The Fire Between Us

“Sometimes all you can do is keep the fire burning—for them, for you, for whatever comes next.”

When Chris returned, he brought a fresh fire torch and dry clothes for me, a small act of kindness that touched my heart more than I expected. His timing, his quiet understanding—it reminded me of the steadiness we still had in each other. I nodded my thanks, too drained for words, and accepted the bundle with stiff, trembling fingers.

I planted the new torch firmly in the ground, the tip flaring to life with a low hiss, its orange flame casting long, swaying shadows across the riverbank. Quickly, I changed into the dry clothes, the feel of fabric against my cold, damp skin a modest relief, like a bandage pressed to a wound too deep to truly reach. The soft scrape of cloth against my skin was oddly grounding, something familiar in a night that felt increasingly unmoored from reality.

Then I lowered myself to the ground, the dust clinging to the backs of my thighs and the hems of my trousers. Not far from Jamie, I settled into a silent watch, legs tucked beneath me, hands wrapped around my knees. The flickering flames danced beside us, a trembling ribbon of gold and amber that tried its best to push back the suffocating dark. But it was barely enough—a fragile bubble of light in a world that felt infinite and unknowable beyond its glow.

Jamie hadn’t moved. His silhouette was carved from stillness, a man frozen in the moment his world cracked open. Duke’s body rested gently in his arms. I could see it now, curled protectively in his lap, one last echo of the bond they’d shared. The torchlight caught the edges of Jamie’s face—his eyes wide and hollow, his jaw clenched, unmoving. Grief had transformed him into a monument.

Sitting there, watching him and the slow, glimmering motion of the river’s surface, I felt something shift inside me—an aching clarity. We were all exposed here in Clivilius, stripped of pretence, of the protective scaffolding that Earth had afforded us. Titles meant nothing. Histories were blank slates. What remained was this: shared pain, stubborn hope, and the fragile yet unbreakable thread of human connection.

In the face of the unknown dangers that curled and prowled just beyond our sight, we were bound to each other. Not just by necessity, but by a silent, sacred promise. We would watch over one another. We would carry the weight when the other faltered. We would endure—together.

That promise had been forged in whispers and glances until now. Tonight, it had been sealed in blood, and tears.