The Awakening

Epilogue

Fallon was gone.

The reality of her death struck Avelon like a physical blow. She had saved her—only for her to die anyway. Her life had been sacrificed for their escape.

They had gotten out, yes. They had made it to the docks, boarded a ship, and left the palace behind. But it was not enough. Fallon had given her life so they could live, and Avelon could not shake the anger that burned inside her. Anger at herself for not doing more. Anger at Brianne for rendering her useless in Fallon's final moments. Anger at Balor, who had destroyed everything.

She sighed deeply, her eyes fixed on the dark water outside her cabin's small window. The ship rocked gently beneath her, but the rhythmic motion did nothing to calm her thoughts. The escape had been a blur, but now she was alone in her cabin, trapped by her own mind. The others had continued on with their tasks and had left her to come to terms with what had happened. Avelon had sought solitude. No words, no comforts. She was not ready for them.

She needed the silence, the space to drown out the noise in her head and the faces of the ones she could not save...

***

Anger boiled within him, so fierce that it threatened to consume him whole. His chest tightened painfully, a constant reminder of the wound the Daghlan girl had inflicted. The sting only fuelled his rage.

"Where are they!" He roared, the sound rising from the depths of his fury as he shot upright from the bed. His breath came in heavy, ragged gasps, the searing pain in his chest intensifying with each movement. But it did not matter. Nothing mattered except finding those who had dared to defy him.

The guard, standing at the edge of the room, flinched visibly but held his ground. The air between them crackled with tension, but still, he spoke, his voice trembling.

"They escaped the continent, sir. Your scouts have returned. They... they bring news, but..." The guard hesitated, as if the words themselves might be a death sentence. "...the air holds no whispers of them."

The words struck Balor. Involuntarily his lips curled back in a snarl. He paced the expanse of the room, his hands trembling.

How could they slip through my grasp?

Balor spun on the guard, his eyes glowing with an unsettling intensity. "And the traitor?" he demanded, his voice low but filled with a dangerous edge.

Elha.

The woman who had once been an ally. The one who had dared to betray him.

The guard's face went pale, his eyes darting nervously to any part of the room except Balor's eyes.

"Elha... she managed to flee as well, sir," he whispered, the words coming out in a rush, as though he feared the very mention of her name would incur Balor's wrath.

"The air holds no whispers of her either."

At that, Balor's fists clenched so tightly that his nails dug into his palms, drawing blood.

The guard's fear pulsed from his trembling body. His presence shrinking as he edged away from Balor, expecting the outburst that was sure to follow.

Balor's gaze locked onto the guard, his voice now a cold, venomous hiss. "Find them. I don't care what it takes. I want their blood on the ground before the sun rises tomorrow."

The guard nodded, his movements stiff and hesitant. With a bow of his head, he turned and fled from the room, leaving Balor alone with his thoughts and darkness.

Balor stood motionless. He could almost feel their escape—feel her essence slipping further and further away with every passing second.

They were mocking him.

And he would make them pay.

The end, for now...