12 – 13 Cloudreach 9:37
Hawke’s voice echoed through the courtyard, sharp and determined as she tried, in vain, to reason with both Meredith and Orsino. Cullen stood silently behind Meredith, his gaze flickering between the Champion and the First Enchanter. His jaw was tight, his hands gripping the pommel of his sword more out of habit than need. Every word spoken between the two leaders only deepened the sense of foreboding he’d felt since the Chantry exploded.
You can take command. You can stop this before it’s too late. Ariana’s words from hours ago rang in his mind, her voice carrying both conviction and frustration. She had begged him to step forward, to defy Meredith, to do what he knew in his heart was right. But he hadn’t. He couldn’t. His duty to the Order, to the structure that had defined his entire life, kept him tethered to his role, even as doubt gnawed at him.
“I suppose I should have expected no less from you, Champion,” Meredith said icily, her tone cutting through his thoughts. She turned toward Hawke, her expression hard and unyielding. “So be it. You will share the Circle’s fate.”
Cullen’s chest tightened. His gaze flicked to the Champion, then back to Meredith. Was this truly what justice looked like? The question churned in his gut, but he remained silent. What else could he do? What choice did he have?
And then they arrived.
The White Wolf and the Silver Rangers swept into the courtyard, their presence undeniable as they moved swiftly to stand behind Hawke. Cullen’s heart skipped a beat as his eyes fell on the hooded figure at their head. The White Wolf. He had read countless reports about their exploits, their interference, their defiance of the Templars, their aid of the mages just now—and now they were here, standing against Meredith.
Meredith turned toward the newcomers, her expression darkening. Cullen could see the tension in her frame, the irritation in her clenched jaw. “So,” she said, her tone venomous, “this is the infamous White Wolf. How fitting you would align yourself with these traitors.”
“It’s about time, Wolf,” Hawke said, glancing over her shoulder at the figure. “I was beginning to worry a Templar might have taken you down.”
The White Wolf gave a small shrug, their body language casual but purposeful. Cullen couldn’t take his eyes off them, a strange unease creeping into his chest. There was something about the way they moved, the way they stood.
Riley stepped forward, her stance bold as she addressed Meredith directly. “Are we late, or do we still need to kick this bitch into the Waking Sea?” she said, her voice dripping with defiance.
Meredith’s eyes narrowed dangerously, her hand twitching near her sword. “You will regret those words,” she said, her tone cold enough to chill the air.
Cullen’s eyes flicked to Riley, recognition sparking. If Riley was here, who was protecting Ariana? He had never pressed Ariana much on the Rangers, hoping that they would be the ones to protect her when he couldn’t, but if they were here, who was watching over her?
Orsino’s voice broke through his spiraling thoughts. “So, you stand with the mages? With the Champion?” His words were laden with a mixture of hope and skepticism.
The Rangers’ nods were unhesitating, their resolve clear.
“No matter,” Meredith said sharply, her lips thinning as she turned back to Orsino. “Go. Prepare your people. The rest of the Order is already crossing the harbor.”
“This isn’t over,” Orsino said, his voice steady but weary. He turned toward the Tower, signaling the mages to follow. Hawke, the White Wolf, and the Rangers began moving with them, the tension in the courtyard thick enough to cut with a blade.
Riley lingered, her sharp eyes scanning the Templars before her. She locked eyes with Cullen as he took a hesitant step forward. “Riley,” he called, his voice tight with urgency. Questions churned in his mind, but only one escaped his lips. “Have you heard from Ariana? Is she safe?”
Riley tilted her head, an amused smirk tugging at her lips. “She’s fine,” she said pointedly, her words a deliberate jab. “Though I imagine she’ll be heartbroken to see you siding with Meredith…”
The words hit Cullen like a physical blow. His breath caught in his chest, his mind replaying Ariana’s voice. You cannot let this happen. He had failed her.
“Wait,” he said, his voice sharper than he intended.
The White Wolf, just ahead, paused slightly, their masked face hidden beneath the hood. Their body tensed, but they didn’t turn fully toward him.
Cullen’s gaze snapped back to Riley, his voice dropping to a low, insistent tone. “Who is the White Wolf?” he demanded. “You’re with them, aren’t you? The Silver Rangers?”
Riley shrugged, her expression unreadable. “Wolf doesn’t owe you any answers,” she said simply, her tone deliberately vague. “But you probably owe them some.” Without another word, she turned and followed the others into the shadows.
Cullen stood frozen, his mind racing. His eyes shifted back to the hooded figure disappearing with the group. The way they moved, the way Riley had spoken—it was a cruel puzzle just out of reach.
Stand with me, please
A suspicion formed, sharp and undeniable. A suspicion he wasn’t ready to confront, because if it were true, it would change everything he thought he knew. If the White Wolf was who he now believed them to be, then the foundation of his world wasn’t just cracked—it was shattering.
~~~
Once inside the Circle courtyard, Ariana pulled down her mask and hood, allowing the cool night air to brush against her face. Her heart was racing, but her expression remained steady. She turned to Hawke and Orsino, her gaze sharp but calm, masking the storm raging within her.
“So,” she said, her voice cutting through the tense silence. “Does anyone have any bright ideas here, or is this just… a ‘fight to the death’ kind of thing?”
“There are worse plans,” Varric chimed in, his grin wry but forced, his usual levity tinged with unease.
“No, there really aren’t,” Riley shot back, giving him a look that clearly said,
Orsino straightened, his tone resolute but hurried. “You give your people orders, and I’ll arrange mine. We need to move quickly.”
“That’s also an unsurprisingly bad plan,” Ariana interjected, her tone dry but controlled, cutting through the escalating panic. “If we’re not coordinated, this ends in disaster.” Her voice softened slightly as she added, “Let me help.”
Orsino frowned but nodded reluctantly. His desperation was clear, and Ariana seized the moment.
“Hawke,” she said, her voice firm as she turned to her. “We need Aveline, Isabela, and Fenris in the lower courtyard. Their combat skills will hold the Templars where the mages are most vulnerable. All mages should be stationed along the walkways above, taking shots from a distance. The Rangers will fill gaps where needed and bear the brunt of the initial assault. We’ll focus on incapacitation, giving you time to deal with Meredith directly.”
Hawke raised an eyebrow but didn’t argue, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “You’ve got my vote,” she said, her tone attempting to inject some levity into the moment.
“Very well,” Orsino said, though his tone carried begrudging acceptance. “I’ll inform the mages.”
Ariana nodded, already stepping back into motion. She paused as Varric called out to her, his voice steady but tinged with concern. “Hey, pup. Be careful out there.”
She glanced at him, her expression softening briefly before the mask slid back into place. “Always,” she replied, her voice quieter than usual. With a sharp motion, she pulled her hood up and her mask into place, signaling the Rangers to follow her.
The group moved swiftly to the far gate, the tension thick enough to choke the air around them. Ariana led them into position at a narrow passage, a natural bottleneck where they could force the Templars to engage in smaller numbers. The sound of boots echoed faintly in the distance, growing louder with each passing moment.
As the Rangers crouched into position, Ariana scanned the area, her mind racing through every possibility. She clenched and unclenched her hands, the leather of her gloves creaking softly as her fingers flexed. Beneath the glove on her left hand, the ring Cullen had given her pressed against her skin. The thought of him sent a sharp pang through her chest, a mixture of heartbreak, anger, and longing.
She couldn’t stop replaying the look in his eyes when he had stood beside Meredith, silent and immovable. You can take command. You can stop this before it’s too late. Her own voice echoed in her mind, a desperate plea that had gone unanswered. Had he even tried? Had he ever really considered it? Or had he chosen Meredith—and the Order—over her all along?
“Wolf,” Riley’s voice broke through her thoughts, quiet but insistent. She was standing close, her concern evident. “Are you alright?”
Ariana turned her head to meet Riley’s gaze. For a brief moment, the cracks in her façade were visible, her eyes betraying the weight pressing down on her. She looked away, her hand instinctively rubbing the spot where her ring rested beneath the glove. The cool metal was a constant reminder of what she stood to lose, of what she might have already lost.
“I’m fine,” she replied curtly, her voice steady despite the storm inside her. The mask was back in place, her tone leaving no room for further questions.
Riley studied her for a moment but didn’t press. “Alright,” she said, gripping her weapon tighter. “Let’s make sure this doesn’t turn into a death march.”
Ariana nodded faintly, her focus shifting forward as the sound of approaching Templars grew louder. She raised a hand, signaling the Rangers to hold their positions. The first glint of armor appeared at the edge of the passage, and her breath caught in her throat. The battle was imminent.
As she drew her blades, a fierce determination settled over her. She couldn’t afford hesitation or doubt. Not now. There were lives to save, and the legend of the White Wolf wouldn’t falter—not tonight. Her blades felt heavier than usual, as though the weight of her choices had seeped into the steel. Each step brought her closer to a confrontation she wished she could avoid, but Cullen’s face lingered in her thoughts like a shadow. She could almost hear his voice, calm and resolute, delivering orders from behind Meredith’s veil of authority. Her hand brushed the ring again, and she swallowed hard, forcing herself to stay present.
The air in the passage was thick with anticipation, the distant shouts of Templars cutting through the night. Each step they took echoed like a countdown, each moment tightening the knot in Ariana’s chest. The time for doubt had passed. Now, there was only action.
The sounds of the advancing Templars grew louder, their formation coming into view as they prepared to breach the passage. Ariana’s grip tightened on her weapons, and for a fleeting moment, her thoughts returned to Cullen.
You could have stopped this. You could have stood with me.
The ache in her chest turned to steel. She pushed the thought away, focusing on the task ahead. There was no time for heartbreak, no room for anger. She would deal with those later—if there was a later.
“Hold steady,” she said, her voice like flint striking steel. The Rangers shifted into position, their eyes fixed ahead, waiting for her signal. The clink of Templar armor grew louder, and Ariana tightened her grip on her daggers. There would be no retreat. No surrender.
The battle for Kirkwall was about to begin in earnest, and Ariana had no choice but to meet it head-on.
~~~
It wasn’t long before the battle began in full force. Templars charged into the courtyard with relentless precision, their battle cries mingling with the shouts of the Rangers as they clashed. Ariana moved like a shadow among them, her dual-bladed daggers glinting as she struck with precision. The Rangers worked tirelessly to disable as many Templars as possible, knocking them unconscious or disarming them whenever they could.
Ariana was locked in combat with two Templars, her movements fluid yet calculated. She ducked and spun, her daggers deflecting their strikes with deadly efficiency. But then she felt it—another sword coming from behind her. She twisted, dodging out of the way just in time, and turned to face her new attacker.
Don’t think, Ariana. Act.
Her heart plummeted as recognition hit her like a physical blow. Cullen. She hadn’t wanted this. She had hoped to avoid this exact confrontation. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Maker, not like this. She’d pictured so many outcomes, so many ways the night could spiral, but none had included crossing blades with him. But now, as he raised his sword and met her gaze beneath the shadow of her hood, resignation settled over her. There was no escaping this.
“You saved me once,” Cullen said, his voice cutting through the noise. “From the Qunari. Why are you here now, White Wolf? Why fight against us?”
Ariana’s fingers tightened around her daggers, but she couldn’t bring herself to respond. Her silence hung heavy between them, her hood shielding her expression.
“Will you kill me now?” Cullen asked, his tone quieter, almost pleading.
She shook her head—a small, deliberate motion. No.
Cullen exhaled sharply, lowering his sword slightly. “Then I’ll do my best not to kill you,” he said, his voice heavy with something deeper—resignation, perhaps. “But I won’t let you destroy this city.”
Without waiting for a response, he attacked. Ariana deflected the blow, their weapons clashing in a flurry of sparks. The fight began in earnest, and it was brutal. Steel met steel with a screeching clash. Cullen’s strikes were measured, relentless, while Ariana danced around him, her daggers a blur of motion. Sparks flew as their blades connected, the sound sharp and unforgiving over the roar of battle.
First rule: speed over strength. You’re not going to overpower anyone. You’re fast. Use that.
Ariana moved with precision, relying on her speed to counter Cullen’s strength. She knew his fighting style well, his strikes powerful and deliberate, but she had an edge—her agility, her ability to read his movements. Yet even as she fought, her heart ached. Every clash of their blades felt like a betrayal, widening the space between them.
“Why won’t you speak?” Cullen demanded, his frustration bleeding into his voice as their blades locked.
Their movements were swift and dynamic, a flurry of strikes and counters that seemed almost choreographed. Cullen’s blade met Ariana’s daggers with sharp precision, it was a familiar rhythm. They’d done this exact dance many mornings before. Ariana could predict his moves almost better than she could predict her own.
Ariana darted to the side, using her agility to her advantage. She avoided his heavier blows, striking when she could to keep him on his heels, though always aiming for his armor—not to harm him. Cullen, for his part, was unyielding, his years of training and leadership evident in every move. But there was hesitation in his strikes, as though he couldn’t fully commit to the fight.
The battle was interrupted by the arrival of two more Templars, rushing up behind Ariana. She sensed them just in time, twisting her body to avoid their blades. In the maneuver, she managed to sweep one Templar’s legs out from under him and knock the other’s sword away. But the effort left her open.
Cullen seized the moment, his sword striking with precision. It wasn’t a killing blow—he aimed carefully—but it was enough. The blade slashed across her side, and she stumbled, her breathing sharp as pain radiated from the wound. Blood seeped through her cloak as she staggered back, clutching her side.
“What’s the point of speed if you can’t predict your enemy’s next move?”
Ariana gritted her teeth, steadying herself. She couldn’t stop now. The mages still needed her. She gripped her dagger tighter, forcing herself to stand tall despite the fire in her side. The world spun for a moment, and Cullen’s voice seemed distant. But she wouldn’t fall. Not here, not yet. Too many lives depended on her. But as Cullen stepped forward, sword still raised, her vision blurred slightly, and for a moment, she wasn’t sure if she could continue.
~~~
The fight was relentless. Cullen couldn’t shake the familiarity of her rhythm and precision, though now every move she made screamed of the truth he didn’t want to accept. She dodged and deflected, using her speed to stay ahead of his strikes. She seemed to know his strengths well and exploited them, staying one step ahead. But he could see fatigue was setting in. Blood seeped from the wound on her side—a shallow but telling blow across her torso, and now it was slowing her down.
“You’re injured, stand down,” Cullen asked. He genuinely had no interest in killing the White Wolf. He owed them a debt.
The White Wolf rushed Cullen but her injury slowed her just enough. Cullen deflected her strike with precision, his sword glancing off her wounded side. The force of the blow drove her down to one knee, her hand instinctively clutching her side as she gasped for breath.
Cullen stepped forward, his blade raised for another strike. But before he could bring it down, Riley appeared, her massive two-handed sword colliding with his in a deafening clash. Sparks flew as Riley pushed him back, her strength forcing him to break his stance.
“Stay on your feet, Wolf!” Riley barked, sparing only a quick glance at Ariana before turning back to the chaos, rejoining the fray to cover the mages.
Cullen staggered, his grip on his sword tightening as he met Riley’s fierce gaze.“It was in that moment that all the puzzle pieces came together. The way she moved, the way she fought, the hesitation in her strikes, Riley’s words—‘This one dragged me all over Ferelden and Orlais looking for ‘someone.’ It all fell into place with a clarity that left him breathless.
Cullen staggered back, the world tilting around him. It wasn’t just her face he recognized—it was the truth of every unanswered question, every doubt he had pushed aside. The weight of it hit like a hammer, shattering the fragile framework of his loyalty and love.
‘Ariana…’ he whispered, his voice barely audible, the name leaving his lips like a plea.”
The White Wolf froze, her hand briefly twitching toward her hood before pulling it back. Time seemed to stop as she revealed her face, her gaze locking with his. With a single practiced motion, she unhooked the clasp at her shoulder, letting the cloak fall to the ground in a heap. With deliberate care, she pulled her mask down from her face, revealing herself fully.
Time seemed to stop as the hood fell back, and the mask slid from her face. The world around them blurred into insignificance, the shouts of battle fading into the distance. Her face—so achingly familiar—was etched with pain, determination, and something deeper. His breath caught, his grip on his sword faltering. How had he not seen it? The truth had been in front of him all along, but he had refused to look.”
“No,” Cullen breathed, the truth slamming into him like a physical blow. “Maker… no.”
His chest tightened. Confusion, anger, and betrayal warred within him, all threatening to boil over. “Why? Why this?” His voice cracked with emotion, but he raised his sword again, his duty warring with his disbelief. “Why are you here? Why are you—”
“Because someone has to be,” she interrupted sharply, her voice cutting through his. “Someone has to do what you won’t.” She stood, sheathing her daggers. Then she raised her empty hands, daring Cullen to come at her again.
Without her weapons, her movements became even more fluid, untethered by the hesitation she showed before. She darted around him, leveraging the walls and railings of the narrow space to stay one step ahead. Twice, she managed to sweep his feet out from under him, sending him sprawling to the ground. The second time, his shield fell from his grasp, and she kicked it away into the chaos, her breath ragged but determined.
Cullen rose to his feet, his face a mix of anger and disbelief. Before he could attack again, her voice rang out, cutting through the noise of battle. “Do you agree with this, Cullen?” she demanded, her tone sharp and unrelenting. “Do you believe every mage in this tower deserves to die?”
He froze, her words halting him for a moment. His grip on his sword tightened as he met her gaze. “You think I want this?” he shot back, his voice brimming with frustration. “You think I wanted any of this?”
“You could have stopped this!” she shouted, her movements growing more aggressive as her anger overtook her exhaustion. “You could have stopped her! Instead, you chose Meredith. You chose this war over me.”
Her voice cracked, but she pressed forward, her words cutting deeper. “I’ve seen you question her orders before. I’ve seen you hesitate, even when it cost you. So why now? Why is this the one time you can’t see past her lies?”
Cullen’s jaw tightened, his frustration spilling over as he countered, “You think I wanted this?” His voice rose, trembling with emotion. “Do you have any idea what it’s like? To believe you knew someone, only to find out they’ve chosen to stand against you?”
Ariana’s eyes blazed with defiance. “The Divine chose me for this path—not Meredith, not me. I didn’t ask for this war. I didn’t want it.”
“The Divine?” her words stopping him for a moment. If the Divine stood with her, then who was he fighting for? He shook the thought from his mind he couldn’t let himself believe that. “So that’s the real reason you met with the Divine?,” Cullen snapped, his voice thick with pain and betrayal. “So you chose that path over us? And now we’re here. Fighting each other, because you couldn’t trust me enough to tell me the truth.”
Her steps slowed as his words cut through her. She stopped, her hands still raised in a defensive stance, her chest heaving from exertion. “I did trust you,” she said, her voice breaking slightly, though her resolve remained intact. “I trusted you to do the right thing. I begged you to take control, Cullen.”
“It wasn’t that simple” he countered, stepping toward her, his anger barely contained.
“Does telling yourself that make it easier?” Ariana shot back. Her jaw tightened, and she took a step back, her fingers twitching as though readying for another fight. “You think I wanted this, Cullen? That I wanted to lie to you? To live in the shadows while the man I loved stood on the opposite side of this war? I didn’t have a choice.”
“You did,” Cullen shouted, his composure finally cracking. “You could have told me! Maker, Ariana, I would have fought for you. With you. But you didn’t even give me the chance.”
Cullen’s voice cracked, raw and heavy with emotion. The betrayal clawed at him, but beneath the anger was a grief he couldn’t contain. He had imagined standing beside her, fighting for the same cause, but now they were on opposing sides, and the weight of her silence felt like a wound he couldn’t heal.
Her breath hitched, and for a moment she seemed to consider his words, her gaze locked with his. “I begged you to stand with me. Would knowing who I was have changed your mind?” she asked quietly, the anger in her tone replaced by heartbreak. “Would you have stood with me against Meredith? Against the Order? If you had known it was the White Wolf asking, would that have changed this?”
Stand with me, please. Her words cut deep, but he couldn’t bring himself to answer. The truth was written in his hesitation, in the way his sword fell limply at his side. “You lied to me,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “You’ve been lying to me for years.”
Ariana’s shoulders sagged slightly, the weight of their argument, their betrayal, hanging between them. Her voice was softer now but no less resolute. “I never wanted this, Cullen. But I couldn’t stand by and watch innocent people suffer. How could you?”
“Dammit it all. Do you know I never investigated the transports or the escaped mages that thoroughly. Because you were right.” Cullen sighed “Someone was saving the people I couldn’t.”
“And yet, none of it mattered.” Ariana’s voice was tinged with pain and resignation “Meredith invoked the Right of Annulment. And you stood by her. Enforced it. Do you really believe this is right?”
For a moment, he faltered, the conflict in his eyes unmistakable. But his duty-bound resolve pushed him forward. “It doesn’t matter what I believe,” he said, his tone flat, devoid of emotion. “The order demands the Right be carried out once it’s invoked, and she has the authority to do so.”
Ariana’s laugh was bitter and hollow, the sound slicing through the chaos around them. “And you call me a liar,” she said, her voice dripping with disdain. “Do you remember what I told you? Belief without question is dangerous. You are no better than her, Cullen.”
Their fight wasn’t over, but for now, they could only stare at each other—two people on opposite sides of a war they never wanted to fight.
Cullen swung his sword again, his movements sharp and unrelenting, but she slipped past him with practiced ease. Her foot caught the back of his leg, forcing him to his knees. She didn’t press the advantage, stepping back instead to give herself space to breathe, her chest heaving from exertion. Her hand pressing her side trying to stem bleeding.
“Are you really going to kill me, Cullen?” she asked, her voice soft but with an edge he couldn’t ignore. “For her? To simply carry out her orders?”
In truth, Cullen wasn’t sure why he had pressed the attack. He was angry but he couldn’t kill her. The wound he inflicted earlier was taking its toll. He could see it in her eyes that she was struggling to focus and yet, she kept fighting. In that moment, despite everything, the betrayal, the lies, the secrets… Not only could he not kill her, he needed to save her. He needed her to stop fighting if only long enough to treat her wound. “Ari, please stop this. You’re hurt. You’re bleeding, let me look at it.”
Ariana was clearly spent, her body trembling from the effort of holding herself together. She dropped to one knee, her hand pressed firmly to her side, staunching the blood that seeped through her fingers. Her other hand rested on her knee, bracing her, keeping her from collapsing entirely. “I guess this is your chance, then,” she said, her tone resigned. “You can be the one to bring down the White Wolf…”
Cullen crossed the distance between them, kneeling beside her. His hands moved instinctively to put pressure on her injury, and she winced at the added force. The sight of her blood seeping through his fingers was like a punch to the gut. He had done this. He had inflicted this wound. His mind churned with a storm of emotions—guilt, anger, confusion—all swirling around the unshakable truth that he had failed her in every way that mattered.
She trusts me now? After everything? After I stood by Meredith, after I struck this blow myself? How can she still trust me? The weight of her trust was unbearable, suffocating. She had begged him to stand with her, to do the right thing, and he had failed. Yet here she was, letting him piece her back together.
“Why couldn’t you trust me enough to tell me?” he asked, his voice thick with emotion. His words came out harsher than intended, but the ache in his chest demanded answers. Why didn’t you let me fight for you?
Ariana’s gaze softened, her tears glistening in the dim light. She blinked rapidly, as though trying to hold them at bay, but one slipped free, tracing a path down her cheek. “It wasn’t that I didn’t trust you,” she said quietly, her voice steady despite the pain. “It was that I loved you too much to force the choices I had made on you, knowing they would go against everything you believed in. But I’m asking you now, again, do the right thing. Protect those who can’t protect themselves. We saved as many as we could.”
Her words were a blade, cutting deep into the fragile remains of his composure. He removed his hand briefly from her wound, untying the sash around her waist with practiced ease. His hands trembled slightly as he tightened the makeshift bandage around her. “You need a healer, Ari,” he said, his voice softer now, the name slipping out like a quiet prayer.
Ariana chuckled bitterly, though it was laced with pain. “And where would you suggest I find one right now?” Her tone was dry, almost sardonic, and it stung in its truth. Cullen had no answer—how could he, he had just stood by Meredith.
Before he could respond, Michael appeared seemingly out of nowhere, crouching next to Ariana. “Get up, Ari,” he said, his voice firm but gentle as he slipped an arm around her to help her to her feet. “We’re done here. The courtyard is almost clear.”
Cullen’s breath caught. The realization hit him like a hammer blow. Michael… His mind raced as he watched them. He knew. Did he always know?. Every moment, every interaction, every quiet deflection suddenly made sense. Michael had been lying to him for years—hiding Ariana, hiding the truth. The betrayal was staggering, but it paled in comparison to the ache in his chest as he saw how naturally Michael steadied her. Michael had earned her trust despite their history. How blind had he been?
Ariana’s tears finally spilled over as Michael grabbed her arm to lead her away. She hesitated, breaking free of his grasp. Cullen stood frozen, his thoughts a cacophony of anger, guilt, and heartbreak. Then, without warning, she turned back to him, closed the distance, and wrapped her arms around him. Her lips met his in a kiss that was soft but desperate, her tears mingling with his skin.
Cullen froze, his breath stolen, but soon he responded in kind. His arms encircled her waist, holding her as though it might anchor them both against the chaos of the world crashing down around them.
When she pulled away, her eyes met his, raw with pain and longing. “Goodbye, Cullen,” she whispered, her voice breaking, barely audible over the din of the battlefield.
Before he could speak, before he could stop her, she turned and walked away, Michael by her side. Their figures disappeared into the smoke and shadows, swallowed by the chaos.
Cullen stood there, his sword lying forgotten on the ground. His heart pounded in his chest, her final words echoing in his mind, relentless and unyielding. He couldn’t stop replaying the look in her eyes, the trust that lingered there even now. She still loved him. Despite everything, she still cared. That thought was a balm and a torment all at once, igniting a fresh wave of guilt and sorrow.
For the first time in years, Cullen wasn’t sure if he had done the right thing—or if he had just lost everything that truly mattered.