The afternoon wind that passed through Elarion was so gentle and warm, enough to sway the tall banners hanging along the castle towers, enough to make the trees at the edge of the training grounds dance, and enough to reach the quiet edge of the forest behind the walls. Beneath a shady tree, just beyond the clamor of drills and shouted formations, Sora sat alone, his sheathed sword leaning beside him, his presence still palpable even in his silence. He leaned against the tree, his eyes half-closed as sunlight filtered through the branches like golden threads. It was the only place in the city that felt untouched by the urgency, a place where his silence was not an absence but a presence. A place to think, to reflect, and for Sora, a place to reflect on himself before facing the challenge that now lay before him. He didn't know how long he had been sitting there before he heard footsteps approaching through the grass behind the tree. "Contemplating under a tree now, are we? That's supposed to be my job." Namien's familiar voice asked, his tone light. Sora looked up, startled by his sudden appearance, while Namien simply stood beside him with his usual smile, his coat fluttering lightly in the breeze. Namien sat right next to him without waiting for an invitation and gazed at the evening sky as if it owed him a memory. "You know, I've always known you like to be quiet and alone. But lately, you've always been making this expression." Namien said, mimicking a pout before turning to Sora who was watching him. Namien began to grin as usual, but Sora let out a slow breath, and something in his eyes conveyed a distant, faint sadness. It was the same look Namien had demonstrated to him on the day he read the scroll from Solhen. The same sad smile made Namien pause for a moment, then lean back against the tree, using his hands as a pillow for his head. "You're still carrying it, aren't you?" Sora didn't nod at Namien's question, but he couldn't deny it either. They sat there for a few moments, just the two of them knowing what had happened in Solhen's cottage, accompanied only by the rustling of leaves.

  Then Namien tilted his head towards him. "So... you and Kaelith." He began with a sly tone that made Sora's eyebrows raise in surprise. Namien grinned at his expression and continued his question. "Do you love her?" Hearing Namien's question, Sora was instantly shocked, and his face immediately turned red. His mouth fell slightly open, his eyes blinked, and he looked away from Namien, his shoulders tensing as if the question was heavier than his sword. But after a few moments... he gave a single, shy, and honest nod. Namien, seeing his reaction and answer, burst into uncontrollable laughter. "Well, damn you. I didn't expect to get a 'yes' answer that too quickly." he said, trying to calm himself down by slapping his knee. Sora started to cover his face slightly in embarrassment, and Namien leaned in, teasing him. "Don't make that face next time you're in front of her, as if the world is about to collapse. It won't get you a kiss or save her life like a hero arriving at the right time. She's seen enough of your face with her own eyes." Sora, listening to Namien's words, looked at him, caught between annoyance and the complete truth of what Namien was saying.

  Namien's voice lowered slightly, sounding more serious this time. "Don't worry about what might happen, Sora. The things you've imagined... they will come, but don't mind what you'll do next with the risks you take. Time goes on, fate will change the people around you, or maybe not. But now?" Namien pointed his index finger at Sora. "You are still alive and she is still alive, right? And she looks at you as if you are the most important and precious person in her life, perhaps. So don't waste your time thinking about things that haven't happened, or you will lose her. Hold on to what you have right now before the world tries to take her from you, understand?" Sora lowered his head and looked at his palms, then he looked at Namien and nodded slowly at his statement. He reached for his sword, stood up, and bowed respectfully to Namien as his way of saying 'thank you' for the enlightenment. Namien leaned back as Sora walked towards the training grounds, sword in hand, the wind lifting his cloak behind him. The mage chuckled softly to himself. "Oh God... it's hard for me to be young again, especially when feelings of love are involved." he murmured, his complaint long and pitiful. "And here I thought, fire was the most dangerous thing. But apparently not entirely."

  The forge in Thramund's workshop still breathed in the heart of Elarion long after the sun had set. The sound of a hammer falling on heated steel had faded, replaced by the crackle of embers in the forge. Shortly after Thramund rested his sweat-drenched arms, Vael entered quietly, the forge's glow turning his armor the color of copper. "Thramund?" Vael called out in a low voice. A heavy voice echoed from the back. "Yes! Hold on, I'm looking for something back here for you, the throwing knives you mentioned." Vael chuckled softly. "Take your time, Thramund. I came to look around, to see if there's anything else I need from you before the storm arrives." The soft clatter of steel on a rack echoed from the back, and Vael leaned against the workshop wall, observing his surroundings: shields with faded emblems, sharp-looking swords, battle-worn armor, and crossbows hanging like relics. A door creaked open, and another figure stepped inside, wearing a twilight-colored robe. His presence was gentle yet full of authority; it was Solhen Merach. Namien's voice followed from behind him. "There you go, Thramund! Here's someone you might remember, and maybe not if he didn't bring a war with him." Vael turned toward the front door, his eyes narrowing slightly as the robed elder approached him. Solhen nodded slowly at him. "Knight of Borreal," he greeted. Vael straightened up, returning the greeting. "Architect of Silence." They stood for a moment, not as enemies, not quite as allies, but as two men who shouldered the weight of an oath in different ways.

  "...Tell me, Architect of Silence. What does an oath mean to you?" Vael eventually asked. Solhen's eyes looked towards the fire in the forge. "An oath is not just words spoken. It is a chain. Not all chains are shackles. Some bind you to a purpose, a memory, a legacy." Solhen now faced Vael. "An oath is not something you speak to prove loyalty. It is something you fail to break when that loyalty is tested. An oath lives in one's actions, not in one's declarations." Vael's brow furrowed, not in doubt but in thought, and he finally nodded slowly. "...No one has ever put it like that." Solhen smiled. "And you? What does an oath mean to you, Knight of Borreal?" Vael looked towards the glowing embers and a shield on the wall with the faded Borreal emblem. "For me, an oath is about how one's loyalty, which has become their blood and flesh, is tested. Not just to people, but to principles. To endure the things that make us break our oath, even when your kingdom has fallen, and even when you are alone in carrying its every burden." He looked at Solhen. "Because loyalty makes the oath itself feel real and alive when it sacrifices something we have to hold on to." Solhen smiled again, a warm expression as if he had heard something that brought back a long-held memory. "Then we agree on the meaning of an oath, though we walk different paths with the same foundation."

  Footsteps were heard, and Thramund emerged from behind his curtain with a box of steel fittings and a bundle of daggers wrapped in oiled cloth. He froze for a moment when he saw the two of them in quiet conversation. "Well... it seems my workshop will end up housing more than just broken metal," he grumbled, scratching his head. "I should have charged an entrance fee. I never thought I'd see the Architect of Silence and a Knight of Borreal exchanging poetry in my cursed forge." Vael smirked faintly, and Solhen laughed softly at Thramund's grumbling. Thramund handed the bundle to Vael. "Here, reinforced sword hilts and properly weighted for throwing. They won't fail when needed." Vael accepted them with a nod of thanks. In the firelight of the forge, three men stood not as weapons, steel, and fire... but as bearers of burdens and unbroken oaths.

  Night began to settle quietly over Elarion. King Aetheryn Velaros walked slowly in his palace's back garden. It was a calming place, filled with trimmed hedges, soft lanterns, and whispering leaves. The king stopped, his hands behind his back, and his eyes lifted to the night sky, searching for something among the stars. Then, the sound of soft footsteps was heard on the stone path. Namien appeared from a nearby corridor. He stopped when he saw the king. Before Namien could speak, King Aetheryn turned and acknowledged his presence. "Namien, in your opinion, how many stars are alive in the sky tonight?" King Aetheryn asked, his tone calm and clear. Namien stepped forward and stood beside him. "I don't know, Your Majesty. Enough to confuse a drunken cartographer, and not enough for him to map his own destiny by counting them." The king laughed softly at Namien's answer. "Always the absurd poet. But tell me..." he said, his expression turning serious. "Are you not afraid of how all this will end? You... me... even those who are fighting for this place that needs defending?" Namien's expression changed slightly. "I'm not afraid of what might happen. I'm just afraid of what I've done and how it might impact the future, Your Majesty," he said softly, then added reluctantly: "But... I once heard someone say something wiser than I could ever admit." Namien stood a little straighter. "Yesterday is history. Tomorrow is a mystery. But today... today is a gift, Your Majesty." Namien turned to the king, his voice gentle. "That is why they call it present, Your Majesty." King Aetheryn looked at him, the answer sinking deeper than he expected. Then the king smiled, not a royal smile of courtly etiquette, but the weary and grateful smile of a man who had found solace in simplicity. "Thank you, Namien. For walking beside this old man in his silence," he said, his voice softer now. Namien gave a subtle tip of an imaginary hat he was wearing with a half-bow and his usual roguish manner. "As you wish, Your Majesty." They stood there together for a few moments longer, the ruler and the flamboyant mage, under the countless stars, both knowing they were trying to save their home... one choice at a time.

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  Night deepened over Elarion. From the southeastern wall, Kaelith sat alone at her post, her bow leaning beside her. Her gaze was fixed on the stars, but her mind was elsewhere. A streak of light suddenly shot across the sky a shooting star. The sight made Kaelith freeze, her lips slightly parted. "...Just like that night," she whispered to herself. She remembered it clearly, being under a different sky, beside someone for whom she could never find the words. Someone who made her heart beat faster than her thoughts. A soft breath escaped her lips as she smiled faintly. "How foolish of me..."

  Far below the walls of Elarion, Sora walked the quiet, cobbled streets. When he looked up at the sky, his eyes caught something and he stopped to watch. There she was, Kaelith, sitting behind the battlements, her figure outlined by the moonlight, her blonde hair shining like woven silver. For the first time in a long time, a wave of nervousness hit Sora, making him freeze for a moment. The weight of the scroll still rested against his chest, and Namien's words echoed in his mind,

  'Don't make that face next time... as if the world is about to collapse.' Sora took a slow, steadying breath. And finally, he stepped forward, his boots making a soft sound on the stone steps as he walked with quiet determination towards her. At first, Kaelith didn't notice his presence, too lost in the night sky. Sora approached her and gently touched her shoulder. Kaelith jumped, whirling around with wide eyes, her face instantly flushing. "Wha-what-what are you doing here, you idiot?!" she stammered, her heart pounding. Sora blinked for a moment, then awkwardly raised a hand and gave a shy wave as his greeting. 'Hello...?' Kaelith stared at him, and then... she burst into uncontrollable laughter. Sora blinked again, caught between confusion and his own embarrassment. Kaelith wiped the corner of her eye, still giggling. "My god, you... you look like a kicked kitten trying to sneak into a barn." Sora rubbed the back of his neck, his eyes glancing to the side. Kaelith patted the stone floor beside her. "Alright. Sit here and keep me company, Silent One."

  They passed a moment in comfortable silence. After a while, Kaelith spoke again, her voice softer. "I was just thinking... about how I used to wish on falling stars when I was little. How foolish of me, right?" Sora looked at her for a moment, then at the sky, and shook his head. Seeing his reaction, Kaelith smiled a little. "...I've never made a wish that actually came true before." She hesitated, then just shrugged. "Maybe I was too afraid to wish for what I really wanted back then." Sora looked at her again, but this time Kaelith didn't meet his gaze. Instead, she began to lean slowly to the side, gently resting her head on his shoulder. They were both silent, looking at the night sky. Kaelith closed her eyes, her voice almost a whisper. "I'm going to make one wish right now, and grant me this one." She continued her plea in a half-asleep mumble. "I wish... whatever happens next... we'll still be here. You and me... watching the stars again." Sora looked at the sky, his heart pounding, and this time, he made no gesture. But silently, Sora made the same wish. Together, under a sky that listened without speaking, two hearts rested side by side... before the storm.

  Two weeks passed in a shadow of training and steel. The city of Elarion prepared itself like a lung holding its breath, waiting. Now, the War Conference was held again. The long table was now completely taken over by a battlefield replica carved from stone, with meticulously sculpted ridges, forests, and rivers. Miniature banners stood for Elarion's forces, while red tokens marked the enemy's expected path. Solhen stood at the edge of the table, right beside King Aetheryn, while Sora, Kaelith, Vael, and Namien occupied positions beside him. Solhen's voice broke the silence. "One week. That's the time we have left, according to the scouts." He pointed to the latest scout markers placed along the northern and eastern paths. "Our observers confirm a force of more than five thousand, marching in a very neat and deliberate formation. Armored carts in the center, black banners, and no delay. They are not scouting us as we prepare; they will arrive sooner or right on time."

  A wave of unease spread through the room. Then Solhen's eyes turned to the four beside him. "I will ask clearly, what about your troop placements?" Kaelith spoke first. "The archers are divided as previously ordered. The forest unit moves as if they've been hunting wolves since birth, and the wall unit can fire two shots per breath." Vael gave his report after her. "The infantry formations are holding against assault drills. The cavalry has adapted to relaying signals. The defensive posture is tight, and their shields will hold longer, even under a barrage of blunt fire." Solhen nodded. Namien spoke up, though hesitantly. "The siege engines are ready. The oil traps are set. The bait has been briefed. We will burn the fields if they get close enough."

  Solhen tapped the map once. "Then the shape is set. But there is one more piece. One more variable that determines the outcome." He paused, looking at the red stone tokens creeping in from the north. Namien, who had been unusually quiet, finally spoke, his voice lower. "...The wind, isn't it?" Solhen didn't look at him, and this made Namien step forward, his voice a little sharper now. "You said it would blow hard, didn't you? But two weeks have passed, and nothing has changed. The sky is clear, and the air is so calm." Solhen finally turned to him and smiled. "Let me handle the wind," he said calmly. Namien's eyes widened. He stared at Solhen, his voice almost a whisper. "...Are you going to do it?" The room fell silent, and even the commanders looked around in confusion and sudden tension. Solhen simply nodded. Namien's breath caught, his jaw tightening, his expression a mix of shock and reluctant acceptance. Kaelith leaned towards Vael and whispered, "What does that mean?" Vael narrowed his eyes. "It means we're about to see something that isn't taught in any war college."

  Namien finally spoke again, calmer this time. "You'll need support mages. A ritual like that can't be done just like that, and even if you do it... maintaining it during the battle—" "Only one person, at the altar, and that's all I need," Solhen interrupted, raising a single finger. Namien's face slowly became unreadable. "You already know the location, don't you?" Solhen nodded. "The ruins behind Valecrest Ridge. There's a still-buried conduit there, forgotten since the fall of Azure College. I will try to awaken it once more, and that will take a considerable amount of time for an ordinary person." Namien closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them again and, without another word, looked at the king and said: "...Then we stick to the plan." The fire trap, the bait, the signals, and now... the wind. Everything was coming together, everything would burn, and in the one week that remained, the world would remember Elarion... or bury it.