19. Sixteen

The cold night air stung my cheeks as I rode at the head of the vanguard, the thunder of hoofbeats echoing through the dark forest. My mind raced as fast as my steed, thoughts of Ruith and our stolen moments together warring with the grim reality of the task before us.

We had to reach Calibarra before Klaus' forces could cut us off. The fate of the rebellion, of everything Ruith had worked for, hung in the balance. And yet, even as I urged my mount onward, I couldn't shake the memory of Ruith's lips on mine, the heat of his touch searing my skin like a brand.

Damn him for being so reckless, for risking everything we had fought for. And damn me for wanting him still, despite the danger and the impossibility of it all. I had warned him time and again that our affair would bring nothing but ruin, but he had persisted, drawing me in with his clever words and heated glances until I was as much a fool for him as he was for me.

And now here we were, racing against time and treachery, the weight of kingdoms and crowns bearing down upon us. The trees flew past in a blur of shadows, the only sound the pounding of hooves and the ragged breath of men and beasts pushed to their limits.

We rode hard through the night, the chill air biting at any exposed skin. I pulled my cloak tighter around me, scanning the dark forest for any signs of movement. We could not afford to be caught unawares, not with so much at stake.

I thought of Leif and Torsten's faces as I hugged them goodbye before setting out. More was riding on our success now than before. There were others depending on our victory, people I couldn't let down, and now those boys were among them.

Beside me, Kaelith, one of Ruith's most trusted scouts, rode with a grim determination etched onto his weathered face. He had seen more battles than most men twice his age, and the scars that crisscrossed his hands spoke of a life spent in service to the crown.

"Have you ever been to Calibarra?" I asked, more to distract myself from my churning thoughts than out of any real curiosity.

Kaelith glanced at me, his keen eyes glinting in the moonlight. "Once, many years ago. It was a ruin then, and a ruin when my grandfather's grandfather was yet young. Calibarra is an old place, a cursed place, some say, where spirits linger. But it wasn't always so. There was a time when Calibarra was a sight to behold, a shining fortress of white stone and gleaming spires. The floors were paved with marble, and the fountains ran with sweet, clear water. It was said that the Great Library held more knowledge than any other place in the known world, and scholars came from far and wide to study there."

I tried to imagine it, this city of light and learning, so different from the dark, foreboding forest that surrounded us now. "And what happened to it? How did it become a ruin?"

Kaelith's face darkened, his eyes distant as if seeing into the past. "It was so long ago, no one knows for certain. Some say it was a curse, laid upon the city by a spurned lover or a vengeful sorcerer. Others claim it was the result of some great magical experiment gone awry, a tear in the fabric of reality itself. Whatever the cause, it happened at the same time as the land fell into twilight. They say that in a single night, Calibarra was transformed, its gleaming spires reduced to crumbling ruins, its streets and courtyards choked with thorny vines and twisted foliage. The sun never rose again over the city, and the sky remained forever locked in a strange, eerie half-light, neither day nor night."

I shivered, and not just from the cold night air. The thought of entering such a cursed place filled me with a sense of foreboding. Yet what choice did we have? Calibarra represented our last, best hope of uniting the elven and human factions against Ruith's father. If we could not hold the old fort and secure the alliance of the Craiggybottoms, then all was lost.

"And what of the Craiggybottoms?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady. "What manner of elf are they?"

Kaelith considered my question for a moment, his brow furrowed in thought. "The Craiggybottoms are a clan apart, with a history as colorful and checkered as their tartan plaids. They began as pirates centuries ago, when King Baelin still ruled these lands with an iron fist. The Craiggybottoms were among the few who dared to defy him, raiding his ships and disrupting his trade routes. It was a bold and reckless gambit, but it paid off in the end. Baelin was overthrown, and the Craiggybottoms were rewarded for their loyalty with lands and titles of their own."

I nodded. "And now? What has become of them since?"

"Now, they are merchants and traders, with a network of contacts that spans the known world. Their ships ply the waters from Savarra to the distant shores of Qet, carrying exotic spices, rare silks, and all manner of precious cargo. They have grown wealthy and influential, but they have never forgotten their roots. The Craiggybottoms despise slavery in all its forms, and they have been using their resources to campaign against it since the first. Unfortunately, the other clans look down upon them and they are not so well liked."

I frowned, considering this information. The Craiggybottoms sounded like potential allies in our fight against the elven slave trade, but their reputation and strained relations with the other clans could prove problematic. We needed to tread carefully if we hoped to win their support.

"And what of their leader?" I asked, curiosity getting the better of me. "What do you know of him?"

Kaelith's mouth twisted into a wry smile. "Her, actually. Captain Yisra is a force to be reckoned with, or so I've heard. She's said to be as cunning as a fox and as fierce as a bear when roused. But she's also known for her love of drink and her penchant for wild boasts and tall tales. Some say she once wrestled a kraken with her bare hands and lived to tell the tale."

I raised an eyebrow, skeptical. "And do you believe such stories?"

Kaelith shrugged. "With Yisra, it's hard to say. The captain has a way of blurring the lines between truth and fiction. But one thing is certain. She's not to be underestimated. If we hope to win her clan to our cause, we'll need to be prepared for anything."

I nodded, absorbing this information as we rode on through the night. The Craiggybottoms were a wild card, unpredictable and potentially dangerous. But then again, so was Ruith. So was I, if I was being honest with myself. We were all of us playing a dangerous game, and the stakes had never been higher.

As the second day dawned, or rather, as the strange half-light that passed for day in this accursed land crept across the sky, we found ourselves riding into a world unlike any I had ever seen. The Twilight Lands were a place out of legend, a realm where the sun never truly rose or set, where the boundaries between night and day blurred into an endless, eerie dusk.

The forest had given way to a vast expanse of gently rolling hills, the grass a peculiar shade of silvery-blue that shimmered and rippled in the wan light. Stray motes of dust and pollen drifted through the air, catching the rays of the unseen sun and glittering like tiny diamonds. In the distance, I could make out the jagged silhouettes of mountains, their peaks shrouded in mist and shadow.

As we rode on, I couldn't shake the feeling that we were being watched. Ruith had spoken of ancient monsters once, and if they still lurked anywhere in the world, it would be here. Yet even as I remained on guard, I couldn't help but marvel at the eerie beauty of this place. The air was thick with the heady scent of night-blooming flowers, their petals deep purples and midnight blues. Glowing fungi clung to the trunks of twisted oak trees and strange calls came from their branches.

As we rode deeper into the Twilight Lands, the strangeness only intensified. Towering mushrooms the size of trees sprouted from the earth, their bioluminescent caps casting an ethereal blue glow. Delicate crystal formations hung from the branches overhead, tinkling softly in the breeze like wind chimes. The very ground seemed to pulse with an ancient, unknowable energy that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.

We made camp that night on a hill overlooking a vast, shimmering lake. The water was an unnatural shade of silver, almost metallic in its luster, and it reflected the strange half-light of the sky like a mirror. I stood at the crest of the hill, staring out over the expanse of the Twilight Lands.

In the distance, I could see the flickering light of our army's campfires, tiny pinpricks of warmth in the endless dusk. Ruith would be there, poring over maps and strategizing with his advisors, ever the consummate tactician. A part of me longed to be by his side, to feel the reassuring strength of his presence and hear the confidence in his voice as he laid out his plans.

But another part of me was still angry at him for choosing me over the army he so badly needed. How strange it was. Only days ago, I had been angry at him for doing the opposite, rejecting me to marry Taelyn. Even if I couldn't admit it at the time, the move had stung.

I closed my eyes, letting the memories wash over me. Ruith's confession, spoken in the heat of the moment just before we parted ways, echoed in my mind like a haunting refrain.

"Taelyn will be queen, but you have my heart. You always have."

He'd thrown away his alliance with the Wolfhearts for love. For me . He'd laid it out plain for me with no regrets.

And yet I still wasn't sure how I felt about him.

A gentle breeze stirred the air around me, carrying with it the heady scent of night-blooming jasmine. I inhaled deeply, trying to clear my mind.

I had spent so long convincing myself that I hated him. Ruith's heart belonged to his cause, to the rebellion he had built from the ground up with nothing but sheer determination and force of will. He had manipulated me, beaten me, used me as a pawn. I should hate him.

Yet even as I tried to summon that old, familiar anger, I found it slipping through my fingers like sand. In its place, a new emotion took root, one that I had been trying to deny for longer than I cared to admit.

Love.

The word hung in the air, as tangible as the mist that curled around my ankles. I loved Ruith. Despite everything he had done, despite the manipulation and the lies and the cruelty, I loved him still. It was a love born of shared hardship and mutual understanding, a love that had taken root in the cracks of my battered heart and flourished in defiance of all reason.

I thought back to those stolen moments we had shared, brief flashes of tenderness amidst the chaos and the violence. The way Ruith's eyes softened when he looked at me, the gentleness of his touch as he traced the scars on my skin. The low rumble of his laughter, rich and warm like honey. The fierce protectiveness in his voice when he spoke of the future he envisioned, a future where our people could live in peace and freedom.

Ruith was an elf of contradictions, at once ruthless and compassionate, calculating and impulsive. He had done terrible things in the name of his cause, things that I knew I should condemn him for. And yet, I couldn't bring myself to do it. Because beneath the hard exterior and the cold pragmatism, I had seen something else.

A flicker of vulnerability, a glimpse of the elf behind the mask. The elf who had risked everything to save me from his father's cruelty, who had stood by my side even when it meant defying his own people. The man who had looked at me with such raw, unbridled emotion that it took my breath away.

And for better or worse, I was his, and he was mine.

I tore my gaze away from the distant campfires and looked out over the lake once more. The surface was as still as glass, broken only by the occasional ripple as some unseen creature breached the surface. Along the shoreline, bioluminescent plants twitched in the slight breeze.

I turned away, my heart heavy with the weight of my realization. The camp stirred behind me as soldiers began to prepare the evening meal, their low voices mingling with the clatter of pots and the hiss of campfires. I made my way back to my tent, nodding to the sentries posted at the perimeter.

Inside, I stripped off my riding leathers and sank onto my bedroll with a weary sigh. My muscles ached from long hours in the saddle, and my mind still racing with thoughts of Ruith, of the rebellion, of the uncertain path that lay ahead. Sleep claimed me quickly, dragging me down into a world of dreams and shadows.

In my dream, I found myself standing in a vast, empty hall, its walls of white marble stretching up into the darkness overhead. Motes of dust danced in the slanting beams of sunlight that filtered through high, arched windows, and the air was thick with the scent of incense and old parchment.

"Elindir."

The voice was achingly familiar, a deep, rich baritone that sent a shiver down my spine. I turned slowly, hardly daring to breathe, and found myself face to face with my brother.

Andrej looked just as I remembered him, tall and broad-shouldered, with a regal bearing, despite his youth. His dark hair fell in waves to his shoulders, framing a face that was at once stern and kind. His eyes were still the same piercing blue I remembered.

"Andrej," I whispered, my voice cracking with emotion. "Is it really you?"

He smiled then, a soft, sad smile that made my heart ache. "It is."

"How can this be? You're..."

A wry smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Perhaps the veil is thinner here. Perhaps one ought not question the will of the gods. But then you always were one to do that, weren't you, little brother?"

I reached out to him, my hand trembling, half-expecting my fingers to pass through empty air. But when they touched the solid warmth of his chest, I let out a choked sob of relief. Dream or not, in that moment, my brother was real, and I clung to him like a drowning man to a life raft.

Andrej's strong arms closed around me as I wept into his shoulder. He smelled of leather and pine, of home and safety and all the things I had lost. When at last my tears subsided, he drew back, his hands resting on my shoulders as he looked at me with a mixture of pride and sorrow.

"You have grown so much since I last saw you, Elindir," he said softly.

"I have seen much," I admitted.

"Indeed, you have," he said. "I have watched your journey from afar, little brother. I have seen the trials you have faced, the burdens you have borne. And I have marveled at your strength, your resilience in the face of such adversity."

I shook my head, a bitter laugh escaping my lips. "Strength? I have been little more than a pawn, manipulated and used by those more powerful than I. First by our traitorous half-brother Michail, then by Ruith."

Andrej's grip on my shoulders tightened, his expression fierce. "There is strength in survival, Elindir. In enduring, in rising each day to face the challenges anew. You have not broken, despite all that has been done to you. Your spirit remains unbowed, your heart true. Even now, you are a true prince of Ostovan, even more than I ever was."

I swallowed hard, emotion welling up in my throat. "I feel so lost, Andrej," I confessed. "Torn between my duty to our people and my own desires. Between the man I was raised to be and the man I have become. I don't know what to do. I don't know who to trust."

Andrej's expression softened, understanding in his eyes. "The path ahead of you is not an easy one. I cannot tell you what choices to make. That is for you to decide."

"But what if I make the wrong ones?" I whispered, giving voice to the fear that had haunted me for so long. "What if I fail, as I have failed so many times before?"

Andrej's hand cupped my cheek, his callused palm warm against my skin. "You will fail," he said, and my heart sank. "We all fail, Elindir. It's part of life. What matters isn't winning or being right all the time. It's how you carry yourself in the shadow of that failure. Do you allow it to shape you and define you as Michail has? Or do you persevere, use what you have learned to rise up stronger than ever before?"

Andrej had always been wise beyond his years, but in that moment, I felt a flicker of hope kindle in my chest, a tiny spark against the dark.

"But how will I know which path to take?" I asked, my voice barely more than a whisper. "How will I know if I am making the right choices?"

Andrej smiled then, a gentle, knowing smile that made the lines around his eyes crinkle. "You will know, Elindir. In your heart, you will know. Trust in yourself, in the strength and resilience that have brought you this far. And trust in those who stand beside you, those who have proven their loyalty and their love."

An image of Ruith flashed through my mind then, his angular features softened by the glow of the campfire, his eyes burning with a fierce intensity as he spoke of the future he envisioned for our people. Despite everything that had passed between us, despite the hurt and the betrayal and the complicated tangle of emotions that bound us together, I knew that he was one of those people. Ruith would stand beside me, come what may.

I closed my eyes. "I wish you were here with me, Andrej. I don't know if I can do this alone."

Andrej's hand tightened on my shoulder. "You are never alone, brother."

I awoke with a start, my heart pounding in my chest and my skin slick with sweat. For a moment, I lay there in the darkness, disoriented and confused, the dream still clinging to the edges of my consciousness like wisps of morning mist. Slowly, the familiar contours of my tent came into focus, the rough woolen blankets tangled around my legs, the soft sounds of the camp stirring outside.

I sat up, running a hand through my tangled hair as I tried to gather my scattered thoughts. The dream had felt so real, Andrej's presence so vivid and tangible that I half-expected to see him standing there beside me. But of course, he was not and had never been there. It was only a dream, no matter how real it had felt.