Page 204 of Of Iron and Moonlight

Sometime that afternoon, they crested a low hill overlooking a broad valley. The army wound through it like a metallic river. Just beyond the surrounding fields, hard and colorless under a winter sky the shade of ash, lay a sprawl of low, dust-hued buildings. Thin ribbons of smoke lifted from their crooked chimneys.

Gavriel saw it and stopped as if the earth itself had caught hold of him. Then he let out a sound that might have been a laugh, though it carried little humor. It was pulled more from a wound than a throat.

Njall glanced at him, puzzled. “What is it?”

“An untidy twist of the moons,” Gavriel replied.

Njall gave him a look.

“Netherfen Hallows,” Gavriel said, sweeping an arm toward the town. “Where my story ended.” Then, more quietly, “In truth, I hoped never to lay eyes on it again.”

Kalaetzu caught up and looked out over the land. Wonder eased the usual tension from his features. “Six centuries I have walked this world,” he murmured, “yet never did I imagine I would behold the human territories with my own eyes.”

“We’ve reached the Empire already?” Elara asked quietly as she joined them, drawing her cloak closer, though the eastern Oraith winter held little bite compared to the Norrelian tundra they had endured for months.

Gavriel nodded, feeling the slightest panic tick. “Kryovarre lies not far northeast.”

Njall’s expression became unreadable. “Kalaetzu and I should not go farther.”

“He is right,” Kalaetzu added, sadness in it. “The terrain is open here and we should not risk being seen. This is may be where our road together ends.”

Gavriel’s shoulders stiffened. The movement was small. The feeling behind it was not. “I suppose we all knew,” he said slowly, looking at each of them, “that we were only postponing the moment when we must decide what comes next.”

He looked down toward the place he had once called home. His thoughts searched for what he was meant to do there, but no clear path formed. He did not belong among the fae. Yet he did not feel he had ever entirely belonged here either.

Kalaetzu watched him with patient compassion, as if reading his thoughts. “This is not where your story ended,” he said gently. “It can be a beginning. If you so choose.”

“That is the challenge.” Gavriel smiled weakly. “I don’t know what to choose.”

“We’ll continue,” Elara said unexpectedly. Unnervingly steady. “Gavriel and I can follow the army deeper into the Empire and keep disrupting the oraivane supply.”

“We certainly can,” Gavriel agreed.

Njall turned away fully, hiding his expression.

Silence gathered again. The four of them stood watching the endless procession of human soldiers continue its march, a procession entirely unaware of the sorrow settling over the ridge above.

Gavriel exhaled eventually, then turned to his companions. “Best not to prolong it.”

He extended his arm. Njall clasped it. The contact sent a wave of nausea through Gavriel, but he ignored it. They had survived blades and mistakes side by side, and he needed the moment more. He needed the proper farewell more. “Thank you,” he said. “For being a friend. For forgiving me. I’ll never forget it.”

Njall swallowed once and nodded, violet eyes still slightly averted.

Gavriel turned next to Kalaetzu, inclining his head with reverence. “Thank you. For helping them save me. For tending my wounds when you owed a stranger nothing.”

Kalaetzu bowed in return. “Kindness is never wasted,” he said softly. “It travels farther than we expect and returns in ways we cannot foresee—”

Before he could finish, Elara wrapped her arms around the old Tsuchitsan, holding him with fierce affection. “I’ll miss you,” she whispered, pressing her face into his shoulder.

“And I you.” Kalaetzu smiled. “Do not let that quick mind of yours fall silent. It will carry you places your feet have not yet imagined, and the world will be better for it.”

Elara made a small, wounded sound and stepped back. She wiped her sleeve across her face and turned toward Njall. Every line of his frame was drawn tight.

“Goodbye, Njall,” she said, gentle but without the softness of absolution.

“Goodbye, Elara,” he replied, as though he had to force it from his chest.

She turned to Gavriel and gave a firm nod. “Let’s go.”