Of War and Ruin (The Bound and the Broken, #3)

by Ryan Cahill

“Pain is the path to strength, Arden,” Ruon whispered, resting her hand on Arden’s shoulder, urging him to keep walking. “We fight for Achyron to protect the ones we love. That doesn’t make it easy.”

“What is done is done, apprentice. We cannot change the past, only move forward with its lessons.”

Her eyes felt as though they were only moments away from shedding an ocean of tears, but not a drop fell. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to cry; it was more like she couldn’t. There weren’t enough tears in all the world to come close to the anguish that filled her bones.

The truth was that it didn’t matter in which direction they pushed. With thousands of Uraks still in front of them, and another five thousand attacking from the rear, death would find them this day, and he would welcome it. He would charge willingly into death’s embrace if it meant he could feel the touch of Shinyara’s mind once more.

In the glaring light of the mid-day sun, four enormous shadows swept over the Kolmir Mountains, wings spread wide, and Farda’s heart tightened at what, to him, was the most beautiful sight in the known world – dragons.

He trusted Helios, though to use the word trust felt wrong, for it didn’t come close to the unwavering faith he held in his soulkin. They were not two. They were one. A single soul shared. Helios would betray Eltoar as much as the sun would betray its own light.

“I will not put another of our kind in the ground. I will not tear another soul in half. Not on the word of that monster you call a friend. That demon you brand an emperor.”

“This world chews us up and spits us out. It doesn’t care if we live or die. It doesn’t care who we love or who we hate. It is filled with misery, death, and loss. It cares little for us. But that is precisely why we must care with all our hearts, fight for the ones we love, and stand for what we believe in. Because in a world where nothing matters, what matters to us means everything. If we forget about the ones we love, everything loses meaning.”

“You don’t have that control, Calen. If we die, we die. The beauty of life is in the living of it.”

“The only thing within our control is what we choose to do with the short time we have – the things we fight for, the people we love, the things we hold dear.”

“I wish I could tell you it gets easier. It doesn’t. Six-hundred-and-forty-eight years have passed since that day. The pain hasn’t lessened. It simply visits me less frequently.”

‘The past is the tapestry from which we learn the steps we should not take,’ Verathin had said. ‘Study it, learn from it, know it. Then and only then can we hope to avoid repeating the mistakes of those who came before us. Ignore it and doom yourself to being the story the next generation learns from.’

“I am done mourning. By Achyron and Neron, by blade and by blood, House Deringal will follow you, Alina Ateres. Freedom or a funeral pyre, I won’t stop until I have one of them.”

“Do you even care what he’s been through? He watched them kill your parents. They made him watch as they burned the people of Stormwatch alive. He left to save your life. And he has spent twelve years dragging himself back here. Have you seen the way he looks at his hands when he thinks nobody is watching? Like they’re covered in blood. Dying for someone is easy. Killing for someone is far harder. And Dayne would do both for you without a thought.”

“I don’t think losing the ones you love ever gets easier. It is the only pain your body truly remembers. When you think back on a broken leg, you do not weep from the agony. But when you remember you will never look upon your father’s face again, it cuts as fresh as the first day. What does get easier is carrying on. The weights on our shoulders rarely get lighter, but we can get stronger.”

To live forever was a notion chased by many dreamers, but it was, in many ways, a poisoned chalice. Life had meaning because it had an end. Without the end, each day was just a blur in a vast ocean.

The one thing he had not anticipated about happiness was that once he had it, he would be terrified of ever losing it. Maybe that was his penance for leaving: to never truly know the meaning of peace.

They do not know death like I do. When they wash their hands, the water still runs clear.

I am sorry for what happened to your family. My heart bleeds with yours, just as my parents dine in Achyron’s halls beside yours. When you recover, if you choose to follow me, I will give you the chance to carve your vengeance from Lorian flesh. I promise you. But if you ever disrespect my House again, and in turn my sister, I will bleed you slow. I will strip the flesh from your bones and hang you from the Skytower for the birds to feast on. Nod if you understand.”

But more than anything else, he remembered how they would stay awake until the early hours just talking. He would have listened to the sweet sound of her voice until the rivers dried, mountains crumbled, and the wheels of time stopped turning.

“Your first attempt was horribly poor,” he repeated. “Your second was less so. Among my kind we hold our failures close, so as to learn from them. We take pride in them because failing means you tried. You can only ever succeed if you allow yourself to fail.”

“Death is the only thing we are assured of in life. It’s not how we die that matters, it’s how we live.”

Gaeleron nodded weakly, as though Calen’s words had barely even touched his ears. “I didn’t break…” The elf shook his head. “I didn’t break.”

‘My people believe that what is grown in the womb is simply a vessel. It is our gift to the soul that will one day become our child. When our children are born still, we believe the soul has chosen to wait for a different vessel, one that aligns with their hearts. In some cases, we cannot build the vessels our children need. But that does not mean there is not a soul out there that needs our love. It is said that life is a gift from the gods, but love is what gives life meaning.’

“There is always hope, my friend. And it is towards hope we will stride, come of it what may.”

He'd found grief to be a strange creature. It wasn’t all-consuming and unyielding. It came in flashes and waves, as though Calen’s mind only periodically remembered he would never again hear his mother’s voice. He would give almost anything just to see her one more time, just to have her force a mug of Arlen Root tea into his hands.

‘The power of words is in the choosing of them, my son. Not just in the choosing of which words to speak, but in choosing when not to speak at all. The man who speaks rarely but wisely is heeded far more often than the man who can’t hold his tongue.’

Helios answered with a thunderous roar before crashing into the golden dragon with the force of a falling mountain. His strength burned in Eltoar’s veins, and Eltoar pushed their minds even deeper together, rage and fury flooding every corner of their soul. They were fire and fury. They were death and deliverance.

“Dragonbound by fire, Broken by death. Here we wait. Here we rest. Until we are called to make whole what is half.”

Mastery is not something you achieve based on the speed at which you improve, but due to your ability to persevere in the face of failure. It is repetition, dedication, and consistency.