The light of the array flared, swallowing Seroi and the limp body on his shoulder.

In the next breath, stone and silence replaced the ruined battlefield. They had returned to Arkenhall.

The great halls were dim, torches guttering low as though even the flames mourned. What remained of the Council stood in shadowed corners, faces drawn, robes tattered, each one carrying the look of someone who had lived too long in the span of a single day.

The air was thick with grief. The cries of families meeting the return of their dead echoed faintly down the corridors. Mothers clutching broken sons. Fathers holding daughters who would never wake again. Lovers kneeling in silence before bodies that once held laughter. No voice rose in triumph. The halls of Arkenhall were filled with loss.

Seroi did not linger among them. His steps were slow but sure, carrying Ren's body past the mourning, past the flickering torches, through the long corridors until he reached his own chamber. He pushed the door open with a shoulder, the hinges groaning.

Inside, the room was quiet. A single lantern burned low, painting the walls in warm gold. The faint scent of herbs lingered in the air, remnants of Seroi's own treatments. He crossed to the bed and lowered Ren onto it, careful, as though even in death the boy might feel pain.

For a long time Seroi simply stood there, looking down at him. The fog was gone, the power silent, leaving only the man beneath. Blood and dirt masked his face, but even so, there was a stubbornness in the line of his jaw, a refusal that lingered.

"You carried too much," Seroi murmured, voice rough. "More than anyone should."

He sank into the chair beside the bed, exhaustion finally pulling at him. For the first time since the battle ended, he allowed himself to breathe.

Then Ren's chest rose.

It was small, shallow, almost imperceptible, but it was there.

Seroi's head snapped up, eyes widening. He leaned forward, disbelief flickering across his worn face. Ren's fingers twitched against the sheet, faint, like the memory of movement. His lips parted, breath scraping through dry throat.

And then, slowly, painfully, Ren's eyes opened.

The black-blue haze lingered faintly in them, dim but alive, like embers refusing to die out. His gaze darted, unfocused at first, then steadying on the ceiling above him. A groan slipped past his lips, hoarse, raw, but real.

Seroi closed his eyes, relief flooding him like a wound finally loosed of pressure. He exhaled a long, shuddering breath and leaned back in the chair.

"Welcome back," he whispered. "Stubborn fool."

Ren's lips barely moved, but sound scraped out, quiet as ash falling.

"Not… yet… finished."

The words carried no strength, but they were enough. Enough to say he was still Ren. Enough to remind Seroi, and perhaps the world, that though the King had fallen, the war was not over.

Ren's breath rasped, shallow but steady. His eyes half-lidded, fighting to stay open. Seroi stayed close, hand hovering near his arm but not touching, afraid to press him too soon.

The door creaked. Soft steps crossed the threshold. Elara stood there, golden hair dim under the lantern light, her face hollow with exhaustion. For a heartbeat she froze, eyes locking on the figure on the bed.

Her lips parted. She almost spoke, but no words came. The tears did instead, quick and unbidden, sliding down her bloodstained cheeks. She stumbled forward, sinking to her knees beside the bed, fingers trembling as they hovered near Ren's hand. She did not dare touch him, as though afraid he might vanish if she tried.

"You…" her voice cracked, barely audible. "You came back."

Ren's eyes shifted, slow, heavy, finding hers. A flicker of something was tired recognition, a stubborn ember passed through them. His lips curved, not quite a smile, but the faintest ghost of one.

Behind her, another shadow entered. Vael. His gait was unsteady, a limp dragging at one leg, shadows clinging stubbornly to him like torn cloth. He leaned against the wall near the door, eyes sharp yet tired, and watched in silence.

For a long moment he said nothing. Then, finally, his voice cut through, rough and low.

"Tch. Took you long enough, Ren."

Elara shot him a glare through her tears, but Vael did not look away from the man on the bed. His jaw clenched, his shoulders tight, as though if he relaxed, everything holding him together might break apart.

Ren let out a sound halfway between a cough and a laugh, broken but alive. His fingers twitched, brushing against Elara's hand at last. She gripped them instantly, firmly, as if anchoring him here.

Seroi looked between them, eyes shadowed, but for the first time since stepping into this room, the weight on his face eased. He leaned back in his chair, letting the younger ones carry what words were left.

The world outside still mourned. Arkenhall's halls still echoed with loss. The war was not done, and the scars would never fade. But here, in this small room lit by a single flame, life had returned where death was certain.

Elara's hand tightened around Ren's. She swallowed hard, her voice still trembling.

"I thought we lost you… when the King struck… I thought that was the end."

Ren's gaze stayed on her, quiet, unreadable. His lips parted slowly.

"It almost was."

Vael's shadowed eyes flickered, arms crossed though his grip was tense.

"You should have seen yourself, Elara. Half the field was ash, and he was still standing there like he owned the world."

Elara's tears broke into a fragile laugh, shaky but real. She brushed at her cheeks, shaking her head.

"He always does."

Ren coughed, the sound weak but steady, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.

"I did not… own it. I only refused to let him."

Vael let out a sharp breath, almost a scoff, though it carried more relief than mockery.

"Stupid way to live, Ren. But it worked. Somehow."

Elara leaned closer, her voice soft.

"It was not just you. We all held on. Because you did."

For a moment, the room held that fragile truth, heavy yet alive. Ren closed his eyes, the faintest hint of peace settling over his scarred face, while the others sat in silence beside him together, for the first time since the war's end.

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