The silence that followed the carnage felt almost artificial, as if the forest had held its breath. The stream still ran, calm, indifferent to the death that stained it. The smell of blood mingled with the smoke, permeating the air with a weight difficult to bear.
Kael remained standing, leaning on the sword stuck in the ground. The cut on his shoulder throbbed, and fatigue threatened to overwhelm him, but he stood firm—he wouldn't let the girls see weakness in his eyes.
Irelia still wouldn't let go of his hand. Her fingers were firm, almost hard, as if to ensure he wouldn't disappear again. When she finally let go, it was only to gently shove him in the chest.
"You had us worried, idiot," she said, her voice thick with anger and relief. "And you almost died in the process."
Kael smirked despite the pain.
