A Blade Between Us

The pyres burned in the night, casting flickering shadows over the ruined city. Ash drifted like snow, settling on the shattered cobblestones, the last remnants of a kingdom that had once stood untouchable. The battle was over, but the war inside Dorian raged on.

Before him knelt the girl he had spent years hunting.

Selene, the last of the Ravaryn bloodline, the girl who had haunted his nightmares and invaded his every waking thought. She was supposed to be his greatest enemy. The one obstacle standing between his people and their long-awaited freedom. He had sworn an oath to put an end to her. And yet...

She looked up at him, her storm-gray eyes shining with defiance despite the dried blood on her temple. Even now, even after everything, she was still fighting him in the only way left to her—by refusing to break.

"Do it," she whispered. "End this. It's what you want, isn't it?"

No. No, it wasn’t. Not anymore.

Dorian’s grip on his sword tightened. He had spent years chasing her, driven by hatred that had been drilled into him since childhood. The Ravaryn bloodline had been responsible for the suffering of his people for generations. Selene was the last remnant of that tyranny. Her death was supposed to be his victory. The moment that would finally make him whole.

Then why did he feel so hollow?

He had told himself that her death would mean justice. That it would bring peace. But peace had already come—at least on the battlefield. His people had won. The Ravaryn kingdom had fallen, its banners torn down, its soldiers scattered or slain. The fight was over.

Except for this. Except for her.

His sword hovered just above her throat. It would be so easy. One final stroke. One breath. And yet he hesitated, as he had hesitated a dozen times before, in the brief moments when their paths had crossed, in the times they had fought and parted, always drawn back together by forces neither of them understood.

Selene must have seen the war in his eyes because her expression softened. "You don’t have to do this," she murmured, so quiet that only he could hear. "We could change this. Together."

Memories surged, unbidden and unwanted.

The first time he had cornered her in the forests outside the Ravaryn capital, expecting an easy kill, only to find himself outmatched by her speed, her cunning.

The uneasy truces they had made in the past, the moments where they had been forced to rely on each other to survive.

The night she had saved his life when she could have let him die.

The moment he had first seen her not as an enemy, but as something more.

He had spent years convincing himself that she was nothing more than a threat to be eradicated, but now, standing over her with a blade poised to strike, he realized the truth.

Destroying her wouldn’t just mean destroying an enemy.

It would mean destroying the one thing he had come to love.

A slow breath. A single choice.

Dorian let the sword fall from his fingers.

The clang echoed through the ruins, but before Selene could react, he reached for the dagger at his belt. A sharp inhale, a heartbeat’s hesitation—and then he drove it into his own chest.

Pain seared through him, but there was relief too. He had spent his whole life fighting, killing, destroying. He would not take her life. He refused.

Selene lunged forward, catching him as he collapsed. Her hands pressed against the wound, but the damage was already done. "No," she breathed, shaking her head. "Dorian, why—why would you—"

A ghost of a smile touched his lips. "Because I couldn't choose between you and them. So I chose neither."

Tears streaked down her face as she clutched him closer. "You fool."

His vision blurred, his world narrowing to nothing but the warmth of her arms. "Live, Selene. That’s... all I ask. Live."

The last thing he saw was her face, her storm-gray eyes filled with grief, and then—

Darkness took him.

Selene sat in the ruins long after he had gone.

His blood stained her hands, his body cold against hers, but she couldn’t bring herself to let go. It wasn’t supposed to end like this. Not like this.

Dorian had been her enemy. Her greatest threat. But he had also been her only equal, the only one who had ever truly seen her, not as a queen or a weapon, but as a person. And now he was gone.

She pressed a trembling hand against his chest, over the wound that had stolen his life. She could still feel the warmth fading from him, could still hear his last words echoing in her mind. Live.

But what did living mean without him?

Her people were gone. His people would never accept her. She had nothing left but the ghost of a war that had stolen everything from both of them. And yet... he had chosen her. Even in death, he had chosen her.

She closed her eyes, breathing in the scent of ash and smoke and blood. Then, with one last, shuddering breath, she whispered, "I’ll live. For you."

As dawn broke over the ruined city, Selene rose, leaving behind the only man she had ever loved.

She wandered through the wreckage of what had once been her home, her fingers trailing along crumbling walls and burnt banners. The silence was deafening. It was a kingdom of ghosts now, and she was the last one left standing.

For days, she walked. Through forests that had once been Ravaryn hunting grounds, across rivers where she had once bathed as a child. Every step was a reminder of what she had lost. Of what he had lost. And yet, she could not stop.

Dorian had given her a choice where no one else had. He had granted her freedom, even as he had taken his own. And she would not let his sacrifice be in vain.

She reached the northern border weeks later, beyond the lands that had once belonged to Ravaryn and into the mountains where the war had not yet touched. There, she found a small village, hidden away from the world. They did not know who she was. They did not ask. They only saw a girl with haunted eyes and bloodstained hands, and they took her in.

Selene did not speak of Dorian. She did not speak of the war. She let herself fade into obscurity, just another soul lost in the wreckage of a world that had been torn apart by power and pride. But at night, she would whisper his name into the dark, a prayer to a man who had chosen love over vengeance.

And every morning, she would wake, breathe, and take another step forward.

Because he had asked her to live.

And so she would.