Only a Story
DAWN
The happier ending resolves cleanly: the princess and bodyguard fall in love. The darker variant is likely a later addition, a cautionary revision reflective of more cynical modern times. The original almost certainly ended in joy.
The fire had burned down to good old-fashioned coals with no flux crystals to sustain them. They pulsed like a heartbeat, red fading to black, red again with the wind.
Dawn stretched her boots into the heat; flask balanced on her knee. Liethi. The good stuff. She took a slow sip. Felt it burn down her throat, settle heavy in her stomach. Not enough to dull shit.
After the hard ride and tending Talia’s wounds, no one had energy to hunt or cook or pitch tents.
They lay the bedrolls in a tight circle around the fire.
Dinner was hardtack and jerky. Talia had crawled into her blankets, but she wasn’t asleep.
Holloway stared at nothing. Lore sat still, like he was waiting.
No wagon train. No supplies. No solid plan except to follow the wheel tracks, and only nine crystals left. Someone needed to say something. Fill up the quiet.
She took another swig. “Ever hear the real story of the lost fae princess?”
Dawn didn’t look at anyone. Easier to lie about the past when you weren’t watching them believe it.
Holloway nodded. Lore didn’t move. Just watched her with that snarky smile, like he knew what she was about to say.
She poked the coals with her stick. A log shifted, sending embers drifting.
“You’ve all heard the faerie story,” she started. “Gowns spun from starlight, palace in the clouds, a princess who fell in love with her sworn protector, and when darkness fell, their love saved the world.”
The fire snapped.
“That’s the kids’ version. The truth’s meaner.”
She leaned forward. Firelight caught the fluxborn teeth strung around her throat and cast jagged shadows.
“Her name was Elanwei. Beautiful, powerful, spoiled to the core. She held power over light and illusion. Could bend sunlight or starlight into any shape, make any fake thing look real. She played princess while her servants worked themselves bloody.”
No one spoke. The wind sighed, and Dawn went on.
“One of those servants had a son who thought duty was the same thing as love. They made him her bodyguard. Poor Althen never stood a chance. All honor and no sense. You know the type. Loyal as a dog. Clueless as one too.”
Talia shifted. “You say that like you knew him.”
Dawn took a long pull from the flask. Didn’t meet Talia’s eyes. “It’s a faerie story. They all sound that way.”
After a pause, she picked up again. “He’d have followed her into the void.
So when she asked him to follow her to bed, he went.
The night they escaped the city to explore their love under the open sky was the night the servants struck.
When they got back that morning, the city was on fire.
Her family had been twisted into starlings and flown away. ”
Dawn stared into the coals.
“If the bitch had cared about her people, she could’ve rebuilt.
Stepped up to lead. Instead, she went into the flames chasing vengeance and didn’t come out again.
Some say she still lingers in Valrotala—a figment with ink-black hair and empty eyes—cutting down anything that reminds her of what she lost.”
A log collapsed inward. The night pressed closer. Stars bright overhead, cold and distant.
Dawn shrugged. “That’s the story anyway.”
“What’s the lesson?” Talia asked quietly. “If the darker version is true, it must mean something.”
Dawn rolled the flask between her hands. Thought of Riven’s laugh. The way he’d stepped between her and danger, always, even when she didn’t want it.
“Love conquers all,” Dawn said sarcastically. “Or maybe hate conquers love. I always get those mixed up.”
Heavy silence followed until Holloway said, “It’s only a story.”
Dawn looked hard at the boy who’d sworn a blood oath two days ago. Like Althen, he’d given up duty and honor for the woman he loved. And Dawn would bet good money that Talia, like the princess, did not share his devotion.
“Sure,” she said. “Just a story.”
Across the fire, Lore’s smile deepened. “Stories have their own kind of power,” he said softly. “We will see the truth of Valrotala with our own eyes soon enough.”
He was looking at Talia when he said it. Dawn saw the way the girl leaned forward, hungry for meaning in a dark place. Lore knew exactly what he was doing. Turning trauma into prophecy. Making chaos feel like destiny. Stories were weapons, and he knew how to wield them.
Dawn stood abruptly. “Get some sleep. We ride again tomorrow.”
Someone added a log to the fire, but Dawn had turned away. Heat pressed at her back as she walked, and the wind cut through her coat, sharp enough to hurt. Good. She needed something that felt real.
The night smelled like iron and flux charge. Some kind of storm was coming. She shivered. That caravan should’ve been at Pickler’s Junction. They should all be approaching the Queen’s Way by now.
Out here, when things weren’t where they should be, it meant blood.