Dust hung heavy in the cavernous ruin, thick as wool, clinging to every gasp of breath. It turned the air into choking fog, where sound was smothered and sight reduced to blurred outlines. For a long heartbeat, there was nothing but the hiss of settling rubble and the faint, ringing silence that follows catastrophe.
Elian stirred first. His body screamed protest as he dragged himself upright, coughing violently, spitting grit from his mouth. His head spun, vision clouded with stars that weren't his own. A fine trickle of blood cut across his cheek, sharp against the pale mask of dust coating his skin.
For a moment he didn't know where he was. The dome was gone — shattered in thunder and shadow, the world folding into ruin. The echoes of Kaelen's sword striking his void-touched power still reverberated in his bones. He pushed his hands against loose stone and forced himself to breathe through the haze.
"Lyra…" His voice cracked, swallowed instantly by the dust. He coughed again, squinting through the gloom. Panic prickled at the edges of his chest.
A groan answered, faint but real. Elian stumbled toward it, hands scraping against broken marble. His fingers found cloth — torn silk and leather, familiar beneath the grime. Lyra lay half-buried, hair matted with blood, her lip split. She was trying to move, one arm shielding her face from falling grit.
"Don't—" she rasped, her usual fire dimmed but intact, "—don't just stand there. Get me out."
Relief cracked through Elian like light through broken glass. He clawed at the rubble pinning her legs, his raw fingers slipping on jagged stone. She groaned again but shifted, forcing herself free with stubborn effort. Together, coughing, wheezing, they collapsed side by side on the trembling floor.
The silence that followed was unbearable. Too still. Too absolute. Until Elian realized—
"Kaelen," he whispered.
The name carried weight, heavier than the dust pressing into their lungs. Lyra stiffened, her face hardening even through exhaustion. For a moment neither moved. Then Elian struggled upright, ignoring the dizziness dragging at his skull.
They found him ten paces away, half-swallowed by debris. His armor was dented, torn, his once-gleaming blade pinned beneath a collapsed pillar. He was on his side, breath shallow, each rise of his chest a battle against the stone pressing into him. Blood streaked from his temple, pooling dark against white rubble.
Elian froze. In that broken knight's body lay everything — the threat that had hunted him, the blade that nearly cleaved him apart, and perhaps the only man who still believed utterly in duty when all else had fractured.
Lyra's voice was low, strained. "We should leave him."
Elian turned sharply. "He'll die."
"He was trying to kill you."
"He was trying to do his duty."
She gave a sharp, humorless laugh that dissolved into a cough. "Duty? Look at him. His precious Guard crumbled with this dome. All that's left is a man who'd gladly slit your throat if he had the strength."
But even as she said it, her gaze lingered on Kaelen's ragged breathing, on the stubborn grip of his hand around the hilt trapped beneath stone. Something unreadable flickered in her eyes before she scowled and looked away.
Elian knelt beside the knight. Dust clung to every seam of Kaelen's armor. He pressed fingers to his throat. Weak, thready, but alive. Against his better judgment — or perhaps because of it — relief washed through him.
"Elian," Lyra warned.
"I can't," he muttered, voice tight, "I can't leave him like this."
Her silence was heavier than the ruin around them. Finally, she spat into the dust and crouched beside him. "Fine. But if he wakes and tries to gut you again, don't expect me to weep."
Together they worked. The rubble was jagged and cruel, every piece seeming designed to cut into raw skin. Elian's arms shook, dust stung his eyes, and each stone he moved seemed only to reveal another. Lyra cursed under her breath with every effort, but she didn't stop.
At last Kaelen shifted with a groan, the weight loosening enough for them to drag him clear. His blade clattered free, ringing dully against cracked marble. The knight tried to speak, lips parting in a hoarse whisper.
"…Solar…"
The word broke into a cough, blood flecking his lips. His hand groped weakly, seeking the sword that had slipped from him. Elian hesitated, then pushed it just within reach.
Kaelen's fingers brushed the hilt, curled weakly, and then fell away. His eyes fluttered shut, lashes rimmed with grit. For a terrifying moment, Elian thought it was the end. But then his chest rose again, slow and uneven.
Lyra wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. "He won't last long like this."
Elian looked down at the knight's battered frame. Something twisted in him, sharp and unfamiliar. Guilt? Responsibility? Or something more dangerous — empathy.
"We'll keep him alive," he said quietly.
Lyra's head snapped toward him. "Are you mad? Dragging dead weight while we're already being hunted—"
"He's not dead." Elian's voice carried an edge she hadn't heard before. "And I won't make him one."
Her glare lingered, but she didn't argue further. Perhaps she saw something in his eyes, or perhaps she was too tired to fight. She simply turned away, muttering curses as she checked the straps on her satchel.
Kaelen stirred again, barely conscious. His gaze flickered open, glassy, unfocused. For an instant it locked on Elian. No recognition, only instinct. His lips shaped words Elian barely caught.
"Heretic…"
Then his head lolled, and his body sagged into their arms.
The weight of him was immense, heavier than stone. Elian and Lyra shared the burden, dragging him clear of shifting rubble. Each step was agony, their legs trembling under the strain. But slowly, inch by inch, they carried him into a hollow where broken beams arched above like fractured ribs.
The ruin groaned around them, distant echoes of stone still falling. Through the dust above, faint starlight seeped in through jagged cracks in the dome. But the light flickered strangely, as if something vast shifted beyond the sky.
Elian looked up, unease coiling in his gut. He thought he saw shapes in the haze — vast, writhing outlines that could not be real. He blinked, and they were gone.
Lyra slumped against a broken pillar, pulling a flask from her belt with shaking hands. "We can't stay here."
Elian adjusted Kaelen's body, trying to ease his breathing. The knight groaned faintly but did not wake.
"No," Elian said, voice hollow. "But we can't move him far either."
Silence stretched, filled with the sound of their ragged breaths and the faint crackle of settling stone. For the first time, Elian realized how fragile they all were — fractured bodies beneath a fractured sky, clinging to a world already slipping into shadow.
Lyra's gaze softened, just for a heartbeat, as she looked at him. Then it hardened again. "You're going to get us all killed."
"Maybe," Elian whispered. He brushed dust from Kaelen's bruised temple, his hand trembling. "But not today."
Above them, something vast groaned through the stone, a whisper that wasn't wind but shadow itself. The ruin shuddered, a tremor running through the bones of the world. Dust rained down once more, and the air grew colder.
Kaelen's head rolled weakly against Elian's arm. His lips moved, no sound escaping. Then he went still, unconscious at last.
The ruin seemed to exhale with him. But the silence that followed was not peace. It was the hush of something waiting.