The forest was eerily silent in the aftermath of the ogre's fall, its massive body a crumpled heap among splintered trees and churned earth.
The air still carried the coppery tang of blood and the acrid sting of mana residue, a bitter reminder of the fight that had nearly claimed them all.
Kaelith stumbled forward, his small frame swaying with each uneven step, his boots scuffing against roots and pebbles.
His right arm hung limp at his side, the shoulder torn and bloodied where the ogre's jagged teeth had found purchase.
Pain throbbed with every movement, but he gritted his teeth and pressed on, his silver hair plastered to his forehead with sweat.
Beside him, Lirien limped along, her breaths coming in sharp, ragged gasps. Her left leg dragged slightly, the knee swollen and bruised beneath her torn trousers, a souvenir from when the ogre's club had grazed her.
She clutched the broken hilt of her sword in one hand, the blade snapped clean off during the fight, her knuckles white around the useless grip.
Her auburn hair hung in tangled strands over her face, but her green eyes burned with a stubborn fire, refusing to let the pain slow her down.
"We're almost there," Kaelith rasped, his voice hoarse from shouting spells during the battle. He glanced toward the thinning trees ahead, where the faint outline of Talsara's wooden palisade shimmered in the distance. The twin suns of Aerithas were climbing higher, their golden light filtering through the canopy in dappled patches. "Just… keep moving."
Lirien nodded, her jaw tight. "I'm fine," she muttered, though the hitch in her step told a different story.
She shifted her weight, wincing as her knee buckled briefly, forcing her to catch herself against a tree. Bark scraped her palm, and she hissed through her teeth. "Stupid leg."
Kaelith paused, his own legs trembling beneath him.
He wanted to help her, to offer a shoulder or a hand, but his body screamed in protest at the thought.
His mana was spent, his vampiric healing sluggish without fresh blood to fuel it.
The hunger gnawed at his stomach, a dull ache that made his head swim, but he shoved it down. They had to get back—had to reach safety.
The sound of heavy footsteps crunching through the undergrowth made them both tense, hands twitching toward weapons they could barely wield.
But it was only Talren, emerging from the shadows of the trees, his broad frame towering over them.
His tunic was streaked with dirt and ogre blood, his axe still slung across his back, its blade chipped from the fight. His face was a mask of grim determination, but his dark eyes softened as they landed on the two children.
"What are you doing?" Talren's voice was low, rough with exhaustion, but there was an edge to it—something between disbelief and frustration.
Kaelith straightened as best he could, wiping sweat from his brow. "Walking back," he said, trying to sound steady. "We're close."
Talren's gaze flicked to Lirien, then back to Kaelith, taking in their battered states—the blood, the bruises, the way they swayed like saplings in a storm. His brows furrowed, and he stepped closer, his shadow falling over them. "You're not walking anywhere," he said flatly. "Not like this."
"I can manage," Kaelith protested, though his voice cracked, betraying him. He took a step forward to prove it, but his legs buckled, and he nearly went down. Only a quick grab at a branch saved him, his fingers trembling as they gripped the wood.
Lirien opened her mouth to argue, but a sharp wince cut her off as she shifted her weight again. She glared at the ground, as if it were to blame for her weakness, then muttered, "We're not helpless."
Talren snorted, a sound that was half exasperation, half fondness. "Never said you were. But you're done pushing yourselves today." Before either could object further, he knelt, scooping Kaelith up in one arm and lifting Lirien with the other. Kaelith squirmed briefly, his pride stinging, but Talren's grip was iron, unyielding.
"Put me down," Kaelith grumbled, his face flushing despite his pallor. "I'm not a baby."
"You're my son," Talren shot back, adjusting his hold so Kaelith was slung over his shoulder, "and you're half-dead. Stop arguing." He hoisted Lirien more securely against his chest, her legs dangling, and started walking. His strides were long and steady, the kind of pace that ate up distance without faltering, even with the added weight.
Lirien clutched her broken sword hilt tighter, her voice muffled against Talren's tunic. "My blade's gone," she said, a note of despair creeping in. "I couldn't save it."
"We'll forge you a new one," Talren replied, his tone gentler now. "A better one. Rest now."
The forest blurred past as Talren carried them, the trees giving way to open fields just beyond Talsara's gates. The suns blazed overhead, their light spilling across the grass in a golden flood. Kaelith felt the warmth first—a pleasant heat that quickly sharpened into something else. His skin prickled, then burned, a searing pain that raced up his arms and across his neck. He gasped, twisting in Talren's grip, his hands clawing at his face to shield it.
"Dad—it's burning!" Kaelith's voice was shrill, panic clawing at his throat as red welts erupted over his pale skin.
Talren stopped dead, nearly dropping Lirien as he swung Kaelith around to look at him. "What's happening?" he demanded, his eyes wide.
"The sun," Kaelith choked out, his breath hitching as the pain intensified. His skin blistered, peeling in angry streaks, the vampiric blood in his veins recoiling from the light. "It hurts—make it stop!"
Lirien's head snapped up, her exhaustion forgotten. "Talren, his skin—it's falling apart!" she cried, pointing at the raw patches spreading across Kaelith's arms.