Chapter 244 TEIGEN LXXIV
Fowler tried to crawl toward him, coughing blood. “We need to leave—”
But it was too late. Elara screamed, a deep, curdling sound, completely primal. The sound shook everything, the floor cracked open around her, fire rising in a circle. The ceiling above gave way.
Beams fell, stone crashed down. The chandeliers dropped in pieces. Sawyer shouted something, but it was lost in the noise. Fowler yelled and Elara stood in the middle of it all.
She looked up at the collapsing ceiling. “Ryker…” she whispered and then everything fell.
—
Outside, the manor collapsed in on itself.
Flames rose high into the sky as the building crumbled. The ground shook beneath the people gathered outside. Augustine and the others turned back, horror on their faces.
Camilla cried into her skirts. Phillipa and Winnie held onto each other.
Augustine could only stare. “Elara…” she whispered, her legs giving way beneath her. Her baby girl, her daughter.
The fire burned on.
Ryker ran until he saw it. The manor was gone.
Flames and smoke filled the sky where it once stood.
“No…” he said, his voice breaking. “Elara!”
People stood at a distance, watching, afraid to get closer.
Then he saw them. Augustine, Camilla, Phillipa, Winnie. They sat on the steps, covered in ash, crying. He rushed to them and dropped to his knees. “Where is she?” he demanded. “Tell me she’s safe.”
No one answered at first.
Camilla looked up, tears running down her face. “She’s gone,” she said softly.
Ryker shook his head. “No. That’s not possible. I came back—I made it back—”
He tried to stand, to run toward the fire, but Augustine grabbed him. “Don’t,” she said. “The manor has already fallen.”
He stared at her, not understanding. “No… Elara wouldn’t—”
Phillipa broke down. Winnie shook her head over and over.
Ryker looked at Augustine again. “Tell me what happened.”
She closed her eyes before speaking. “She thought you were dead. Sawyer told her. And when her father died… when everything was revealed…” Her voice shook. “She lost control.”
Ryker turned toward the flames. “She thought I was gone…” he said quietly.
He dropped forward, his hands hitting the ground. Tears came, hard and fast.
Camilla crawled closer, holding onto his sleeve. “She saved us,” she said. “She made us leave.”
Winnie nodded through her tears. “She was protecting us.”
Phillipa whispered, “She was strong.”
Ryker clenched his fists. “And now she’s gone,” he said, his voice breaking. “Because I wasn’t there.” He pressed his forehead to the ground. “Elara…”
The fire crackled in the distance.
Augustine placed a hand on his shoulder. “You can’t let this destroy you.”
He looked up at her, his eyes full of pain. “She’s gone. What’s left?”
She couldn't answer because there was nothing left, not for her, not for Ryker. The flames had taken the person they loved the most. How could they possibly go on?
One month later....
The ruins were cold now. Blackened stone and ash were all that remained. People spoke of what happened in whispers. Some called it a curse, the curse of the Cortez family. Others called it justice.
But Ryker stayed.
He didn’t leave the ruins. Day after day, he wandered the area. At night, he barely slept. He trained until his hands bled, until the fire in him burned through the trees.
Nothing helped.
Augustine stayed too. So did the others. They couldn’t leave her behind. Every day, Augustine brought flowers to the ruins. Every day, she whispered apologies.
On the thirtieth night, she found Ryker sitting where the doors had once been. He stared into the darkness, unmoving.
“Ryker,” she said gently.
He didn’t look at her. “You should leave,” he said. “There’s nothing here.”
She stepped closer. “And you? Will you stay here forever?”
He turned slightly, his eyes dull in the moonlight. “Maybe.”
She knelt beside him. “Elara loved you,” she said. “If you give up now, then what she did means nothing.”
His jaw tightened. “What do you want me to do? Forget her?”
“No,” she said quickly. “Live for her.” She took his hand. “Protect what she cared about. Carry her with you.”
Her voice broke. “Let me make this right, in some small way. If I couldn’t save her… then let me help you.”
He looked at her, silent. “Please,” she whispered. “Don’t waste your life. Not after everything she gave.”
He looked back at the ruins.
For a moment, he saw her again. Standing there. Alive. His chest tightened. “I don’t know if I can,” he said.
Augustine pulled him into an embrace. “Then you won’t do it alone.” This time, he didn’t pull away.
The market smelled of yeast and dust.
It was a smell Ryker had come to know too well. One month had turned into two, then three. The days blurred together, and with them his grief changed. It did not leave. It only grew quieter, settling deep inside him like a weight he could never set down.
The Baron had found him wandering near the edge of town. Augustine had pushed him to take the work, saying idleness would destroy him faster than anything else. So Ryker had taken it.
Now he carried parcels, scrubbed floors, and ran errands for men who would never look him in the eye. And today, he stood at a bread stall, turning over loaves in his scarred hands, trying to choose one fit for the Baron’s table.
“Too hard,” the baker’s wife said, frowning at his choice.
He put it back and picked another. “Too soft,” she added, unimpressed.
Ryker clenched his jaw. Of all the work he did, this was the worst. He had been a fighter. A soldier. A man who burned with strength and fury.
Now he stood here, judging bread.
He reached for another loaf, his thoughts drifting. Back to the ruins. Back to Elara. Her glowing eyes. Her voice telling them to run.
His fingers paused.
“Not that one either,” the woman snapped.
He was about to answer when he felt it.
Someone was watching him.
The feeling was sharp, heavy. It made the hairs on his neck rise.