Chapter 6- The Close Call-Part 2

Ravensha's shout broke the moment. "Now!"

Flahera's arrow flew from the burning rooftops, glowing with blue fire. It struck Maloney's shoulder, sending her stumbling back. Jack leapt forward, driving his sword down in a clean, controlled arc that forced her to retreat.

Before vanishing, Maloney flung one last spell - a concussive blast that cracked the earth. The shockwave hurled us all apart. I slammed into a pillar, vision blurring, the taste of blood copper-sharp in my mouth. Through the ringing in my ears, I heard the echo of her laughter fade into the wind, carried off with the smoke.

Maloney hissed, blood spilling down her arm. "You'll regret this, child. The moon always wanes."

And with that, she vanished - dissolving into a cloud of ash and smoke.

The sudden silence was deafening. Only the crackle of dying fire remained.

When the last echo of Maloney's laughter faded, the silence that followed was almost cruel.

The air was thick with soot. My vision pulsed in and out of focus, every heartbeat sending pain lancing through my ribs.

Ravensha reached me first - her unnatural, demon-born speed cutting through the smoke. She dropped to her knees beside me, sliding across the scorched stone. Her hands were slick with my blood as she pressed them hard against the wound.

"Don't move, Luna," she hissed. "You're bleeding too fast."

"I've had worse," I lied. My voice came out ragged, half-choked, more breath than sound.

Jack knelt on my other side, his armor scorched and dented, breath coming in shallow gasps. "The fires are out," he managed. "Villagers are safe. Maloney's gone - for now."

"Gone isn't dead," Ravensha muttered, binding a strip of torn cloth tight around my side.

Her hands trembled - just once - before she forced them still.

Danny hovered nearby, soot-streaked and wide-eyed. "I thought she-" His voice broke, the words dying in his throat.

I reached out, resting a hand on his shoulder. "You did well, Danny," I said quietly. "You saved that child."

He looked away, jaw tightening. "You saved me."

I didn't answer. I didn't know how.

The silence that followed was heavy - the kind that settles after victory bought too dearly. The air still smelled of smoke and blood, of things that should never have burned. And beneath it all, the ley lines pulsed faintly beneath the ground - a heartbeat that no longer felt like mine.

---

We made for the bell tower - the only structure left half-standing at the edge of the village. Its shattered frame leaned like a wounded sentinel against the red sky. From there, we could see the full breadth of destruction: blackened fields, smoking rooftops, the faint shimmer of fairy lights flickering in mourning.

No one spoke. Words felt small.

When the bell finally fell, it did so with a hollow, shattering note that carried for miles.

It sounded like the world exhaling.

The tower's last stones fell into place of ruin, and for a long time, none of us moved. My armor was still warm from the lightning, the scent of iron clinging to my hair. Ravensha stood with her back to me, shoulders tight, as if holding herself together by sheer will. Jack knelt by the rubble, head bowed, whispering something I couldn't hear - maybe a prayer, maybe an apology. Danny sat apart, staring at his hands, as though he couldn't decide if they still belonged to him.

At last, I said quietly, "We'll camp nearby. The villagers need somewhere to return to when dawn comes."

No one argued. We were too tired to.

---

Night fell slow and uneven. The fires dimmed to embers. We built a small camp beyond the ruins, where the earth still breathed cool air and the stars dared to show their faces again.

The retainers gathered around the flames - armor loosened, weapons set aside, faces lit by the soft flicker of orange.

I sat wrapped in a torn cloak, the bandage around my ribs sticky with blood. The warmth of the fire barely reached me, yet the quiet was a relief. My body ached in every place that could ache. My magic felt hollowed out, as if I'd poured too much of myself into the fight and left nothing behind.

For a while, we just listened to the forest. It was strange - after hours of chaos, even silence sounded violent. Every pop of the fire, every rustle of wind felt too loud. Danny was the first to speak.

"You know," he said softly, staring into the flames, "if you'd told me yesterday I'd face down a dark mage, I'd have run the other way."

Jack gave a quiet chuckle - more breath than laughter. "Most sane people would've."

Flahera smirked faintly from where she sat sharpening her blade. "He's not sane, just lucky."

Danny frowned. "Luck's just a word for people who don't know what fear feels like."

That shut everyone up. Even the fire seemed to pause between crackles.

Ravensha glanced at him - then at me. "Fear's what keeps you breathing," she said at last. "And what makes it hurt when you stop."

Jack looked up from his hands. "You mean when someone else almost stops."

Ravensha's jaw tightened, but she didn't reply.

For a few breaths, the only sound was the wind sighing through the trees. The moon was high now - pale and distant, casting long silver streaks across our camp. Its light made the blood on my armor gleam like frost. My head drooped, exhaustion dragging me toward sleep, but part of me refused to close my eyes. Too many ghosts waited behind them.

Flahera shifted, pulling her cloak tighter. "We lived," she murmured. "That's something."

Jack nodded slowly. "It'll have to be enough."

Ravensha looked across the fire at me. "You should rest, Luna."

"I can't."

"You should."

I managed a faint smile. "If I do, I'll dream of fire again."

She hesitated, then said quietly, "Then we'll keep watch. Someone has to keep the dark from stealing you twice in one day."

That earned the smallest laugh from me - cracked and weary but real.

Danny fed another stick into the fire, watching the sparks drift upward into the night. They rose, dimmed, and vanished - like souls finding their way home.

No one spoke after that.

We simply sat together, breathing in the quiet, the night pressing close around us.

And for the first time since the battle began, I felt something fragile and human settle inside me.

Not peace - never peace.

But survival.

-

We rode until the smoke was nothing more than a ghost on the horizon - a faint gray bruise against the darkening sky. No one spoke. The only sounds were the steady rhythm of hooves on packed earth, the creak of worn leather, and the wind sighing through the trees, carrying the scent of ash and rain.

The sun was sinking low, spilling gold and scarlet across the world. Its light caught on the dust that clung to our cloaks and armor, turning our weariness into something almost noble. Soot streaked our faces, blood marked our sleeves, and yet it was the silence - heavy and unbroken - that spoke most clearly of the day's toll.

At last, Jack drew his horse to a slow halt. He lifted a hand toward the valley below, where the land dipped into shadow.

"There," he said quietly. "An inn. My family's."

I followed his gaze. Nestled between two ridges of black pine, a building of amber stone stood bathed in the last light of sunset. Lanterns glimmered at the windows like tired stars, and a thin column of smoke drifted from the chimney - the scent of woodfire and something faintly sweet carried on the wind.

A fragile calm settled over me then, as if the world itself had exhaled. For the first time since the flames rose behind us, I felt something close to peace.

"Then that's where we'll rest," I said. My voice was softer than I intended. "Moonhaven still needs us - and we can't help them if we break before the next dawn."

Jack nodded, and together we urged our horses down the slope, toward the promise of light and warmth waiting in the valley.

-

By the time we reached the gates, night had claimed the valley. Fireflies drifted among the tall grass like wandering stars, their faint light weaving through the darkness in slow, graceful arcs. The inn stood ahead, its windows glowing amber against the shadowed pines. The scent of smoke and baked bread hung in the cool air - a promise of warmth after too many cold nights.

When I swung down from my horse, my knees nearly buckled. The wound in my side - the one that had barely begun to close - pulsed with every breath, a dull, relentless ache beneath the bandages. I tried to hide the tremor in my hand as I steadied myself on the saddle. The others pretended not to notice, though I could feel their worried glances.

Before anyone could speak, the door burst open and a blur of motion flew toward us - a small girl, no older than ten, her dark braid bouncing as she ran straight for Jack.

"Brother!" she cried, and threw a fist squarely into his stomach.

Jack grunted, bending with the blow. "Violet-!"

She glared up at him, tears threatening to spill. "Mother's been worried sick! You promised you'd visit after the last campaign!"

Despite the pain radiating up my side, I found myself smiling. My voice came out softer than I intended. "That would be my fault, little one. I've kept your brother far too busy saving kingdoms and slaying evil. If you must blame someone, blame me instead."

Violet froze, her indignation faltering as she looked up at me - really looked. "You're... you're the princess?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"So they tell me," I said, managing a wry smile.

Her face lit up, bright and unguarded, and she giggled - a sound so pure it cut through the weariness clinging to me. The tension in my chest eased, if only for a heartbeat. I hadn't realized how much I'd missed laughter.

"Mother! They're here!" Violet shouted as she darted back inside, her voice trailing warmth into the night.

I exhaled slowly, pressing a hand to my side as the pain flared again. The others dismounted in silence, careful not to draw attention to the way I swayed. Jack lingered beside me, pretending to tighten his reins, his shoulder close enough to catch me if I fell.

"Come on," I said quietly, forcing strength into my tone. "Let's not keep your family waiting."

We followed Violet into the inn - into light, into the scent of pinewood fire and fresh bread, and for the first time since the battlefield, into something that almost felt like peace.