FREE USE in Primitive World

The small banter drifted softly over the quiet stream as the two women helped him finish washing away the final traces of the bloody war.

But as Kira’s hands smoothed over his broad, unblemished back, her movements gradually slowed, her touch lingering longer than necessary over his spine.

The lighthearted air between them began to thin, replaced by a sudden, heavy stillness that even the rushing water could not quite fill.

”Sol...” Kira’s voice was barely more than a whisper, trembling so faintly that it was almost swallowed by the rushing water.

Sol turned his head slightly, noticing that her cloth had stopped moving altogether. When he looked at her face in the moonlight, his smile faded.

Tears were gathering in her eyes, sparkling like liquid silver before trailing down her cheeks.

”Kira?” Sol asked, his raspy voice softening. ”What’s wrong?”

She swallowed hard, her chest heaving as a choked, hiccuping sob escaped her throat.

She tried to wipe her eyes with the back of her wet wrist, but the tears kept coming, breaking through the wall of composure she had held together all evening by sheer force of will.

”I... I was so scared,” Kira whimpered, her hands trembling as she clutched the damp cloth against her knees. ”Not just when Vane hit you... or when the giant stood back up. I was scared... of you.”

Zeyra, who was kneeling on his other side, froze. She didn’t say a word, nor did she attempt to tease Kira or break the tension.

Her sharp, dark eyes simply dropped toward the sparkling river water, her knuckles tightening imperceptibly around her cloth. Her silence spoke louder than any admission... she felt the exact same way.

”When you were standing over Chief Vane...” Kira sobbed, her voice breaking completely as she looked up at his crimson eyes, which were now calm and human once more. ”When you were skinning him... when you killed those men just for speaking... you looked so cold. You looked like... like y-you weren’t Sol anymore.”

She reached out, her hand hovering hesitantly over his chest before gently pressing her palm against his skin, as if checking to see if he was still warm, if his heart was still human.

”It happens so often here in the Great Orrath,” Kira whispered, her tears dripping into the clear stream. ”Warriors who kill too much... they lose their minds. The elders say it’s the lingering resentment of the dead, poisoning the soul of the killer until nothing is left except a bloodthirsty beast that exists only to slaughter. When I saw you smiling like that amid the corpses... I-i was terrified you were gone forever. That the war had turned you into a monster.”

Zeyra let out a quiet, raspy breath, finally raising her head. Though her expression remained guarded, her eyes held a rare, vulnerable shadow of dread. ”She’s right,” Zeyra added softly, her voice unusually subdued. ”The blood-madness has swallowed greater men than us. When a man learns to enjoy the slaughter... he never comes back.”

Sol looked at both of them... at Kira weeping openly beside his shoulder, and at Zeyra, whose tough facade barely hid the deep, lingering terror of losing the man who had just saved their world.

He didn’t offer a dry joke, nor did he scoff or dismiss their fear.

Instead, Sol reached out with both arms. Without a word, he pulled Kira firmly against his left side and wrapped his right arm around Zeyra’s waist, pulling both women close against his warm, bare chest in the middle of the shallow stream.

Kira instantly buried her face into the nook of his neck, her arms wrapping tightly around his torso as her shoulders shook with quiet, violent sobs of absolute relief.

The fear she had carried all evening poured out of her in trembling waves.

Zeyra stiffened for a fraction of a second at the sudden closeness, but she didn’t pull away; instead, she leaned her head lightly against his shoulder, letting out a long, shuddering sigh that released the suffocating tension she had carried all day.

Sol rested his chin lightly over Kira’s hair, feeling the steady beat of their hearts against his ribs.

”I hear you,” Sol whispered raspy, his voice warm, grounded, and deeply human. ”And... you’re not wrong. Looking back on it now... it was indeed a bit too much.”

He paused, feeling Kira’s grip tighten slightly against his back.

”I can’t promise you that I’ll never kill again,” Sol continued calmly, his eyes looking up at the silver moon reflecting on the water. ”In a place like this, whether I draw my blade usually depends on the choices others make, not me. If someone threatens me, if someone tries to harm either of you...those close to me... I will raise my blade without hesitation and cut them down .”

He tightened his arms around both of them.

”But... I can promise that I won’t let the blood consume me. I won’t lose myself to the noise of the dead, and I won’t become a mindless beast. I’ll keep what you said in mind... and I’ll be much more careful with my own soul from now on. I promise.”

Kira let out a long, trembling breath against his neck, the knot of terror in her stomach finally dissolving completely into the soothing warmth of his skin. ”Okay...” she hiccuped softly, hugging him tighter. ”Okay...”

Zeyra closed her eyes, a faint, genuine smile touching her lips in the moonlight as she rested against his side. ”You better keep that promise,” she murmured softly. ”Because if you ever do turn into a mindless monster... I’m not going to be the one tasked with putting you down.”

Sol let out a soft, raspy laugh that vibrated comfortably in his chest, holding them both tight as the crystal stream carried away the last lingering remnants of the day’s bloodshed.

Sitting in the cool, sparkling waters beneath the moon, surrounded by the quiet peace of the mountain and the two women who had somehow become anchors in the storm of his new life, Sol fully relaxed, his core thrumming with a deep, unshakeable power as the night settled over the victorious Veynar.