Chapter 30: The Choices

Improve, make it very very very long and change Poe to Karlos, Rey to Diana, Ben to Zion

Weeks had bled into one another, a blur of grey stone and the relentless, rhythmic ring of steel on steel that had become the soundtrack to our waking nightmare. The air in the capital was thick with the scent of ozone, horse sweat, and the mounting tension of a kingdom preparing for a slaughter. Karlos was only alive because of his gift—that volatile, flickering fire that Ultarion viewed as a tactical asset rather than a human soul—and because I had staked my own life on the desperate promise that I could keep him in line.

Ultarion was no longer just a king; he was a man possessed, an architect of shadows obsessed with crushing Zion and erasing the Kingdom of Fortundra from the map. He saw Karlos and me as his primary weapons—his dagger and his spark—and I hated every second of the service. But the leverage he held was absolute: a heavy, suffocating weight that sat on my chest every time I closed my eyes. It was the promise of my parents’ lives, the chance to finally bridge the gap between that cold night in the cave and the reunion I had dreamed of for a decade.

I lunged, the silver of my dagger catching the torchlight as I swung toward Karlos’s chest. He parried with a sharp, metallic clang that vibrated up my arm and into my teeth, spinning away with a fluid grace that seemed to mock my absolute exhaustion. I stopped, doubling over and clutching my knees, gasping for air as my lungs burned with the cold, dry air of the training hall. My legs felt like leaden weights, trembling under the strain of a dozen hours spent on the unforgiving stone floor.

"I think it's best if you rest, Diana," Karlos gasped, lowering his practice blade. Concern softened his rugged features, cutting through the sweat and the grime of our drills. "You’re going to collapse before the march even begins."

I shook my head stubbornly, wiping a mixture of salt and grit from my brow. "I can't. I have to be fast. I have to be strong enough to face him. To face Zion."

"But you care for him," Karlos countered, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous register. He stepped closer, the fire in the braziers reflecting in his eyes. "I’ve seen the way your hand goes to that pendant when you think I’m not looking. I’ve seen the way your voice hitches when his name is spoken in the war room. I know you do."

"He was a mission, a long one at that," I snapped, though the lie tasted like ash and copper in my mouth. "Nothing more. He is a target, Karlos. A king whose secrets I stole."

Karlos shook his head, a bitter, knowing smile playing on his lips.

"What?" I demanded, my chest heaving.

"I can’t believe I’m saying this, especially after everything I felt when we were in those woods... but this is wrong, Diana. All of it."

"What is?"

"This war. This vendetta. I’ve been watching the reports. I’ve been listening to the scouts. Has Zion ever actually spoken of a plan to attack Silvermere? Has he ever moved a single battalion toward our border without provocation?"

"No," I admitted, my voice sounding small and fragile against the vastness of the hall. "But I was a stranger in his court. He’s the Prince of Shadows—he had no reason to trust me with his grand designs." I began to pace, the anxiety gnawing at my insides like a physical hunger. "Besides, it doesn't matter. It can't matter. I have to see my family again. I have to know they’re alive. I have to know why they left me."

Karlos stepped directly into my path, forcing me to halt. He grabbed my shoulders, his grip firm and grounding. "And how do we know we’re fighting for the right side? I don’t trust Ultarion as far as I can throw him. How do we know your parents are even—"

"Don't!" I shouted, the word echoing off the high, vaulted ceiling like a gunshot. I shook my head violently, my hair flying across my face. "Don't you dare say it."

"Diana, I just want you to be prepared for the possibility that he’s dangling a ghost in front of you—"

"Don't." I closed my eyes, my breath hitching in my chest as the first sob threatened to break through. "Ultarion is a tyrant, he is a monster, but he isn't a liar about this. He wouldn't... he couldn't be that cruel. He gave me details, Karlos. He spoke of things only they would know." I felt Karlos’s warm hands, calloused from years of holding a sword and tempered by the heat of his gift, gently cupping my face.

"Then let’s go to the palace tonight," he whispered, leaning closer until our foreheads touched and I could smell the woodsmoke on his skin. "Not to report. Not to train. We free them ourselves. We leave this war behind, we find the truth, and we stay together. We leave Silvermere and Fortundra to tear each other apart while we find a patch of earth that belongs to us."

A single tear escaped, hot and stinging as it tracked through the dust on my cheek. "Karlos, I can't. If we try and we fail, they die. He’ll hang them just to watch me scream. I'm so scared. I’ve never been this scared in my life."

"Scared of what? We’ve survived the border, we’ve survived the wild..."

"Of losing you," I whispered, the confession finally breaking free. "Of losing the only person who sees me. Of losing everything before I even have a chance to hold it."

Karlos wiped the tear away with his thumb, his expression turning fierce, primal, and absolutely certain. "You won't lose me. Ever. I promise you, on my life and the fire in my blood."

"How can you be so sure?" I sobbed, the dam finally breaking as I collapsed against him. He wrapped his arms tightly around my waist, pulling me into the safety of his chest, shielding me from the cold stone and the weight of the crown. I could hear his heart beating—a fast, frantic thrum that matched my own.

"I just know," he murmured into my hair, his breath warm against my ear.

I pulled back just enough to look at him—really look at him. In these dark, blood-stained weeks, Karlos had become so much more than an ally or a scout. He was my anchor in a world that was trying to sweep me out to sea. The thought of a world without his defiant, crooked smile or the steady heat of his presence was a void I couldn't bear to face. I realized then that I trusted him with more than just my survival; I trusted him with the shattered pieces of my soul.

"Promise me," I whispered, my fingers digging into the leather of his vest, "that no matter what happens when the horns blow, no matter what happens when the steel meets the shadows, we carry each other. We don't let go."

Karlos nodded, a small, sad smile touching his lips—the look of a man who knew the cost of his words but was willing to pay it anyway. "I promise. To the end of the road and whatever lies beyond it."

"I've only ever trusted Bran... until I met you. I didn't think there was room for anyone else."

"I trust you too, Diana. More than the air itself."

"Look, if I ever lost you, I would—"

"You won't," he cut me off, his voice a low, vibrating command that brooked no argument.

He leaned in, and this time, the distance between us vanished entirely. When he kissed me, the cold stone of the training hall, the threat of Ultarion, and the looming ghost of Zion seemed to melt into the shadows. I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him closer, desperate to anchor myself to this single moment of peace, this one honest thing, before the war tore the world apart. I felt the pendant—Zion’s moonstone—pressed between our chests, a cold reminder of the choice I would eventually have to make, but for now, I let the fire of Karlos burn the doubt away.