Page 131 of Forged in Fading

A long time.

“I was.” These past few months in the human lands, the months in Ilmanir before that, she felt more purpose in her life than she had in years. And she threw it all away. “I took the blood oath. And yet I still wasn’t able to control my anger, my grief, not even for the good of an entire town. All of these innocent people.” Her thoughts started to muddy, her words harder to form as the mead sank into her bones.

“You’re right.” Pyry wasn’t one to soften blows, and this was no exception. “But you did good things too.”

If she had, she couldn’t think of any. Not now.

“You took the oath. You gave the refugees safety. You helped them with their magic, forged them weapons, taught them to fight⁠—”

She cut off his words with the wave of a hand in his face, her skin too warm and mind too slow to bother coming up with a retort.

“We could go home, if you wanted to. I would go with you. It’s the least I owe you.”

Going home wouldn’t solve anything, he knew that as well as she did. And was it really home anymore? Even Pyry had found his place here, learning the language, working alongside Oda, who would be heartbroken if he left.

His voice softened in a way it so rarely did. “This is your sister’s fight, Alva. Not yours. Maybe this is for the best. Not much good has happened since we tried integrating with the humans.”

But all she could think about was Boden, a blend of both races, and he was good. More than good—the best person she had ever known. Everything she wasn’t. And going back to Vorianta, cocooning herself in the dark void of her former life…

“No.” She staggered to her feet, taking a moment to steady herself on Pyry’s shoulder.

The past was just that—the past. It would always be there as a reminder of where she had been and where she had come from, but it was never meant to be something carried into the future, a burden so heavy she could carry nothing else. She wanted to leave it behind and replace it with late night walks through the town, with a demi-elf who had done everything for her, even when she hadn’t been someone worth saving.

“I have to go.” The words tasted strange on her tongue. Oh gods, she should not have drunk so much.

Alvara focused on putting one foot in front of the other, even when they felt like they had disappeared from underneath her. Did she have legs? She did, right?

It felt like someone had lit her body on fire as she lurched toward the sleeping halls, the town blurring in her periphery. If he wasn’t there…no, he had to be.

The entrance now only stood a few paces away, but it might as well have been a thousand. She squinted her eyes and took a step, only to careen directly into the wooden door with a thud. Curses rang out inside the hall, followed by the creak of hinges.

“Oh, someone please light me on fire and burn me to ashes,” Kat muttered and lugged Alvara to her feet. “Now’s not a good time⁠—”

“Out. I can smell the alcohol on you, even from here.”

Alvara stretched to the tips of her toes and peered over Kat’s shoulder. Next to Rav sat Boden, spinning the knife she had given him in rigid circles.

He didn’t even look up. “I have no interest in speaking to you while you’re drunk. Out.”

Kat swallowed and shifted on her feet, blocking Alvara’s view of Boden. “I think you need to leave.”

The mead sloshing in Alvara’s insides dissolved into an outpouring of tears. Of anyone, Kat would listen. She had to. “Please⁠—”

“No.” Kat squeezed her eyes shut and inhaled a long breath. “I thought you had changed, Alvara. Worked through this. It was one thing to lose control right after your father faded, especially when nothing else was at stake. I forgave you for that, I truly did. But now? We need—I need time. Time away from you.”

She slammed the door shut, leaving Alvara blubbering with only one place to go.

The forge.

Chapter Forty-Five

Liquid dripped onto Alvara’s face, and something cold and moist nudged her cheek. Vigi. He hadn’t left her side all night, even when the blacksmith had left for home, though the dog’s breath might just be the thing to push her stomach over the edge.

She flapped her hand in his nauseatingly joyful face and stretched her muscles, sore from sleeping on the hard ground. Thanks to Oda’s convincing and Pyry’s support, the young woman’s father had agreed to let Alvara stay the night instead of throwing her out into the street.

Though none of it mattered—her throbbing head, the dizziness. Not when she needed to fix everything she had broken.

And she knew where she needed to start.