The night sat quiet and heavy over Valdyr.
Erik stood alone on the balcony, the cold stone beneath his palms, the sea wind threading through his white hair. His formal garb—now slightly wrinkled from the long day—shifted softly with each breeze. Moonlight washed over him in muted silver, catching in his green eyes as they drifted from the distant coast… to the broken silhouettes of burned homes… to the quiet, tired figures of the night-shift crews clearing rubble from the fields.
Every scrape of debris.
Every crackle of dying embers.
Every reminder of failure.
His fingers curled around the railing until his knuckles turned pale. A shadow fell over his eyes as he stared.
Behind him, faint laughter and clinking cups drifted from the great hall—remnants of music and celebration—yet none of it reached him. He felt… outside it all. A spectator to the world he was supposed to help protect.
Footsteps approached. Light. Familiar.
He didn't turn.
Mira tapped the wooden frame beside the balcony door—soft, like she didn't want to startle him.
"Hey," she said gently. "You planning to brood all night? Because the musicians are packing up, and I swear Renn's about to start a second dinner."
He didn't answer. Didn't smile. Didn't even flinch.
His hair only shifted as the wind brushed past him.
Mira's attempted humor faded. She stepped closer, expression softening.
"You know, Erik… no one blames you for keeping your mouth shut about Kael's plans." Her voice hovered somewhere between reassurance and worry. "He threatened you. It's not like—"
Erik finally turned.
And Mira's words died instantly.
The wind shifted—cold and salt-bitten, heavy with the scent of wet ash. It swept through the ruined courtyard, tugging at cloaks and hair, stirring loose embers like dying fireflies. The silence between them drew itself thin, stretched to a breaking point.
Then Erik finally spoke.
"Have you ever thought about leaving Valdyr's shores?"
His voice was so quiet Mira almost thought she imagined it—rough, low, barely carried by the wind. Yet the question struck her chest like a sudden jolt.
She blinked, breath catching.
A beat.
"…No," she said softly. "Valdyr is home. No matter how battered or bruised it becomes. We're its protectors."
Erik turned his head toward her.
Mira's breath faltered.
That stare.
He had always carried a distant look—eyes like frozen fjords, as if he were forever bracing for a storm no one else could see. But tonight… there was something sharper behind it. A depth that made her stomach twist in warning.
He turned back to the coastline.
"I'm leaving the 6."
The words fell between them with the weight of an executioner's axe.
Mira's eyes widened, reflecting the pale moonlight. Tears threatened at the corners, blurring the shattered towers below. Her throat tightened so completely she almost couldn't force out the sound.
"W-why…? Why would you—"
"I've already gotten Flokki's blessing." Erik's voice held no tremor, no warmth—just finality. "There's nothing you can do to stop me."
She swallowed hard, fighting the rising heat behind her eyes. Her hands curled into trembling fists.
"So that's it?" Mira choked out, stepping forward. "You're just going to run the moment things get hard? When Valdyr needs us most? You can't just—"
"You don't get it."
His interruption was sharp enough to cut air.
Erik's jaw tightened as he stared out at the charred shoreline—the place where foreign ships had once risen like steel monsters out of the fog.
"I thought I understood what strength was. But seeing what came to our shores…"
A bitter breath escaped him—white in the night air.
"…we've been small. All of us."
Some of Mira's anger melted on impact. A tear slipped free, trailing hot down her cheek.
"Ever since the foreigners arrived," he whispered, "ever since the invasion… I realize something i should have realized a while ago."
He shook his head slowly, as if ashamed.
"If I stay here, I won't grow."
Silence swelled—painful, hollow, stretching wide around them. Mira felt her heart cracking, splintering, splintering—
Then he added, barely more than a murmur:
"You're already strong enough. You wouldn't understand."
That was the blow that took her breath away.
Erik turned from the balcony and began walking, shoulders stiff, steps controlled—too controlled. He didn't want her to see the expression he couldn't hide.
But Mira moved before she could think.
She grabbed his hand.
And without a word, she pulled him into her arms.
Erik froze, eyes darting in shock as her warmth collided against him—the heat of her, the tremble in her hold, the desperate strength anchoring him to the moment he was trying to step away from.
For several heartbeats, he didn't move.
Then, slowly… cautiously… he returned the embrace—arms tightening as though he hated himself for doing it.
Mira's breath shook against his shoulder. When she finally drew back, her hands lingered on his arms, her gaze lifting to meet his. Her voice was soft but steady—formed from pain, pride, and something unspoken.
"If you're going to leave," she whispered, "then don't come back half-formed. Don't waste what we fought for… what you're running from. Become someone worth standing beside."
Her voice faltered, cracking like thin ice.
"And when you're strong enough…"
she swallowed, then finished in a tremor,
"…come home."
The wind carried her words out across the ruined courtyard, weaving them into the ashes and seawater below. Erik stood there, Mira's warmth fading from his arms yet clinging to his skin—an echo he knew he'd carry into every step beyond Valdyr's horizon.
....
Morning broke over Valdyr in a wash of gold, the kind of soft, fleeting light that made the island's scars look gentler than they truly were. The sea glimmered like hammered silver as gulls wheeled overhead, their cries mixing with the creak of ropes and the thud of cargo against wood.
The four of them worked at the docks, loading the last of the supplies onto Jasmijn's grandfather's ship. Villagers had gathered along the pier—children perched on crates, elders leaning on staffs, Valdyr's soldiers lined in muted armor. Even Valdyr's 6 stood among them, a silent wall of pride and worry, there to see their own off.
Erik lifted the end of a barrel without a word. Chauncey grasped the other, grunting as they hoisted it up the gangplank. Their boots drummed against the wood as they set it down.
Across the deck, Zayn watched—arms folded, expression unreadable except for the faint curl of indifference in his gaze.
Jasmijn bumped her shoulder against him.
"Don't stew over it," she murmured. "Him coming with us just means we'll have a few extra hands around. Better than hauling everything ourselves."
Zayn said nothing. His attention drifted back to Erik, but he didn't unfold his arms.
Once the last of the crates, ropes, and tools were secured, a whistle cut through the coastal air. The Drenmarch sailors began untying the lines, boots thudding across the deck as they made ready to disembark. People on the pier leaned forward as the ship lurched, then steadied.
Erik stepped toward the railing, breath catching in his chest.
Valdyr lay before him—the crooked roofs, the jagged black cliffs, the sloping hills he'd trained on since he was a boy. The faces of those he grew up with blurred together: friends, mentors, rivals, all lifting their hands in farewell.
He searched the crowd for a heartbeat longer, as though afraid he'd forget their faces the moment he looked away.
Chauncey approached, a wooden box tucked under one arm. He nudged Erik lightly with his elbow.
"Not getting cold feet now, are ya?" he teased, though his voice carried a trace of sincerity beneath the grin.
Erik exhaled slowly. Then he smiled—small, but real.
The ship drifted farther from the dock, its hull cutting through the brightening waves. The villagers' voices faded into the wind. Valdyr's silhouette shrank behind them, framed by the rising sun.
And just like that, four became five.
With the sails billowing full and the sea stretching wide before them, they turned their course toward the capital city of Drenmarch—toward the unknown, toward whatever waited beyond the shores they had called home for a short while.