Alden had marched this road before—though not under this sky, and never with a destination so uncertain.
The morning after the ruins was brittle and gray, the kind of dawn that felt reluctant to arrive. Mist clung low to the ground, threading itself between broken stones and charred roots as though trying to hide what had happened. Alden walked at the front now, his sword strapped across his back instead of resting in his hand. Not because the danger had passed, but because he needed both hands free to think.
Behind him, Lyra supported Elysia, their pace slower than he liked. Elysia was awake, alert, stubbornly so—but the color had not returned fully to her face. Every few steps, Alden heard the faint hitch in her breath that told him she was pushing through pain she refused to acknowledge.
It reminded him too much of soldiers who pretended their wounds were nothing until they collapsed.
"You're staring again," Lyra said quietly, drawing level with him. Her voice was low, careful not to carry.
"Just checking the perimeter," Alden replied.
Lyra arched an eyebrow. "You've checked it five times in the last minute."
He exhaled through his nose. "Then it's still my job."
Lyra studied him for a moment longer before nodding. "Fair enough."
They walked in silence for a while, the kind that pressed in on Alden's thoughts rather than easing them. The clash in the ruins replayed in his mind—the way Kael had smiled, the sound of the ground breaking open, the look on Elysia's face when she realized people had died because of her.
Alden had seen that look before.
It was the same one young recruits wore after their first real battle.
They stopped near midday by a shallow stream, clear enough to drink from. Lyra insisted on rest, and this time Alden didn't argue. He crouched by the water, washing ash from his hands, watching it swirl away like memories he couldn't quite scrub clean.
"You fight like an officer," Lyra said behind him. "But you don't carry rank."
Alden stiffened slightly. "Rank gets people killed."
"That's not an answer."
He straightened and turned to face her. "It's the only one I give."
Lyra accepted that—for now—and moved away to check on Elysia. Alden remained by the stream, eyes unfocused as the past finally caught up to him.
He had once worn a banner.
Deep blue cloth, edged in silver thread—the Eastern Kingdom's colors. He had believed in it then. Believed in borders, commands, and the idea that obedience could make the world orderly. He had risen quickly, too quickly. Praise had come easily. Responsibility had followed.
Then came Greyfen. Then the eastern siege lines. Then orders that should never have been given.
Burn the city. Break resistance. Make an example.
Alden had carried out the first two before realizing the third meant slaughter.
He still remembered the screams.
"You don't have to carry that alone," Elysia said softly.
He looked up, startled. She stood a few paces away, leaning heavily on a fallen log but watching him with unsettling clarity.
"You heard something," he said.
"I didn't need to," she replied. "It's written all over you."
Alden looked away. "I was a soldier. I followed orders."
"And then you stopped," she said.
That made him look back.
"You wouldn't be here if you hadn't," she continued. "People who don't stop don't walk away."
Alden swallowed. "Walking away didn't save anyone."
"But you're trying now," Elysia said. Her voice was steady, but there was steel beneath it. "You stayed when you could have run. You stood between me and Kael. That matters."
For a long moment, Alden couldn't speak.
Finally, he nodded once. "I don't fight for kingdoms anymore."
Elysia met his gaze. "Then what do you fight for?"
Alden considered the question, really considered it, before answering.
"For the chance to choose."
Lyra approached, expression unreadable. "We need to move again. The fracture's echo will draw attention."
Alden rose to his feet, adjusting his gear. He took his place at the front once more—not as a commander, not as a deserter, but as something in between.
A soldier with no banner.
And as they set back onto the road, Alden knew one thing with absolute certainty:
If the world was determined to hunt Elysia for what she was becoming, then it would have to go through him first.
Whatever that cost.