Eloise**
Everything hurt.
My fingers trembled as I clutched my pen, the ink shimmering unnaturally against the page. My vision blurred, my breath coming in ragged gasps. I had already pushed myself past my limit, but I wasn't done yet.
Not until he won.
The battle raged around me, the heat of the dragon's flames scorching the air. Warriors clashed steel against scale, arrows rained from the cliffs, and Caius—Caius fought like a storm, his blade striking true, his body moving with a deadly grace.
But the dragon was relentless.
Wounded, enraged, it let out a deafening roar, its massive form thrashing, knocking warriors aside like dolls. It was desperate now, sensing its approaching demise, and desperation made it even more dangerous.
Caius wasn't fast enough.
I could see it—the slight miscalculation, the way his stance faltered for just a second. The dragon's massive claws slashed toward him, and in that moment, I knew—he wouldn't be able to dodge in time.
I didn't think. I *wrote.*
**Caius finds the opening. His sword, swift as lightning, cuts through the weak spot beneath the dragon's neck.**
A sharp pain stabbed through my chest as the words burned onto the page. My entire body seized, as if I had just torn something out of myself.
But I saw it happen.
Caius moved just as I had written. His eyes flickered with understanding—no, instinct—as if he knew this moment was meant to be. His grip tightened around his sword, and with one final step, he *drove* the blade upward, straight into the dragon's throat.
The world held its breath.
The dragon let out a strangled, guttural sound—one last, terrible gasp—before its massive body shuddered. Its wings twitched, its claws dug into the ground. And then—
It collapsed.
The battlefield fell into silence.
For a moment, no one moved. No one spoke. Even the wind had died down, as if the world itself was acknowledging the end of the battle.
Then, a roar of victory erupted from the warriors.
The dwarf clan cheered, weapons raised, voices filled with relief and triumph. I could barely hear them, my heartbeat loud in my ears.
Caius stood over the dragon's corpse, his chest rising and falling with exhaustion, his sword slick with blood. His gaze lifted toward me, as if searching for my face amidst the chaos.
I wanted to smile at him, to tell him that he had won. That everything had gone as planned.
But the world was spinning.
I had done too much.
The ink on my page flickered, dimming like a dying ember. My fingers slipped from my pen. My body swayed.
Before the darkness took me, I had only one thought.
*Caius won.*
And that was enough.
Caius**
The dragon was dead.
But I couldn't breathe.
Eloise's body crumpled to the ground, her small form barely a shadow against the battlefield soaked in fire and blood.
"*Eloise!*"
My sword fell from my grip as I ran. My chest tightened, my vision tunneled, and for the first time since the war that ruined me, I felt true, gut-wrenching *fear.*
I dropped to my knees beside her, hands shaking as I reached out. She was so still. Too still.
"*No, no, no...*" I whispered, my fingers hovering just above her face, afraid—*terrified*—that if I touched her, she would disappear.
I pressed my palm against her cheek. Cold.
My heart stopped.
Then—I felt it.
A breath. Faint. Shallow. But there.
She was alive.
A choked sound broke from my throat, something raw and desperate. My hands curled into fists against the dirt, my body trembling from the overwhelming relief that crashed over me.
And then, to everyone's horror, I let out a sob.
A wretched, broken sound that had no place on the battlefield.
The warriors, the dwarves, even my old friend stood in stunned silence as I *cried.* Not from pain. Not from exhaustion.
But from *fear.*
Because for that single moment, I thought I had lost her.
Again.
And I couldn't—I *wouldn't* survive that.
I clutched her hand, pressing it against my forehead, my shoulders shaking. "You idiot," I whispered, my voice hoarse. "You *stupid, reckless woman*..."
No response.
Just the quiet rise and fall of her chest.
I didn't let go.
"Caius."
I barely registered the voice until a firm hand rested on my shoulder. I looked up, my vision blurred, to see my old friend kneeling beside me. There was no mockery in his gaze. No judgment. Only understanding.
"She needs rest," he said softly. "We need to return to the city."
I swallowed hard and nodded.
Carefully, I lifted Eloise into my arms, holding her close against me. She was lighter than I remembered, as if the battle had drained something from her.
I stood, carrying her away from the battlefield, and no one dared to stop me.
### **Three Days Later**
Eloise hadn't woken up.
I sat beside her bed in the dwarf city, elbows resting on my knees, eyes locked on her sleeping face.
She looked peaceful. It infuriated me.
Did she have any idea what she had done to me? How *stupidly* she had risked herself?
I ran a hand through my hair, sighing heavily.
I hadn't left this room since we returned. Not once. The dwarves brought me food, water, even tried to convince me to rest—but how could I?
I refused to leave her alone.
Not this time. Not ever again.