The forest was quiet.
Not with the peace of a resting world, but with the hush that followed something broken. No birds called, no wind stirred. Even the insects seemed to have vanished, as if nature itself were holding its breath.
Neil sat cross-legged at the edge of the fireless camp, watching the trees through the heavy silence. His thoughts churned, but he kept still. The morning light filtered through the canopy in weak, fractured beams. The forest had not returned to normal. The air was still strange, heavier than it should have been. Every breath carried weight.
Elara knelt beside Calen, who lay propped against a folded cloak. He hadn't moved much since the storm passed. His breathing had grown shallow. Pale skin, sunken cheeks, a faint tremble in his limbs. There was no healing this, Neil knew. Not with what they had.
Calen's eyes opened slowly.
Neil noticed first. He rose and stepped over. Elara leaned in closer, brushing strands of hair from Calen's damp forehead. His lips parted, dry and cracked, but he smiled faintly.
"You stayed," he rasped.
"Of course we did," Elara said quietly.
Calen turned his gaze to Neil. "Didn't think you'd come back."
Neil looked down, hands tightening at his sides. "I should have been here."
Calen blinked slowly, then shook his head just barely. "Doesn't matter now. I've got… one last thing. Before I go."
Elara leaned closer, frowning. "Don't talk like that."
But Calen was already fumbling with something around his neck. His fingers shook as they worked a small knot free. A simple leather cord fell into his hand. Hanging from it was a dull gray pendant, rough in shape but faintly etched with ancient lines, runes time had almost erased.
He held it out toward Elara.
"She has the others," he whispered.
Elara took it gently, looking down at the pendant in her palm. "Who?"
"My sister." Calen's voice was thin now. "She was… she was the talented one. Not like me."
Neil knelt beside them, watching carefully. Calen didn't seem afraid, just tired.
"They took her with the main group," he continued. "To the pods. Said she'd have a chance. Said she'd matter." He coughed, blood flecking his lips. "Parents gave us the set before they died. Four pieces. This one's mine. She's got the rest."
Elara brushed the hair from his face again, tears shining in her eyes but not falling. "What's her name?"
"Selene."
Calen swallowed hard. His eyes unfocused for a moment, then came back to her.
"If she's alive… just tell her I didn't forget. That I… I made it a little further than they thought I would."
"You did," Elara said, her voice breaking. "You made it further than any of us expected. And you mattered."
Neil reached over and placed a hand gently on Calen's shoulder. "We'll try to find her. I promise."
Calen smiled faintly at them both. "Good."
For a time, he was silent again. His breath slowing, his body unmoving except for the faintest rise and fall of his chest.
Then, after a long pause, he spoke once more, almost inaudible.
"Thank you… for not letting me die alone."
His eyes closed.
The rise of his chest paused, then fell, then didn't rise again.
Elara stayed still for a long while. Her hand was still on his shoulder, unmoving. Her eyes fixed on his face. Her jaw was tight, her posture stiff.
Neil lowered his head. There was nothing else to say.
Then Elara leaned forward, closing Calen's eyes with one hand. She set the pendant aside and pulled the cloak over his body.
It wasn't until she stood and turned that her composure cracked.
She stepped into Neil's arms without a word. No warning, no hesitation. She buried her face in his chest, arms tightening around him like she was afraid he would vanish too. Her body trembled with silent sobs, but she made no sound.
Neil didn't speak. He just held her.
For once, there was nothing to protect her from. Nothing he could fight.
And maybe that was the worst part.
He stood there in silence, letting her grief pass into him, sharing what weight he could. The pendant lay beside Calen's still form, catching the morning light.
In the quiet that followed, the forest finally exhaled.
They buried Calen beneath a tree with white-veined bark, in a quiet clearing not far from the camp.
The earth was damp, softened by earlier rain, and yielded with effort. Neil and Elara worked in silence, the rhythmic sound of the shovel the only thing marking time. When the grave was ready, Neil wrapped Calen's body in the elf's travel cloak and lowered him gently into the earth. His movements were steady, careful—offering the only kind of respect left to give.
Elara knelt beside the grave, fingers brushing the surface of the pendant Calen had entrusted to her. She didn't let go. Instead, she closed her hand around it and held it to her chest, her gaze never leaving the lifeless form below.
"I'll keep it safe," she whispered. "I'll find her, Calen. I swear it."
They filled in the grave together. No stone marked the site. No name carved. The elves buried their dead in silence and carried the memory with them. It was their way.
Neil stepped back when it was done, wiping sweat and dirt from his brow. Elara stood still for a long while, staring at the mound of earth as if trying to memorize it. When she turned to him, her face was calm, but her eyes were dark with something deeper.
They walked back to camp in silence.
When they reached the edge, Elara paused near the log where Neil had sat the previous night. She didn't say anything at first—just looked at him, then at the pendant in her hand. Finally, she spoke.
"Sit with me."
Neil sat. She joined him, placing the pendant gently into a small leather pouch and tying it to her belt. Her hands rested on her knees, and for a long moment, she didn't speak again.
"He wasn't strong," she said quietly, "but he made people feel safe."
Neil turned his eyes toward the fire. "He did."
Elara nodded slowly. "He was loud. Stubborn. But kind. And brave in his own way." Her voice trembled, barely noticeable. "He wasn't meant to survive this long. He knew that. But he still did everything he could."
There was another silence. The kind that didn't feel heavy, just full.
"I wish I could've done more," Neil said after a moment. "I should've been here."
She glanced at him, her face unreadable. "You said you'd be gone for a few days."
"I know."
"We waited," she continued, her voice steady. "We trusted that you'd come back. Not because we expected you to fix everything… but because we believed you'd stand with us."
Neil felt the words land hard in his chest. He didn't flinch, but he didn't look at her either.
"I'm not blaming you," Elara added after a moment. "But when the storm hit… and the children started dying… it was hard not to wonder what might've been different if you'd been here."
He nodded once, slowly. "I understand."
Elara exhaled, looking down at the ground. "We can't undo what happened. But we can carry what's left."
She reached down to touch the pouch on her belt.
"I'm going to find his sister," she said. "Even if it takes years."
Neil looked over at her. "I'll help."
She turned to him, and for the first time in days, the sharp tension in her gaze softened. "Thank you."
They sat in silence, listening to the wind shift through the trees. The worst of the storm had passed, but the forest still felt fragile. The world had changed, and it would keep changing.
But for now, they were still breathing. Still standing.
And that had to be enough.