For once, there was no alarm, no rallying cry, no whisper of Queens or Hearts. Just life.
Elaris and Elyra walked side by side along the path toward the marketplace — the father and daughter simply being, for the first time in months.
She wore a soft green tunic that caught the light in rippling hues, her bow slung loosely across her shoulder. He looked almost like the man he might have been before the Lattice — coat open, hair wind-tossed, eyes bright with something close to peace.
Elyra (grinning): “It’s weird seeing you outside your study, you know. The big bad Necromancer in daylight.”
Elaris (dryly): “Shocking, isn’t it? I hear it’s good for the complexion.”
They laughed. And the sound, unburdened and human, made people turn — not because they were heroes, but because they were happy.
They spent the morning wandering the markets. Elyra bartered for pastries she didn’t need; Elaris pretended not to notice her “accidentally” buying twice as many.
At a shaded table outside the Ember Tankard, they settled with tea and honeyed bread.
Elyra: “Tell me how you met everyone. Properly this time. Not the boring ‘they joined my expedition’ answer.”
Elaris chuckled, settling back. “All right. Garruk first. I was escorting a trade cart through the outer roads — your mother’s bow would’ve been useful that day. A bandit attack. Garruk jumped in with nothing but a barrel lid and a roar. Scared them off before I’d even finished my first spell.”
Elyra laughed, picturing it.
Elyra: “That tracks. He probably kept the barrel.”
Elaris: “He did. Called it ‘Keg of Destiny’ for a week.”
They went on.
Borin, drunk and proud, arm-wrestling half the tavern before Elaris recruited him.
Vex and Laz, the infernal twins, luring Elaris into a game of dice to “test his luck” — and promptly losing to his uncanny precision.
Arden, quiet in the corner of the same tavern, drinking tea amid the chaos.
Kaer, stoic, refusing to join until Elaris out-stubborned him with sheer patience.
And Sereth…
He smiled, softer now.
Elaris: “She was tracking me, actually. Thought I was a necromancer gone rogue. She was right — just not about the ‘rogue’ part.”
Elyra beamed. “She must’ve been terrifying.”
Elaris: “Gracefully terrifying, yes. She had that same look she gives Garruk when he uses the forge wrong.”
Elyra (smiling): “Mum would’ve loved her.”
Elaris froze. The words hung like a spark in still air.
He looked at his daughter, then smiled faintly.
Elaris: “She did.”
Elyra blinked. “What do you mean?”
He turned his tea slowly, eyes distant with memory.
Elaris: “When I went into Sereth’s mind — to free her from Varsha — Lyra was there. Or what remains of her. She spoke to Sereth and me both. Gave us her blessing.”
Elyra’s lips parted, eyes bright with sudden tears.
Elaris (quietly): “She wanted you to know she’s proud. That she loves the woman you’ve become.”
Elyra launched forward, wrapping him in a fierce hug that nearly spilled his tea.
Elyra: “Dad, please never leave me again.”
Elaris (voice breaking): “Never again.”
Later, as they walked the ridge toward home, Elyra’s voice softened.
Elyra: “When Silvenna had me… I thought that was it. That I’d lost you all forever. You couldn’t hear me, couldn’t see me. What if it happens again?”
She looked down at her boots, flexing her toes as if checking they were still flesh and not glass.
Elaris stopped, placed a hand over hers.
Elaris: “It didn’t. And it won’t. We felt you, Elyra. The Lattice sang in pain when you were taken. Sereth and I would have torn every mirror in creation apart to reach you.”
Elyra managed a trembling smile. “I know. Guess we’re stuck together, huh?”
Elaris: “Hopelessly.”
They reached Thornmere by evening. The Ember Tankard glowed with lantern light and the smell of roasting meat.
Sereth waited outside, leaning against the doorframe, hair catching gold in the lamplight.
Elyra’s face lit up.
Elyra: “Mum!”
She ran forward and threw her arms around Sereth so hard the ranger laughed through a gasp.
Sereth (laughing): “By the gods, girl, let me breathe!”
Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.
Elyra: “Dad told me how you all met!”
Half the company overheard that and immediately dove into embellishment.
Garruk insisted he’d fought off a hydra bare-handed.
Borin swore he’d forged Elaris’s staff from lightning itself.
Vex and Laz competed to rewrite the tale into a tragic romance involving “forbidden dice and dangerous cheekbones.”
Sereth arched a brow at Elaris over Elyra’s head.
Sereth: “Did he now? And what else did this epic entail?”
Elyra: “He told me he met Mum.”
Sereth froze — her heart thudding so loud Elaris could feel it through the bond.
Elyra smiled up at her, gentle.
Elyra: “It’s okay. She approved. I knew she would.”
For once, the ranger was speechless. Her hand brushed Elyra’s hair, trembling slightly.
Sereth (softly): “Well… she had good taste.”
As the tavern filled with warmth and laughter, Elyra moved from table to table, pestering everyone with questions: “Kaer, why do you never smile?” “Arden, how do you drink tea that hot?”
The group pretended to busy themselves, dodging her in mock panic.
Sereth leaned against the bar beside Elaris. For a moment, neither spoke — they just watched the chaos they’d somehow built into a family.
Sereth (quietly): “This is perfect, you know.”
Elaris: “It is. She is. You are.”
Color rose in Sereth’s cheeks, but she still smirked.
Sereth: “You’re not so bad yourself, Shepherd.”
He turned to her, eyes steady, voice low.
Elaris: “When we get the chance… we need to talk about the future.”
Sereth (half-nervous laugh): “The future?”
He nodded, fingers brushing hers.
Elaris: “The wedding. Where we’ll live. The others. And… creating our own.”
She froze, breath catching.
Sereth: “Our… own?”
Their eyes locked — no words, just the thrum of the bond between them.
Then, as if drawn by the same heartbeat, they both whispered the same words.
Both: “Our own.”
She laughed — part shock, part joy — and threw her arms around him, burying her face in his chest.
The fire crackled; somewhere behind them, Elyra was laughing with the twins and Garruk was arm-wrestling a barrel.
For a fleeting heartbeat, the world was perfect — love, laughter, light.
A moment of peace carved from all the chaos that had come before.
And outside, unseen in the night sky above Thornmere, a single star flared red before dimming — a reminder that peace in this world was always borrowed, never bought.
For the first time in months, Thornmere had begun to exhale.
The laughter from the Ember Tankard returned, smoke rose from the forges again, and for fleeting hours, the Crimson Dice almost forgot what it meant to live on the edge of destiny.
But peace in this world was a candle in a draft.
By the fourth morning, questions began to drift through the streets.
A merchant asked Borin how his “trip to Westmere” went — a trip Borin had never taken.
A hunter claimed he’d seen Sereth and Elaris in the northern wood, whispering to shadows.
And then came the strangest story of all:
a farmer, pale with fear, said that as he passed the Vale border, the forest itself whispered a girl’s name — Elyra’s — over and over until he ran.
When they gathered that night in the Tankard’s private room, unease had settled over every face.
Rain pattered softly against the windows.
Candles burned low, shadows dancing across the map spread across the table. Red and black markings traced the last known territories of the Queen’s Hearts.
Elaris stood at the head, fingers resting on the map, his expression calm but sharp.
Elaris: “The questions are spreading. Someone’s moving pieces again. A man with golden eyes has been seen asking about us in half the border towns. That’ll be Azhareth.”
Garruk grunted. “Dragon-boy finally decided to stop hiding behind the Queen?”
Elaris: “He’s scouting. And if the forests are calling Elyra’s name, then Varsha’s vines are stirring again.”
Elyra, seated beside Sereth, felt a cold weight in her chest. “She’s reaching out for me.”
Arden: “Then she knows you’re the key. The Queen’s eye is shifting toward Thornmere.”
Pancake — wearing his tiny helmet from the ball, clearly for intimidation — thumped a paw on the table.
Pancake: “If anyone touches my family, I swear I’ll bite a god.”
Everyone paused, then nodded solemnly as if that were a perfectly valid battle strategy.
Kaer leaned forward, tracing the map with a gloved hand. “We can’t sit still. The longer we wait, the more her roots spread. Varsha’s still weak from the Vale’s collapse — if we move now, we might finish what we started.”
Vex: “And what about Silvenna?”
Laz: “She’s already out there wearing our faces, buying us drinks and ruining our reputations.”
Vex (snapping her fingers): “Exactly. Do we clean the mirror or pull up the roots?”
The room hummed with debate.
Elaris rubbed his temple. “If we split, we risk more than just distance — she can turn reflection against us. If even one of us is isolated…”
Sereth crossed her arms. “Then we stay together. We strike the weakest link first.”
Her voice was steady, but her eyes betrayed the memories — the vines, the grief, the way Varsha’s illusions had nearly broken her before.
Elaris met her gaze. “Varsha?”
She nodded. “We know her hideout lies beneath the Vale. The Blooming Dread is wounded but not dead. We cut her out before she can regrow.”
Garruk (grinning): “Then it’s settled. We go back to the Vale. Hit her hard, hit her fast.”
Borin: “Aye. I’ve got a new hammer still waitin’ for a test run.”
Arden (sighing): “Every time you two say that, something explodes.”
Borin: “Then it’s a good day.”
Even Elaris smiled faintly at that.
Elyra, quiet until now, placed her hand on the map — right over the Vale’s markings.
Elyra: “Then let’s go for Varsha. We know where she is.”
Her tone was calm, but her eyes blazed with conviction.
The same determination Sereth had once seen in herself — and Lyra before her.
The group exchanged glances. It wasn’t just a plan now; it was a promise.
Elaris gave a slow nod. “Then it’s decided.”
The others began preparing — fetching gear, checking weapons, Pancake stealing dried fruit when he thought no one was looking.
Sereth lingered at the table, watching Elaris. “You hesitated.”
Elaris: “I just… I can feel her through the Lattice again. Distant, angry. Varsha’s grief feeds the Queen’s will. If we break her, the rest will follow.”
Sereth: “And if she’s baiting us?”
He looked at her, eyes tired but certain. “Then we remind her what happens when she touches our family.”
Outside, thunder rolled — low and long, like the earth clearing its throat before war.
Sereth reached out, touching his hand. “For once, let’s come home together.”
Elaris smiled faintly. “Together.”
The next dawn was steel-grey.
The Dice assembled at Thornmere’s gates — armor gleaming, cloaks drawn tight, the air humming with tension and familiarity.
Elyra slung her bow across her back, looking toward the forest where the Vale’s entrance waited like a sleeping wound.
Elyra: “Round two?”
Sereth (smirking): “Let’s make it the last.”
As they set off down the winding road, the townsfolk watched in silence.
Behind them, the fog swallowed Thornmere whole.
Ahead, the first whispers of vines began to stir in the wind.
And far away, in the depths of the Vale, Varsha opened her eyes.
The orchids around her heart pulsed once, bleeding crimson.
Her voice drifted through the roots like a lullaby of sorrow.
Varsha: “Come back to me, ranger. Let us grieve together… one last time.”