Professor Valerius spoke in a rough whisper. "Elara… I… I am so sorry."
The words were not an explosion. They were an emptiness.
The harbor noises—the wailing parents, the yelling officials, the groaning ship—all of them receded into a distant, echoing roar. Elara's eyes, those vibrant violet eyes so reminiscent of her son's, never left Valerius. She saw his anguish, his defeat. She saw Dain, twenty feet off, his face in his hands, his wide shoulders quivering with silent weeping. She saw Ilya, standing like a statue of ice, her silver eyes wide and empty, looking at nothing. She saw Kaelan Brightblade, the golden prince, kneeling on the flagstone dock, his body shaking, his face a horror of shocked guilt.
And she also witnessed the Senior healers carrying Lia to the hospital.
She saw everyone.
Everyone, save Kairen.
Her hand, which had been pushed against her heart, dropped to her side. The blue shawl, the one he used to tease her about, slid from her shoulders and drifted to the stone. Her knees, rigid with terror for an hour, gave way at last.
It was not a scream. It was a quiet, tearing gasp, the sound of a world breaking, a sound that cut through the harbor and brought the new day to a dead, horrifying stop.
"No…" she breathed, her hands clutching at the empty air as she collapsed. "No, no, no, you're wrong… He's just hurt. He's on the ship. Where is he?"
Valerius rushed to grab her, his face a disaster of self-hatred. "Elara…"
"Where is Magister Kellan?!" a harsh new voice snapped, interrupting the sorrow.
Kellan himself burst through the crowd, his face hard, his aura of command vibrating. He had just arrived from headquarters, his own heart an icy block of fear. He spotted Valerius, he spotted the shattered students, and he spotted Elara lying on the ground.
He was too late.
"Valerius, what is this? Report!" Kellan barked, his tone a low growl.
Valerius glanced up, his friend, his superior. "I… we were ambushed. A trap. Hellhounds, Rank Three. Lia is completely injured; she was in a near-dead state. And Zephyrwind… he…" Valerius's voice broke. "He stayed behind. He covered the retreat. The cave… it collapsed on him, sir. He's gone."
Kellan's blood chilled. He gazed at Elara, her face pale, her body trembling. This was Elara. His oldest friend's wife. The woman he had promised himself in secret to guard. He had failed. He had failed the both of them.
He knelt, his own armor creaking on the stone. He rested a hand on her shoulder. His voice, normally so harsh, was soft, but commanding.
"Elara, listen to me."
She winced, gazing up at him, her eyes empty. "He's… he's…"
He is Missing in Action," Kellan stated, his tone iron-hard, compelling her to look into his eyes. "He is Missing-In-Action, not Killed-In-Action. Do you get it? There is a difference. Our best retrieval team, the 'Iron Reapers,' was already on their way. They are ten minutes outside of the island. We never confirm a Zephyrwind dead until we receive a body. We do not stop looking. Not yet.
He was lying. Or, at least, he was peddling a one-in-a-million hope. But he was a commander, and this was not a fight he would give up. He motioned to a healer. "Take her home. Stay with her. I will come directly to you as soon as I hear something."
Ten minutes after, on the turbulent shores of the Isle of Whispers, the Iron Reapers' transport ship crashed onto the beach. The air was not filled with the howling of demons, but with a cold, supernatural silence. The trees were aflame. The earth was a churned-up mess of ash, blood, and smoldering craters.
Captain Vorlag, the squad leader, stepped onto the beach, his massive, scarred hand resting on the hilt of his greatsword.
"What in the hells happened here?" he growled.
The air smelled wrong. It was thick with the stench of ozone, brimstone, and something else… something cold and ancient and blue.
"Sir," said his lieutenant, her tone strained, "ambient magic levels are through the roof. I'm reading. I don't even know what I'm reading. It's not demonic."
"Spread out!" Vorlag bellowed, cutting through the unnatural silence. "We're searching for a survivor. First-year. Name Zephyrwind. Last seen by a cave to the west. Go!
His team spread out, their armor clanking in the unnatural quiet. They advanced through the flaming forest, guns at the ready, jumping over the bodies of dead Hellhounds and Razorclaws. The sheer quantity of dead demons was overwhelming.
"Captain!" a scout shouted. "You have to see this!"
Vorlag sprinted into the clearing. It was a huge crater, one that had formed around a collapsed cave. The earth was… crystallized. The rock itself had been distorted, melted, and reformed into shards of jagged blue-black glass, all of it glowing with a faint, icy light. The nearest Hellhound bodies to the cave weren't merely dead; they'd vanished, becoming swaths of thin, blue-glowing ash.
My gods," Vorlag breathed. "What did this? A Demon Lord?"
"No, sir," the scout said, his finger extended. "Look."
Upside down, pinned between two shards of the crystallized rock, caught as if the boy had been yanked away by an unbelievable strength, was a patch of cloth.
It was the battered remains of an academy uniform jacket. It was blood-soaked.
Vorlag knelt, his gauntleted hand carefully drawing it loose. The material was seared at the edges, not by flame, but by that same cold, blue power that had distorted the stone. And caught on the frayed collar, that caught the faint light, was a small, silver, wing-shaped charm.
He knew it. All veterans did. It was Torren Zephyrwind's sigil.
"Search the place!" Vorlag shouted, a fresh, frantic need in his voice. "Rip this island to shreds! Discover him! Discover something!"
They searched for an hour. They discovered weapons. They discovered bodies of demons.
But of Kairen Zephyrwind, there was no other sign. Not a boot. Not a sword. Not even bones.
He had simply. disappeared.
The silence in Elara's living room was thick with noise, greater than any scream. She perched on the sofa, her fingers clasped around a now cold cup of tea. The armchair across from her was occupied by Headmaster Alistair, his face set in a map of age-old, tired sadness.
Magister Kellan stood at the window, his back to them, arms crossed, his eyes fixed on the city as he waited. Each strike of the clock on the mantel was a hammer blow.
The communication crystal on the table finally rang.
Kellan had it in his hand before the second ring. "Report, Captain."
Captain Vorlag's grim face materialized in view. He was once more aboard his ship. He didn't waste time.
"Magister. Headmaster. We've looked everywhere on the island. The island is… damaged. The demonic presence has been driven out, but the origin is unidentified."
Alistair inched forward. "And Kairen? Did you locate him?"
Vorlag's expression hardened. He remained silent. He just raised the item his team had discovered.
The torn, blood-soaked strip of jacket. The miniature, silver wing charm, hanging from the fabric.
Kellan's breath caught.
From the couch, Elara let out a small, fractured noise.
"No…"
She rose from the couch, her hand extended, as if she could reach across the chair and claim it.
"That's…" she breathed, her voice breaking. "I… I fixed that collar last week. I… I warned him to be careful with the clasp…"
Alistair closed his eyes. Kellan turned his face away from the chair, his jaw locked so hard a muscle twitched in his cheek.
"The allure was all that remained of his father," Elara strangled out, a raw cry finally escaping. "He vowed to me… He vowed he'd return home…"
She fell back onto the sofa, her body curving in upon itself, her sorrow too big for the tiny room.
Kellan's voice was stone. "Received, Captain. Get back to base."
The crystal darkened.
The funeral was two days later, in the Grand Hall of the academy. The sky was a hard, cold gray, and the rain came down lightly. The hall was filled to capacity. Teachers and students, parents and city officials stood side by side.
Before them, two caskets lay, covered with the silver-and-blue flag of the academy. Both were empty.
Headmaster Alistair stood by the lectern, his words weighed down as he discussed Lia's courage, her sacrifice, her unobtrusive strength. He moved then to the second casket.
"We are not gathered here today to mourn a student," he declared, his voice choking with emotion. "We are gathered here today to celebrate a hero. Kairen Zephyrwind… he came to us thinking he had nothing. That he was a 'dud,' a 'blank.' He was wrong.
Alistair gazed out at the students. At Dain, his face was pale and tear-stained. At Ilya, her face an unreadable mask, but her fists so tight they were white-knuckled. At Kaelan, in the back of the classroom, his head lowered, a ghost of the boy he had once been.
"Kairen taught us what strength is really about. It's not the strength you're born with. It's the decision you make to get up when everyone else falls. He gave his life for his friends, for his classmates. He died. as his father lived. A true hero of Azurefall."
The hall was filled with the murmur of silent sobbing.
Once the ceremony had ended and the crowd had broken up, Dain was left behind. His heavy boots clopped on the stone floor as he made his way to Kairen's casket. One big, shaking hand reached out and touched the smooth wood.
"You idiot," he breathed, his voice shattering as tears ran down his cheeks. "You stupid, wonderful. idiot. You weren't supposed to do it by yourself. You weren't supposed to leave me."
He gagged on a sob, his sorrow freezing into bitter, fiery anger. He buried his forehead in the wood.
"I swear to you, Kairen," he snarled, his entire frame trembling. "I'm going to get strong enough for both of us. I'll be the shield you required. And I will eradicate every single one of those things from the surface of this earth. I swear it. I'll kill them all."
He moved back, wiping his face with a furious, awkward gesture.
Ilya waited until he had disappeared. She went to the casket, alone, silent in the great, empty hall. She didn't weep. Her hurt was too profound for that, a cold, crystal thing buried beneath layers of will. She touched the cool, polished lid with a light hand, her fingers tracing the academy crest that had been carved into its surface.
"'You told me I was 'scary smart,'" she breathed, her voice low enough that it sounded like it was going to get lost in the rain. "But I wasn't. I was a fool."
A solitary tear slipped out, making a path down her cheek. She didn't brush it off.
"I examined your 'void' as 'space,' as 'potential'… I never saw… this. You were always the one who was real, Kairen. You showed me that a heart is greater than a mind, and I… I wasn't there to…"
She could not continue. She stood up, her silver eyes growing cool and hard as chips of ice.
I will uncover the truth," it promised to the vacant casket. "I will discover what that ability was, and why it claimed you. I won't leave you a memory. I will know."
She turned and stepped out of the hall, the caskets, the flowers, and rain behind her, her new vow a hard, heavy burden in her chest.