30. Laia

30

LAIA

W e leave at dawn, the forest still smoldering from the battle. Thalos carries Irix on his back, his face pale and breathing shallow. Each step we take seems to echo with the memory of last night’s chaos. The air is thick with the scent of smoke and blood, and every crackling ember feels like a stab of guilt.

I walk beside them, my heart heavy. This is my fault. The thought churns in my mind relentlessly. If I hadn't been here, if I hadn’t needed their protection, they would still have their home.

Irix will still be fighting savagely against his enemies. He took the arrow meant for me.

Kael walks up beside me, his expression softening as he sees the worry etched across my face. “He’ll be alright,” he says, offering a reassuring smile. “The poison isn’t fatal to us. He just needs time.”

His words should comfort me, but they don’t. The guilt remains a leaden weight in my chest. I glance at Irix’s limp form and swallow hard. He’s suffering because of me.

Every step through the forest feels like a penance. The lair—the place that had become a refuge, a symbol of safety—is now nothing but ash and bloodstains. I think of the nights spent by the fire, the moments of laughter and connection. All of it is gone because I brought danger to their doorstep.

Thalos marches ahead with determined strides, his silence more daunting than any words he could say. He hasn't blamed me outright, but I can feel his judgment in every measured step.

Kael places a hand on my shoulder as we walk, his touch gentle but firm. “You did what we told you. You fought,” he murmurs, trying to ease my burden.

I nod but don’t trust myself to speak. How can I tell him that I don’t feel like a survivor? How can I admit that right now, all I feel is the crushing weight of being the reason they lost everything?

We move forward through the smoldering remnants of the forest, each step taking us farther from what was once our home but closer to an uncertain future.

As we set up camp hours later, I focus on tending to Irix. His skin burns under my touch, each shallow breath a painful reminder of the poison coursing through him. I gently wipe the sweat from his brow, Kael’s words echoing in my mind. He’ll be alright. He has to be.

Kael kneels beside me, his hands moving with practiced ease as he applies a poultice to Irix’s wound. The scent of herbs fills the air, a sharp contrast to the lingering smell of smoke and blood.

“He’s strong,” Kael murmurs, his eyes flicking up to meet mine. “He’ll pull through.”

I nod, though the worry gnaws at me. I can’t shake the feeling that this is all my fault. If it weren’t for me, they wouldn’t be in this situation.

Thalos approaches, his expression unreadable as he watches us work. I look up at him, my voice barely a whisper. “I’m sorry. This... this is because of me.”

Thalos kneels beside me, his hand resting on my shoulder with surprising gentleness. “The orcs have hated us for years,” he declares, his voice calm and steady. “You were just an excuse. This was inevitable. They wanted what we have: territory and power.”

His words take me by surprise. I expected anger, maybe even resentment, but instead, there’s understanding in his gaze.

“I still feel responsible,” I admit, my eyes dropping to the ground. My nails dig on my palm as I clench my fists.

Thalos’s grip tightens slightly on my shoulder. “We chose to protect you,” he says firmly. “And we’d make that choice again. Laia, I didn't know I would feel this strongly toward anyone, especially a human. We had a deal, and we will honor that.”

I blink up at him, trying to process the comfort in his voice. It’s a stark contrast to the harsh warrior I’ve come to know.

Kael finishes applying the poultice and stands up, giving Thalos a nod. “We need to let him rest.”

Thalos helps me to my feet, his hand lingering on my arm for a moment longer than necessary. “You should rest too.” He rubs my arm, his touch oddly comforting; it makes me want to cry.

I blink my eyes to stop my tears from falling.

I glance back at Irix’s still form and then at Kael’s reassuring smile. For now, all we can do is wait and hope that morning brings some semblance of peace.

I turn to Thalos, and our eyes meet, locking in a silent exchange that speaks volumes. For a brief, suspended moment, the world around us fades away. The smoldering forest, the scent of blood and herbs—all of it vanishes. There is only Thalos and me.

His gaze softens, the hardness I’ve come to associate with him melting away. Slowly, almost tentatively, he leans in. Our lips brush in a soft, tender kiss—an unspoken promise of forgiveness and something more. My heart flutters as the guilt and fear momentarily lifted by the gentle connection.

But then Kael’s voice breaks through the moment like a crack of thunder. “He’s awake.”

We both turn instantly, our connection severed by the urgency in Kael’s voice. Relief surges through me as I see Irix stirring, his eyes fluttering open. I rush to his side, my heart soaring at the sight of him conscious.

Irix grins weakly up at me, his voice hoarse but filled with that familiar spark of mischief. “Told you I’d protect you.”

A laugh escapes me—half sob, half joy—as I kneel beside him. “You did,” I whisper, my fingers brushing his forehead gently. “You really did.”

________