Chapter 35: Chosen ones
The night was finally over.
The last of the fiends had been killed, their bodies turning to ash as the first pale light of dawn crept over the mountains.
The sun had not yet risen, but the sky was no longer black. It was the grey color of old bones, and it matched the mood of the survivors.
In the village square, Lady Valara moved among the wounded with gentle hands. Her dress was torn and stained with blood, but she did not care.
"You’ll be well," she told Old Marcus, whose arm had been broken by a fiend’s claw. The golden light flowed into him, and the bone knitted back together.
"Rest now."
Around the square, the survivors were sorting the dead from the living. Too many bodies lay still in the growing light.
The wedding feast had become a funeral.
All of them have gathered; Rena went to her mother and hugged her. Valara healed Natina and Ryanna. Neither of them spoke of what happened in the cellar.
The events of this whole night felt too surreal for them.
Right then,
Jaenor walked slowly into the square, carrying his father’s body in his arms. Garrick felt so light, as if death had taken more than just his life.