The Weight We Carry

29th of Stormfall, 985 A.D.

The swamp pressed close around them, thick with mist and the sickly stench of rot. Maeve moved slowly, her boots sinking into the blackened water with each step. The cold bit deeper into her joints than it once would have. She pressed a hand briefly to her side, feeling the dull ache beneath the layers of her coat - a constant reminder that she was not twenty anymore. Neither was Asger.

The goliath walked beside her, heavier now, his broad shoulders bowed slightly under the weight of years. His skin, once nearly unblemished, was now a map of scars from old battles and past fights. Toad, behind them, was the outlier, seemingly untouched by time. Years spent holding the Weave together had preserved her, untouched by the decades that weighed on Maeve and Asger.

For years, Maeve had been searching for Adren. Following scattered rumors, chasing trails of burnt men. And now, finally, she had found his shack, hidden in the heart of a swamp where none came. And she hadn’t come alone. She had found Asger and Toad, pulled them away from their hard-won duties, and asked - no, begged - them to come with her. To try one last time. To try to bring him home. And Adren…

Maeve’s heart twisted painfully at the thought of him. Adren would look nearly the same. Elves bore time differently, and for all the years that had battered her and Asger, Adren would still wear the face of the boy who once laughed with them around campfires, who once fought not for vengeance but for hope. But the man waiting for them now was no boy. He was something else. Something broken.

They found the shack where the swamp was most silent. It leaned on its stilts like it was too tired to stand, the sagging roof stitched with rusted nails and rotting rope. Old wards flickered weakly around the entrance, a last gasp of fading magic. Maeve took a deep breath, and then touched the door. It swung open without resistance. Inside, Adren waited.

He sat slumped over a battered table, his silhouette barely lit by the coals of a dying fire. Around him lay scattered books, each covered in dense, scrawling names. Lists and ledgers of his judgment. For a breathless moment, Maeve thought he looked almost the same as he once had. Time had not stolen his youth like it had hers.

“You found me,” Adren said. His voice was little more than smoke.

Maeve stepped in first, Toad following close, Asger last, looming and tense.

“We had to,” Maeve said softly. “It’s time to come home.”

Adren gave a harsh, rasping laugh. He lifted his head to finally turn towards them, and Maeve couldn’t help but gasp as she truly saw him. The fire had eaten him. His hands were blackened at the fingertips, charred like dying embers. Scars marred his face - jagged burns coiling from his brow, wrapping around his eyes where no healing had come. His eyes themselves were the worst of it - their old light had left them, leaving them hollow, scorched, dead.

Maeve’s heart twisted painfully. This wasn’t the boy she had once fought beside. This wasn’t even the man he could have been. This was what was left. He didn’t rise. He didn’t even reach for the blade resting within arm’s reach.

“Home?” he echoed. “You mean prison. Chains.” His fingers twitched against the tabletop. “You waited so long to come fetch me. Was I that easy to forget? What was the final thing that did it? How long did it take you to decide my time has come?”

“You made yourself a grave, Adren,” Asger said, voice low and cold. “We’re just here to put you in it properly.”

Adren’s gaze turned to Asger. He looked almost offended at Asger’s response before producing a sound in between a hacking cough and a giggle.

“Pretty words, all those pretty promises. And when the world finally broke me, none of you were there to pick up the pieces - and now you’re just here to bury it.”

“I reached out,” Asger growled, stepping forward. “When this all started - when you still had a chance. I told you that you could come to me. We would have helped you.”

Adren’s face twisted. “You think- you think I didn’t think about it? But then what would that have made me? A coward that ran, that hid, while pieces of that devil still walked the earth, torching and burning everything we wanted to protect.” His voice cracked into a half-shout. “And you left. You got your home, your family, your… peace, and now you come here and dare to look down on me like I chose this?”

“You chose every step that led here,” Asger snarled. “Not me.”

“And where were you?” Adren shouted, turning now to Toad. “You were supposed to be the one who saw everything. But you didn’t see me.”

For a moment, Toad said nothing. Then, quietly, and filled with grief.

“I see you now.”

The words hung heavy in the air, and just for a moment, Adren faltered. Maeve saw his mouth open slightly, as if to say something, but then the fury rushed back. He tore his gaze from Toad, and snapped his head directly towards Maeve.

“And you-” he rasped, the accusation bleeding out of him now, too raw to hold back. “You were supposed to understand. Out of everyone - you. You were the only one who ever could. But you didn’t. You stopped looking. You let me turn into this and you stopped looking.__”

Maeve took a slow step closer, arms spread slightly in a calming gesture.

“I got sick,” she said, her voice thick with sadness. “I couldn’t-”

“You didn’t try!” Adren snapped, slamming a hand down onto the table. “None of you tried! Out of all of you, only Petir came. Only he thought I was worth saving.”

“Because we couldn’t. Not then,” Toad said. “Our lives were pulling us in other directions.”

“And you think that makes it better?” Adren spat, his whole body trembling now. “You think your lives are worth more than mine?”

“No,” Maeve said gently. “We think you are worth saving, Adren. That’s why we’re here.”

“Too late!” Adren’s voice hitched, almost a sob. He shoved the book from the table, scattering old pages across the floor. Adren’s voice cracked through the room -
“You abandoned me! You let me rot! You let me become this - and now you come to throw me into the dark and forget me again?”

Maeve’s heart broke at the rawness in his voice. She took a small step forward, hands half-lifted in pleading as Toad spoke up again.

“This isn’t the man we knew back then,” Toad said. Her voice was low, calm. “But the Adren we knew is still in there. We haven’t forgotten him.”

Adren’s head snapped toward her. For a moment, his expression softened, before hardening back up.

“I didn’t know myself back then,” he said, voice rough with anger. “And you didn’t either. You never did.”

The words hit like a slap. Toad flinched and fell silent. Maeve could see it happening - the cliff edge approaching. And so, she pushed harder.

“Adren, please. We’re not here to destroy you,” she said, voice trembling. “We’re here to help you.”

And as she spoke, she reached deep into herself and subtly wove an enchantment into her words. The spell brushed against Adren’s mind.

The moment it brushed against him, Adren froze. Maeve saw his eyes widen. Not in fear - in betrayal. The same look she had seen once before. Her breath immediately caught as panic rose in her chest.

“No,” Adren whispered, voice hoarse. “No, you tried to rip the truth from my head once - not again ”

Adren staggered back. His movements were jerky and wild, like a cornered animal in its final, hopeless moment. Maeve saw it happen - saw the memory slam into him - but she was already moving, already reaching out as if a touch could make it right.

“You lied,” Adren choked out. His hand spasmed at his side - and magic leapt to answer. A blade of searing flame burst into being in his hand, wild and instinctive. And Maeve, stepping closer, was already within its reach.

The blade materialized straight through her. There was no swing. No aim. Just an eruption of fire through her. Maeve gasped. The heat tore through her side, and the pain came crashing down like a wave. She stumbled back, clutching the wound, warmth spilling over her fingers in thick, sticky rivers. The world tilted violently, and the swamp shack spun around her. She crumpled to the floor.

Maeve looked up at Adren as her vision blurred. Tears welled in her eyes as the air left her lungs.

“I-” he croaked, voice small, shattering. “Maeve, I didn’t-”

Asger moved before he thought. He saw the blood bloom across Maeve’s robes, saw her crumple, saw Adren’s stunned, shaking hand still reaching out, as if he could undo what he had just done. A roar tore out of him, and he charged. His axe was in his hands, but his vision blurred with tears. Rage and grief tangled together in his gut, choking him, driving him forward. As he swung his axe towards Adren, radiant light started shining from it’s core.

Adren flinched instinctively, staggering to the side. He barely dodged the first swing, breath ragged in his throat. His body moved without thought, his survival instincts overriding the shock in his mind. As he moved, flames started gathering around him, wrapping around his hands and shoulders, distorting the air around him.

Asger swung again. Adren stumbled back once more, slipping away across the rotting floorboards. He was fast, always had been, but not fast enough forever.

Toad turned from Maeve’s side. In her mind, she saw all the paths branching forward from this moment. She saw a dozen paths where Asger missed and Adren slipped away. With a flick of her wrist, she chose another path.

Asger’s next swing didn’t miss.

The axe struck deep into Adren’s shoulder with a sickening crunch. Adren gasped, collapsing to one knee, a cry escaping his mouth - a sound of fear, pain and betrayal all in one.

For a heartbeat, Asger saw the man he once knew, sitting before him wide-eyed and terrified. But then the look of fear in his eyes disappeared, turning into one of pure rage. Adren raised his head to stare directly into Asger’s eyes.

“I would have followed you into the hells themselves once.”

Then the fire wrapping around his hands and shoulders swallowed him, and heat exploded outwards from his broken body. Flames seared through his veins, burning the wound closed in a violent surge as the scent of scorched flesh suddenly filled the shack. Fire lashed out from Adren’s body, catching on the rotten walls, devouring the floor beneath them. And Adren rose in the storm of fire.

He hurled himself at Asger, his fists wreathed in fire, striking with the speed and ferocity of one not yet ready to face his end. Every blow sent sparks flying and every miss scorched the air. The heat vaporized the swampwater and charred the vegetation around them, leaving nothing but blackened muck and trees. Asger fought through it all, divine fury fueling him as the tears in his eyes evaporated.

Adren spun away, pulling the inferno tight around himself before flinging it outward in a column of fire crashing towards Toad.

Toad stood unmoving, and as the fire was about to reach her, she brought up her hands. The spellscars sprawled across her arms lit up in a brilliant, crackling blue, absorbing the magic as it hit her. She caught the roaring magic in her hands, and with a cry, she turned the magic back on Adren, the orange flames of his magic now a prismatic fire. The wave of force slammed into Adren, and he stumbled backwards, dazed.

Before Adren could recover, Toad stepped forward, lifting her hand with a mournful certainty. She whispered a prayer to her now dead goddess, and a curse tore through the air, sinking into Adren’s very being and marking him for the end.

Adren reeled, blinking against the crushing weight in his chest - and Asger charged through the smoke. With a cry that tore from the deepest part of him, Asger raised his axe high. Light burst from its edge, burning brighter than even the flames around them - and when it struck, it struck with more than steel. A blinding wave of radiance exploded outwards, boiling away the mist around them, flashing the swamp water into steam, and the trees that Adren’s flames hadn’t yet reached were stripped bare.

In the aftermath, all color seemed stolen away - leaving only the grey of ash, the black of scorched earth, and the thick mist that swallowed the ruined grounds around them once more.

At the center of it all, Adren crumpled to his knees. The fire that had once wrapped him flickered out, leaving only faint trails of smoke rising from his burned hands. He looked up one last time - not in defiance or rage. Something quieter. Something almost like sorrow.

His body slumped forward, falling onto the scarred ground. This time, he did not rise.

They buried Adren beneath an ancient tree at the edge of the swamp. The earth was heavy with rain, the sky weeping steady tears. Asger dug the grave himself, wordless, his hands raw and bleeding by the end. Toad stood nearby, watching, the mist curling around her ankles. They laid Adren down without ceremony. No prayers. No songs. Only the quiet thud of dirt falling onto their broken friend.

When the grave was filled, Asger carved a single mark into the tree above it - a rough, slashing scar, deep into the bark. A wound that would never heal. Then they turned and left, leaving the swamp to keep Adren’s body, and carrying the weight of his memory back into the world he couldn’t save.