The elven woman was nowhere to be seen the next day, and when we asked around, no one seemed to know who she was. It was as if she had never existed, or perhaps as if she had never belonged here at all. Her warnings, her strange and cryptic words, seemed to fade into the air like smoke. I couldn't shake the feeling that whatever knowledge she had shared with me was meant to set something in motion, but without her to guide me, I had no idea where to begin.

Frustrated and with no more answers, we made the decision to travel back home. It felt like a long, silent ride as we left the elven village behind, my mind still reeling from the revelations and my body heavy with the weight of everything I had learned.

As we rode through the lands of Geera, the scenery seemed to reflect the chaos that had unfolded in my mind. Burnt villages greeted us at every turn—smoldering ruins where families once lived, their homes reduced to ash and rubble. The air was thick with the acrid scent of fire and death. We noticed soldiers in the distance, their armor glinting in the harsh sunlight as they plundered the remains of the villages, taking what they could from the desperate survivors who were too weak to fight back. My stomach twisted at the sight of the helpless, their faces gaunt with hunger and grief.

We stopped for a brief moment, dismounting to bury the dead who had been left behind. The ground was stained with blood, and the few bodies we could gather from the charred wreckage were buried hastily, as if to rid the land of its shame. As we worked, the silence between us was suffocating, none of us sure of what to say in the face of such devastation.

It wasn't until we were finishing up that those who had managed to escape the massacre stepped forward. They were gaunt, their clothes ragged, their eyes hollow from days of fear and hunger. They looked at us warily, unsure whether we were friend or foe.

"We've watched you bury our dead," one of them said, her voice tremulous, but filled with defiance. "Who are you? What do you want from us?"

I hesitated for only a moment before stepping forward, the weight of their gaze pressing down on me. I knew what I had to say. I had to give them something, anything to help them understand. "We're not your enemy," I said, my voice steady despite the pounding in my chest. "We come from Faria, and we can offer you shelter. If you're willing to trust us, we can help."

Mathew, who had been standing nearby, nodded in agreement, his face somber but resolute. "You'll be safe in Faria," he added. "There's room for all of you. We've all lost too much. We'll help you rebuild."

The group exchanged hesitant looks, their fear palpable. But in the end, the promise of safety, of something better than this ruined land, was too much to ignore. One by one, they stepped forward, their shoulders hunched with weariness but with a glimmer of hope that hadn't been there before.

As they gathered their things, preparing to follow us, I couldn't help but notice the tension in Frej's posture. He stood off to the side, his arms crossed and his jaw tight. I could sense the annoyance radiating off him like heat from the sun.

"This is a mistake," Frej muttered under his breath, his voice laced with frustration. "These weak men and women will only slow us down. They're just a burden."

Mathew, who had been keeping quiet as always, turned to face Frej, his expression calm but firm. "These are our people too now," Mathew said, his voice steady but carrying an edge that made Frej pause. "Adrian is family, and so are they."

I flinched at the mention of family, the word suddenly heavier than it had ever been before. But I didn't say anything. I just looked at the new group we had gathered, at the people who were now joining our cause, and I realized Mathew was right. They were part of this journey now. They were part of our fight.

I turned to Frej, meeting his eyes. "They're not a burden," I said quietly, more to myself than to anyone else. "They're just people trying to survive, like the rest of us."

Frej scowled but didn't argue. He knew better than to keep pushing the point. Still, the tension between him and the newcomers was thick in the air as we prepared to leave, and I knew it would take time for everyone to adjust to the growing group we had become. But in that moment, it felt like the only way forward.

We mounted our horses and began the journey back to Faria, the sound of hooves pounding against the dirt road filling the silence. There was a long way to go before we could make things right, but at least, for now, we were together. And maybe that was enough to keep the darkness at bay—for a little while longer.

As day turns to evening and we lend our horses to those too weak to walk, I found myself walking alongside Mathew, my hand firmly gripping his. His fingers were warm against mine, a steady presence in the chaos, but there was something in his silence that made my chest tighten.

We moved at a slower pace now, our footsteps sinking into the dirt road as the others mounted the horses or gathered their belongings. The weight of the moment felt heavier than it had been just hours ago. The new faces, the survivors we had taken in, their weariness was palpable, and I couldn't help but wonder how many more would join us before the journey was over. How many more would be needed to survive the war that seemed to be tearing everything apart?

Mathew's hand tightened around mine, but he didn't speak. I could feel the tension in him, the hesitation in his every step, and it made my stomach churn. He had something on his mind, something that had been weighing on him ever since we had stopped to help the survivors. I could tell by the way he kept glancing at me, the slight furrow in his brow, as if he was trying to find the right words, or perhaps trying to figure out if he should speak at all.

I opened my mouth to ask, but then hesitated. He wasn't the kind of person to leave things unsaid for long, but this silence felt different—fragile, like something was about to break. Instead of pressing him for an answer, I squeezed his hand gently, a small, quiet reminder that I was here. That we were in this together.

"Mathew," I finally said, my voice soft, "You're worried about something. I can feel it."

He exhaled, the sound slow and heavy, as if he had been holding his breath for too long. His eyes flickered ahead for a moment, as if looking for the right words, before meeting my gaze. The vulnerability in his eyes was something I rarely saw, and it made my heart ache.

"I'm worried about you," he admitted quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. "About everything that's coming and this magic you spoke of."

The honesty in his words hit me harder than I expected. He had always been the strong one, the one who kept us moving forward, even when everything seemed impossible. But now, I could hear the doubt creeping into his voice, the weight of our situation pressing down on him. It was as if the burden of responsibility was too much to carry alone.

"I'm worried too," I said, my grip tightening on his hand. "She said she'd teach me. But now I feel like it was all a dream. My imagination."

Mathew gave a small, almost imperceptible shake of his head. "I'm not worried about what's next. I'm worried about what we're leaving behind. I don't want you to lose yourself in this fight, Adrian. Not after everything we've already lost."

His words hit me like a punch to the gut. I had already given so much of myself, so much of who I was, in this war, and yet I felt like there was still more to give. I didn't know if I was strong enough to keep going, but I also knew that stopping wasn't an option. Not now.

"I won't lose myself," I said firmly, trying to reassure both of us. "I have you. And I have this—us—together. As long as we have that, I'll never lose who I am. We'll make it through this. I promise."

He didn't answer right away, but his hand squeezed mine in return, and for a moment, the weight of his worry seemed to lighten, just a little. I knew the road ahead would be long, filled with battles both outside and within, but for the first time in a while, I felt like we might just make it through, together.

Mathew nodded, his eyes still clouded with concern, but his voice a little steadier. "Just... don't forget who you used to be, before all this."

"I won't," I said, my voice unwavering. "I'm still me."