Page 149 of The Ashborn

Be someone.

Danek rarely dared to dream for himself. Why would he when his life belonged to King Vaerin and River Storm? And then he was ready to give his entire being to Kienna and her cause. He forgot he could steal some life for himself, too. He wanted that. To have his own dream.

Chapter 59

—Kienna—

Kienna fell behind the group, walking near Danek, their hands brushing gently as they went. Ruva kept near, pushing Broan away. The Viking grunted and took his own path.

“We’re here.” Connak’s eyes glowed brightly as they entered the Lost Elvish City. “This is M’Ran.”

Nestled against the towering embrace of the green mountains, the ruins of M’Ran were a beautifully haunting testament to the war that shattered its people. The intricate stone archways crumbled. Great Halls were overtaken by the creeping embrace of nature. Vibrant foliage draped over the remnants of its past, while crystal-clear streams trickled through the ruins, whispering the echoes of a once-glorious civilization.

Though M’Ran lacked the raw elemental magic of Trinity, there was an undeniable glow that lingered. It was a place frozen in time, untouched by the ever-moving and expanding world around them. Connak called this place home, looked at it with a somber fondness, but no home remained. The people of M’Ran, the warriors who stood on the front lines of the great war, were wiped from existence, leaving behind only phantoms of memory.

“It’s a fucking ghost town,” Broan admitted.

A bright ray of sun poked through the mountains and trees, shedding light on the sparkling stream as the group walked through the giant trees. Kienna dipped her hand into the cool water, compelled to take a drink. The soft, rushing torrent tickled her fingers.

Ruva leaned forward and licked the water, droplets falling from her mouth. She lay next to the brook. A breeze carried the smell of lavender and ivy. Patches of purple flowers grew in the corners of the brick walkways.

Nature was the true victor in the war that destroyed M’Ran.

Connak rubbed the back of his neck. “There’s not much left. I’d love to rebuild someday.”

“This is the kind of world I envisioned.” Kienna squeezed his shoulder, a solemn rush passing between them. “Can we explore?”

“Of course.”

I’m staying put. Ruva rested her head between her paws and closed her eyes.

Still so domesticated.

I must be when I’m tethered to such a wild thing.

Kienna smiled and wandered up a set of stairs through perfectly standing arches. She followed the path of the stream through the city, stepping carefully over branches and vines. Her fingers laced through the ivy encompassing the walls, the weight of history meeting her grasp.

The spark of Danek’s presence trailed her.

“This was your home.” She said it softly, turning her head to peek at him.

Danek nodded. “It would appear so.”

Kienna reached for his hand. He looked impossibly far away, his jaw clenched. “Do you think about it? What your life could have been like here?”

He exhaled. “This is the kind of place that would have been worth having a family in.”

Silence crept between them. It was encouraging that Danek was on the same wavelength as her. She’d never allowed herself to think about family, certainly not one she could make.

The wind carried the ghost of lost voices, echoes of laughter and life that once thrived. Life returned to Danek as he faced her. “When this is over, I want to be the person to remember it all. Remember the ones we lose and make sure no one forgets why we fought.” He fixated on the rubble of the ancient city.

Danek the Storyholder.

Kienna tightened her fingers around his. He traced the beads of her rings, then pulled her hand to his lips and kissed each one. Chills ran through her body. Kienna brushed his chin, clinging to the stubble on his jaw. “I think that is a worthy future. It suits you.”

“Maybe one day, I’ll have others to tell our story to.”

Children would have sent her running in River Storm. Children with Danek was a peaceful idea. She smiled. “One day.”