Michrinor: The Fates of The Heirs

Chapter 34 - Quiet Whispers

The dawn after the battle was one of the most beautiful Ava had ever seen. The first rays of sunlight filtered through the trees and touched the stone walls of the fortress, casting a warm glow over the scene of recent chaos. It was a sight that would have filled her with peace if not for the tension that still lingered in the air. The Isle of Loxca, though reclaimed, felt fragile, like a delicate thread pulled taut, ready to snap at any moment.

The inhabitants of the isle, both rebels and Naitseers, moved about with a quiet determination. They were exhausted but driven by the knowledge that their work was far from over. The courtyard, where the fiercest fighting had taken place, was now a hive of activity. Broken weapons were gathered, wounded soldiers tended to, and the bodies of the fallen laid to rest with the respect they deserved. Ava watched them all, feeling a mix of emotions she couldn't quite untangle.

The victory over the Queen's forces should have brought a sense of triumph, but instead, Ava felt only a muted relief. The battle had been won, but she knew in her heart that this was only a temporary respite. The Queen would not give up so easily, and the thought of what might come next gnawed at her. Still, for now, the fortress stood strong, and that was something.

As Ava walked through the courtyard, she caught sight of Harvan, his broad shoulders hunched as he surveyed the damage. Even with his back turned, his presence was reassuring. He had always been a steadying force for her, like a mountain that couldn't be moved. When he noticed her approach, he straightened and offered her a small, weary smile.

"Morning, Little Bean," Harvan rumbled, his voice as deep as the earth. "You should be resting."

Ava shook her head, trying to shake off the unease that clung to her like a second skin. "I can't rest, not when there's so much to do. Besides, I need to keep busy."

Harvan studied her for a moment, his dark eyes searching hers. "You did well yesterday, Ava. You've grown stronger."

"I'm not sure I feel stronger," Ava admitted, kicking at a loose stone with the toe of her boot. "I'm just... trying to keep up."

"You're doing more than that," Harvan said firmly. "You've held your own in the face of things that would make most grown men run. Don't forget that."

Ava nodded, but she still couldn't shake the doubt that gnawed at her. She had fought alongside the Naitseers, but she still felt out of place among them. They were seasoned warriors, hardened by years of battle. She was just a girl, barely sixteen, trying to find her footing in a world that seemed far too big and dangerous.

As she continued to walk through the fortress, she saw Taci and Yaroth working together to repair a section of the outer wall that had been damaged during the battle. They moved with practiced efficiency, their hands skilled and sure as they placed stone upon stone. Even in the quiet moments, they were always preparing for the next fight, always ready for whatever came next.

Ava wanted to be like them—to feel confident in her abilities, to know that she was making a difference. But every time she closed her eyes, she saw the faces of the fallen, heard the screams of the dying. She wondered if she would ever be able to shake the weight of those memories.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sight of Donamer standing alone at the edge of the courtyard, his back to the others. He was staring out at the horizon, his expression distant. In his hand, he held the key that had unlocked the Gauntlet of Thalrun, turning the tide of the battle. It was a small, unassuming object, but its significance was not lost on Ava.

She approached him quietly, not wanting to disturb his thoughts. When he noticed her, he gave her a faint smile, though it didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Morning, Ava," Donamer said softly. "I didn't hear you coming."