanced over at Daniel, a flicker of warmth breaking through his sadness. “But, you know… he still stayed behind to make sure I got it, even if he’d never admit it.”

Daniel nodded, the ghost of a smile on his face. “Yeah, that sounds like Faelar. Always pretending to be above it all, but he had a heart under that arrogant exterior.” His gaze grew distant. “I think he cared about all of us more than he’d ever admit.”

Their shared memories seemed to lighten the weight of grief, if only slightly, and by the time they reached the entrance of the cavern, the heaviness in their chests had softened into something more manageable, a sorrow tempered by the faint glow of camaraderie.

----------------------------------------

Emerging into the open air, the city of Sylvara lay just in the distance, its familiar towers and walls a beacon of safety against the darkening sky. Daniel felt a mix of relief and fatigue settle over him as he caught sight of the city, but the faint ache in his chest reminded him that their return wasn’t much of a victory.

They made their way back to the Consortium slowly, each step a reminder of their fatigue, each glance between them a silent acknowledgment of the loss they’d endured. When they reached the entrance, Aric Veldorn was there, his stern, weathered face unreadable as he took in their haggard forms. He looked at each of them in turn, his gaze finally landing on the absence among them.

“Faelar?” he asked, his voice quiet, that one word carrying the weight of an unsaid eulogy.

Roderic took a step forward, his face pale but resolute. “No. He fought until the end. Gave everything he had.” His voice was steady, but his eyes reflected the deep sadness that seemed to hang over them all.

Aric inclined his head in silent respect. “Then we will honour him. You’ve all earned a few days rest. Take the time you need. We will debrief you all later. Except for you, of course, Captain Roderic.”

Roderic nodded solemnly as the group exchanged silent glances, the offer of rest both a relief and a reminder of the weight they bore. As they disbanded, each made their way to their quarters in silence, the absence of Faelar an unspoken shadow.

----------------------------------------

That evening, Daniel sat alone in his room, the walls of the small chamber pressing in around him. Only now did Daniel realise how much he’d come to rely on Faelar, despite—or maybe because of—that arrogance and those constant sneers. Now, the thought of never seeing him again clawed at him, a fresh ache that had no outlet. He was his rival but he knew for a fact he wouldn’t be half as skilled if not for Faelar challenging him.

He clenched his fists, feeling a familiar tension rise within him. The tics that he’d managed to suppress throughout the day now surfaced with force, each twitch and jerk a reminder of the emotions he hadn’t yet processed. His hand flew up to his face in an involuntary punch, the sharp sting grounding him momentarily. He let out a low, strained laugh. ‘Great timing,’ he muttered, though his voice trembled.

The tics grew more insistent, a mix of exhaustion and grief making them impossible to control. His head jerked to the side, his hand twitching, each movement a release of the tension that had built up inside him throughout the day. As he tried to steady himself, a quiet knock sounded at the door, startling him.

“Oh. Uh… Come in,” he called, his voice faint and rough.

The door opened, and Izabelle stepped inside, her eyes soft yet steady, knowing she was about to face something heavy. She moved to sit beside him, her presence immediately calming, a quiet comfort in the dimly lit room.

“It’s okay, Daniel,” she murmured, reaching out to place a gentle, reassuring hand on his shoulder. “I saw you earlier… You don’t have to keep it all in.”

He met her gaze, his blue eyes brimming with unspoken pain, hands still trembling as he spoke. “I… I killed Faelar today.” His voice cracked, the weight of the admission forcing him to look away, ashamed by the surge of grief and regret.

Izabelle tightened her grip on his shoulder, her voice a balm, steady and warm. “Tell me what happened.”

Daniel took a shuddering breath, searching for words to explain. “He… I thought he was just being a dick at first. But he was corrupted by something we fought. He completely lost his shit and tried to kill me. It wasn’t his fault though, he was under some influence.” He paused, struggling. “He attacked me and wouldn’t stop.”

Izabelle nodded, her understanding unwavering as she listened, her silence an invitation to share more.

“I thought maybe… maybe I could talk him down. But he wouldn’t listen. It was him or…” Daniel’s voice trailed off, the unspoken truth thickening the air between them. He buried his face in his hands, trying to shake off the image of Faelar's final moments.

Izabelle gently guided his hands away from his face, holding them in her own. “Daniel, it sounds like you did what you had to. I know that doesn’t make it easier. Whatever controlled him did this, not you.”

They shared a quiet moment, finding solace in each other's presence as the weight of the day settled into silence. In that stillness, Daniel began to feel the smallest spark of convalescence—a fragile but real resilience, growing amidst the darkness. Despite the day's horrors, he still had his family—the anchor that kept him steady amid the chaos.