Page 46 of The Last Dragon

He understood before they touched.

When Tariel’s hand closed around his, he gently squeezed back.

One’s distress resonated in the other. Cassian remembered all too well the collapse of a world—his world. His people, slaughtered. The promised peace that had never come.

Cassian lay down on his side, his voice a hoarse whisper. “I can’t wait to see you at full strength once you’ve rested.”

His hand slid through the elf’s long white hair, brushing the strands aside. Minutes passed, and his thoughts drifted back to Drakensyl, to the Malveth, to the impossible choices.

What was he to do with this elf? With this mage whose heart was so rare, so important, whose laughter was so crystal-clear, and whose spirit was so fiery?

Rip out his heart? Tie him up? Kill him?

None of these options seemed right, and Cassian knew it.

His chest tightened. What a cruel fate, he thought bitterly. For his people to finally awaken from their slumber of ashes, Tariel had to be the fuel.

Cassian let his thumb brush the elf’s temple, where life pulsed. The price of a race’s resurrection was the sacrifice of this bond, and every beat of the elf’s heart echoed like a countdown.

He didn’t immediately feel Tariel turn toward him. It was the pressure of a hand against his side that made him half-open an eye in the darkness. Moving on instinct, Cassian pulled him a little closer, sharing his warmth with his companion.

“If my nakedness bothers you, you only have yourself to blame,” he murmured with a subtle smile, light words spoken to ease the heaviness of the moment. His hand slid down the elf’s back, caressing, comforting. Cassian felt Tariel stiffen for a moment, probably surprised by the firmness of the body he had just pressed against.

He could almost sense the young mage’s bewilderment at the strength he was still displaying despite his exhaustion, but the elf offered no resistance. To Cassian’s surprise, Tariel eventually let himself sink against his bare skin, letting out a faint, suspiciously wet laugh that died away against the mercenary’s shoulder as he slipped an arm over his chest to embrace him.

“If your nakedness were unwelcome, I would have brought you more clothing than was necessary to cover all of that skin,” Tariel replied in a hushed voice.

“Yet my nakedness didn’t bother you at the lake.”

Cassian gave a teasing smile, pulling him a little closer. He felt the elf relax, his muscles letting go one by one. He sensed that his teasing acted as a balm, a necessary distraction to forget—if only for a second—the abyss that had just opened up beneath their feet.

“Like any self-respecting elf, I know how to appreciate the finer things,” Tariel whispered.

The laughter faded gently. Cassian felt the elf’s heart beating against him, still too fast, still too heavy. The moment of lightheartedness had already passed.

Despite the warmth of the embrace, Tariel remained a bit tense, nestled against him as if the mercenary were the only defense against his own torments. Silence returned, broken only by the distant crackling of the fire.

Cassian’s smile lost its radiance until it faded into a sigh. Tariel remained quiet; his silence was a testament to his distress.

“If you feel like crying, go ahead. If you want to stay silent or talk to me, you can also go ahead. If you just want to rest… I’ll respect your choice, Tariel.”

He rested his cheek on top of his head, staring quietly at his white locks. In the dim light, their two hearts continued to beat as one.

Tariel

Beneath the teasing, a void remained within Tariel. Deep, overwhelming… He could feel the mercenary’s warmth, but he could also feel his own heart, weighed down by a secret that was no longer a secret—one he hadn’t even been told about.

It all seemed surreal to him: the Elven Crystal Heart within him, that dormant power, his mission… Was his magic truly his own, or was that, too, just a lie? Was it solely the Crystal’s power that allowed him to wield it so well?

His world seemed to be turning upside down, and Tariel felt powerless in the midst of it all. And yet… the mercenary’s embrace kept him grounded. Anchored in the moment. It prevented him from spiraling into a whirlpool of confusion, anger, fear, and despair.

He himself knew nothing about the man he now held in his arms—the man who had saved him, and whom he had saved in return. The man who had transformed his phoenix into a dragon. The man who wielded alchemy, a lost and taboo magic, as naturally as he breathed.

And yet, at that moment, Tariel only had him. Cassian. A mysterious, rough-around-the-edges mercenary with devastating charm that was beginning to chip away at his defenses. Deep down, he knew he couldn’t ignore the alarm bells that had been ringing ever since they met: this man was dangerous. He knew it, he felt it, and he saw it. But he had no one but him… and clinging to Cassian felt horribly like clinging to a truth that remained just out of the elf’s reach.

A long silence stretched out, broken only by the crackling of the last embers, reflecting the younger man’s inner turmoil. Tariel surprised even himself when he finally broke the silence with a quiet, fragile voice. “What terrifies me most is that I don’t know who will deliver the final blow. Will it be the dragon, an enemy I haven’t yet encountered… or will I die by the blade of one of my own?”

He didn’t even know to whom he was speaking these words. They hung in the air like a confession: he was certain he would not emerge alive from this journey.