She knelt before him, her hands, soft and uncalloused, reaching out to gently cup his small, dirt-stained face. "Kael," she murmured, her voice a soothing melody that cut through the oppressive silence. "My dear boy." Her eyes, the color of a clear twilight sky, held a depth of understanding that Kael had not encountered since the horrors of the previous night. He flinched at first, his instincts screaming caution, a learned response from the brutal betrayal he had endured. But Elara's gaze was steady, devoid of the malice he had seen twisted into familiar faces. There was no judgment, only a raw, undeniable compassion.
"Are you hurt?" she asked, her thumb gently stroking his cheekbone. Kael could only shake his head, tears welling in his eyes as the dam of his stoicism finally broke. The pent-up grief, the terror, the crushing loneliness – it all spilled out in ragged sobs. He pressed his face into her warm, woolen cloak, inhaling the subtle scent of lavender and aged paper, a fragrance that spoke of comfort and knowledge. It was a stark, welcome contrast to the lingering stench of smoke and death. Elara held him close,her embrace a sanctuary, a silent promise that he was not entirely alone.
Minutes later, a man emerged from the carriage, his stride purposeful yet gentle. This was Lyraen Solas, Elara's husband, a man of intellect and quiet contemplation, his silver-streaked hair framing a face that bore the marks of countless hours spent poring over ancient texts. He approached them slowly, his gaze fixed on Kael. There was a sadness in his eyes, a shared understanding of loss, for he too had known the sting of it in his own life, though the details remained a mystery to Kael. He placed a hand on Elara's shoulder, then rested his other hand on Kael's head, his touch surprisingly gentle. "A terrible thing, young Kael," he said, his voice a low rumble,resonant with sincerity. "A truly terrible thing."
They didn't press him for details, didn't probe the wounds that were still too raw. Instead, they spoke in hushed, comforting tones, offering him a warmth that began to thaw the ice around his heart. They spoke of their son, Riven, a boy of the same age, a solitary child who found solace in the quiet companionship of books and the vastness of the star-dusted sky. "He will be so glad to meet you," Elara said, her voice laced with a hopeful anticipation that Kael found surprisingly comforting. "He needs a friend, Kael, and you… you deserve one."