Losing a Loved One Together
You promised, and I believed you.
There was too much of it.
Cale knelt beside your body, his hands trembling as he pressed down on your wound. His normally steady handsācapable of holding the weight of the worldāwere unsteady, desperate. His red hair, matted with dirt and blood, fell over his pale face as he gritted his teeth. He ignored the searing pain from overusing his ancient powers, focused only on you.
Your breathing was shallow. Too shallow. The life that once burned in your eyes, the spark that had always met his gaze with warmth, was flickering like a candle in the wind.
No, Cale muttered, shaking his head, his voice rough. No, donāt you dare. You said youād be fine. Youā He stopped, biting down on the words, his throat tight. His vision blurred. Damn it. This wasnāt supposed to happen.
I already told you that your life is more important if you face some danger just run..
You smiled weakly, your fingers twitching as they reached for his hand. He immediately grasped them, holding them tightly, as if sheer will alone could keep you tethered to this world.
Cale, you whispered. Your voice was barely there, but it was enough. It made something in his chest cave in.
Donāt talk, he said, voice tight with restrained emotions. He didnāt care how hoarse he sounded, didnāt care that his usual calm faƧade was crumbling. His fingers clenched around yours, desperate, unwilling. Justāstay awake. The priest is coming. The potionsāothers will be here.
Your hand, once so warm, so full of life, squeezed his weakly. You always knew⦠You exhaled shakily. That Iād be bad at keeping promises.
Caleās breath hitched. A harsh, bitter laugh escaped him, devoid of any humor. āAnd yet, I believed you.ā
You had promised him you wouldnāt die.
That youād stay by his side.
That no matter what war, what enemy, what curse, youād find a way to survive.
You lied, he murmured, his voice barely audible.
You coughed, blood trailing from the corner of your lips, and he wiped it away with his thumb, his other hand still gripping yours like a lifeline.
He should be used to this. Death. Loss. The ache of watching something slip through his fingers despite all his efforts.
You, who had always stayed by his side. Who had always seen through his excuses, his indifference, his walls. Who had called him out when he was reckless, who had laughed when he complained about wanting a slacker life but still shouldered the burdens of an entire kingdom.
You, who made him feel something more than duty, something deeper than responsibility.
He had never said it. The words had always lingered on the edge of his tongue, buried under his carefully constructed walls. Because loveāhe doesn't deserve it everyone he loves dies now it's you but he still hope if he eventually said those three words...
And now, it was too late.
A shaky breath left you. Cale⦠Iām gladā¦
Shut up, he snapped, voice raw, but his grip tightened. āDonāt talk like youāre dying. Youāre notā
Your fingers trembled in his hold. You were losing strength.
Caleās breath hitched. A pit opened in his stomach, a dark void swallowing everything whole.
The potions. The priest. Someoneāanyone.
Even with healing, some wounds couldnāt be undone.
The realization settled like ice in his veins.
His lips parted, but no sound came out.
You smiledāsoft, tired, fond.
The battlefield, the distant sounds of fighting, the shouts of his alliesāit all faded into white noise.
His hand remained around yours, unmoving. Unwilling.
A hollow breath left him. His throat burned. His vision blurred, not from exhaustion, not from pain, but from something he had long denied himself the right to feel.
A weight, suffocating and unbearable, settled in his chest.
He didnāt move. Didnāt scream.
And yet, he still held your hand as if you werenāt.
Because letting go meant acknowledging it.
And Cale Henituse⦠wasnāt ready.
For the first time, he didnāt know if he ever would be.
..Damn it. His voice cracked, barely above a whisper. Damn it, damn itā
He couldn't even finish the sentence.
His body shook, though he didn't sob. Cale Henituse didnāt cry.
But if anyone had seen him at that moment, with his head bowed, his fingers trembling, and his expression twisted into something so utterly rawāperhaps they would have said he looked just as broken as a man who had lost everything.