Chapter 37 Silent Sorrow
Silent Sorrow
The forest was quiet except for the occasional wind through the leaves rustling around the forest floor.
Riona sat atop a moss-covered boulder at the top of Aonach, arms wrapped tightly around her knees.
From here, she could see the city of Lumora, the outposts and the meadows, things that once brought her comfort. But not today, not anymore.
Especially not after the meeting in the library, she wanted nothing to do with any of it.
She closed her eyes, digging her nails into her palms, drawing the slightest bit of blood. Emry’s face flashed in her mind—his soft smile, the way he’d look at her, the tender kisses they’d shared. Then, that final moment: his limp body in her arms, the light gone from his eyes.
And Sorcha. The thought of her made Riona’s stomach turn with a mix of anger and resentment. Her fists clenched tighter against her legs. She hadn’t wanted to feel this way. Not about her best friend, not about Sorcha. But she couldn’t stop the thoughts from creeping in.
If she hadn’t gone to save the commander first, if she’d come to us instead, maybe Emry would still be alive.
The thought hit her like a punch to the chest. She hated it. Hated herself for even thinking it. But it was there, and it wouldn’t leave; it was a wraith haunting the dark corners of her mind.
Her thoughts drifted back to the night of the festival.
She had been fighting desperately, trying to protect their people.
Then Sorcha appeared in a blaze of light and fire, tearing through the enemy as if the world bent to her will.
If she could do that, why didn’t she do it sooner?
Why did she save the commander and not them?
“She should have chosen us,” Riona whispered, her voice shaking. “She should have chosen Emry.”
She hated how much she missed him. She hated the hollow ache in her chest. She hated that Sorcha was still here, still breathing, still with Kyron at her side.
Kyron.
His name was bitter in her mouth as she bit the inside of her cheek.
It flooded with the taste of metal as her fingernails bit deeper into her skin, drawing a steady flow of blood that she didn’t seem to notice.
She had seen the way he looked at Sorcha, the way he stayed close to her.
He was too much like Emry and too much like what they had, of what she’d lost. And now Kyron was part of their circle, standing where Emry should have been.
They did not even ask me, she thought. Maybe it was my fault for keeping my distance, but how could they?
The anger and grief becoming an entangled mess of threads that seemed impossible to tell where one ended and the other began. The ache in her chest burning so deeply she thought she might stop breathing as the thoughts crashed into her.
She gets to be the hero. She gets to save Lumora.
And I’m the one left behind. The one they stare at and whisper about, the one they walk on glass around. Poor Riona, she couldn’t save him.
Their pity was like reopening a wound and she couldn’t heal when being struck in the same place time and again.
Her vision blurred as the tear fell, dropping her head to her knees, she rocked.
Letting herself weep for all her that she lost, all the parts of her that left with him.
She didn’t know how to let go of this anger, this hatred that burned inside her like a poison.
But then a thought came: Maybe I don’t have to let it go. Maybe I just need somewhere familiar yet new; to the mountains I’ll go, home.
Riona had made up her mind in that moment. She would leave in silence and even though the thought stung, it was easier than explaining, and the goodbye would hurt far less.
She inhaled deeply, the scent of late blossoms and pine trees itching at her nose as her eyes fell heavy on Lumora. The place she called home.
Her gaze swept over the golden spires jutting out toward the clouds. She listened to the sounds of laughter and the roar of the falls echoing off the hills, and then her eyes landed on the oak tree overlooking Emry’s grave. A pang of regret and sadness clawed its way back into her chest.
It was time to leave this all behind and take the parts of Emry she held dearly with her to someplace new.
Somewhere she could start again. Her legs felt weak and her knees made a popping sound as she stood, wiping her mossy hands on her pants as she straightened.
The wind whipped at her face, her hair a rope in the wind as she leapt from the boulder onto the ground below and began her trek toward town.
Commander Nethran met her near the barracks, his brows drawn tight as he listened. The sap lamps swayed overhead, casting soft, golden light across her face.
“I’m heading home to Cailleach’s Keep,” she had told him. “I need time and if the circle there will have me, I’ll join them.”
Nethran studied her, searching for even a flicker of emotion. She gave him none and finally after a long moment, he nodded, his expression shadowed with understanding and sorrow.
“The Keep’s circle will be lucky to have you,” he said finally. “Take care, Riona.”
As she walked away from their conversation, home became a clear vision in her mind. The towering, snowcapped mountains of Cailleach’s Keep, harsh and unyielding, but they were home. The chill of the air, the frostbitten trees, and the gleaming peaks had always been home.
If anything could make me strong again, it’s those mountains, she thought.
She longed for familiar faces, yet craved distance from everything that reminded her of Emry.
The streets of Lumora. The other members of the circle.
The forest paths they once walked together.
Everything here was haunted by his memory, by the life they would never have.
It was the cruelest punishment she had ever known. To love, and then be left to live with the ghost of what could have been.
Riona adjusted the pack on her shoulder as she approached the northern gate. With one last look at the fading lights of Lumora, she mounted her horse. Tears streaked her cheeks as she turned toward the path leading north, her heart heavy but certain.