Chapter 5: They're Alive
The trek to Fortundra was a grueling blur of aching muscles and restless nights. Every mile dragged me closer to the king’s goal, but my mind was perpetually leagues behind, anchored to the cold, damp shadows of a cave in Silvermere.
Are they even there? I’d ask the flickering embers of our nightly camp. Did they finally come back, only to find the hearth cold? Is Ultarion going to be satisfied with what I’ve brought him, or is this just the beginning of what he’ll demand?
"You’ve gone quiet on me again, Diana."
Karlos’s voice broke the suffocating cycle of my thoughts. We were resting by a rushing river, the mist from the falls cooling the humid air. He was tearing into a piece of roasted fish with his usual rugged appetite, but his dark eyes were fixed on me, sharp and observant.
"I'm just thinking about my parents," I said, keeping my gaze locked on the churning white water. I hoped the roar of the river would swallow the conversation before it could truly begin.
"Where are they now?"
I felt my stomach drop, a hollow ache opening up in my chest. Of course he asked. Karlos was never one to leave a stone unturned. I stared at my own distorted reflection in the moving water, feeling a desperate, childish urge to simply dissolve into the current and wash away. I’d spent a month with Karlos—thirty days of shared meals, narrow escapes from patrols, and whispered jokes under the stars—yet the walls I’d built around my childhood remained unbreached.
"The last time I saw them... I was just a child," I admitted. The words felt like jagged stones in my mouth, heavy and hard to swallow. I forced myself to take a bite of fish, though it tasted like dry ash.
Karlos paused, a piece of fish halfway to his mouth. "A child? I’m confused. I thought you said you were going back to see them? That you missed them?"
I swallowed hard, the lump in my throat feeling like a physical bruise. "They left me by a cave in Silvermere," I murmured, my voice barely audible over the rush of the current. "I haven't seen them since. I don’t... I don't really know why they went, or where. Only that they told me to wait."
"But... letters? A messenger? A sign?" Karlos leaned in, his brow furrowed with a sudden, intense concern. "Anything in all these years?"
I shook my head, my jaw tightening until it ached.
"Not even a—"
"No!" I snapped, my head whipping around to glare at him. The sudden flare of my temper surprised even me, a spark of heat in the cold dampness of my soul. "I need to get back. If they come for me and find the cave empty... if they think I’ve given up on them... I can't let them find it empty, Karlos. I can't."
Karlos’s expression softened, shifting into something that looked painfully like pity. It was the one thing I couldn't stand. His voice dropped to a whisper, barely reaching me. "But Diana, what if they..."
He didn't finish the sentence. He didn't have to. The "what if" hung in the air like a death sentence: What if they’re never coming back?
"They are alive," I said, my voice hardening into a jagged edge. I saw him flinch at the coldness in my tone and immediately felt the sharp sting of regret. I looked back at the river, my shoulders sagging under the weight of a decade of waiting. "I’m sorry. I just... I have to believe it. If I don't, then what has all of this been for?"
"It’s not a crime to be curious about your own life," he said gently, trying to bridge the distance between us with a small, sad smile.
"I’d be asking the same questions if our roles were flipped."
"You're a fighter, but you don't have to fight me."
I stared at him, my throat too tight to offer a real response. He stood up, dusting the dirt from his trousers to shift the heavy atmosphere, his movements fluid and practical.
"We’ve got fifty miles left until we hit the gates of Fortundra," he noted, checking the sun’s position.
"Karlos?" I looked up at him, the looming reality of our impending parting suddenly hitting me harder than the trek ever could. "Thank you. For everything. For not leaving me on the trail."
"The honor was mine," he said. For once, the cheeky traveler—the man who usually had a quip for every crisis—sounded deeply, hauntingly sincere.
"If it’s not too much to ask..." I hesitated, my fingers twisting a loose, frayed thread on my sleeve. "Would you take me back? After we deal with the king at Fortundra? Would you lead me back home?"
"Sure," he said, though his eyes searched mine, his brow furrowing in confusion. "But why me? You've got the map. You know the stars. And you've got Bran to keep you company."
"So I don't get lost," I whispered, the lie tasting bitter.
Karlos’s mouth formed a small, silent 'O' as the truth finally settled between us. It wasn't about the trail or the map or the landmarks. It was about the silence. It was about the terrifying prospect of sitting in that cave alone, listening for footsteps that might never come. He looked at me, his smile turning weak and watery, his eyes reflecting a realization I wasn't ready to face myself.
I looked away, unable to bear the weight of his sympathy. I’d grown to rely on him more than I ever intended—even Bran had traded my shoulder for his more often than not lately. I dreaded the hollow silence that would follow when he eventually left to continue his world travels. He deserved the horizon and the wind in his sails; I was tied to a ghost in a cave. I couldn't ask him to wait with me for a reunion that might never happen, yet I couldn't imagine walking the path back to that emptiness alone.