Chapter 94 Chapter 94

Chapter 94 Chapter 94
Mirelle’s POV

I couldn’t breathe properly.
The smoke was still everywhere, crawling into my lungs, but this—this wasn’t the smoke choking me. No, it was tears waiting to be shed, still lodged in my throat.
My hands shook as I stared at the burnt remains. My mind refused to accept what my eyes were showing me. I took another step back, slow, like maybe if I moved carefully enough, the world would correct itself.
Eragon moved in front of me immediately, blocking my view.
“Princess… don’t,” he said quietly.
But I had already seen enough. My legs felt weak.
“No…” The word came out barely above a whisper. “No, no, no…”
Behind me, Isolde’s voice cracked through the chaos.
“Did you find her? Is she there? Is she—”
I couldn’t turn around or face her. Because if I did… I would have to say it.
Eragon looked down, his jaw tight. Even he couldn’t find the words fast enough. His silence said everything.
A sound tore out of Isolde’s throat. She had understood before I even spoke.
“No!” she screamed suddenly, stumbling toward us. “No, that’s not her! That’s not my Francine!”
She dropped to her knees beside the remains, shaking violently.
I finally turned.
Her hands reached out like she could undo it, like she could pull Francine back from whatever line had been crossed. Her voice broke into something unrecognizable.
“Wake up… please… please wake up…”
Eragon stepped forward like he might stop her, but I grabbed his arm.
“Don’t,” I whispered.
Because there was nothing left to protect her from.
Isolde collapsed forward completely, her forehead pressing into the ashes.
“I told her to wait…” she choked out. “I told her to stay inside until I came back…”
Her shoulders shook violently.
“I left her alone…”
I moved closer, kneeling beside her, but I didn’t know what to do with my hands. I didn’t know how to comfort her because nothing could fix this. Nothing could dull her pain at this very moment.
“I’m sorry,” I said. It was the only thing I could say.
I looked around me at the ruin caused by Eliath and his people. It was devastating.
We needed to help these people.
“Eragon, please get help. We need to help them.”
“Princess… I don’t think we can right now, with everything going on.”
“They need our help, Eragon. We are fighting for them, not for ourselves. So if we can’t help them, then what are we really fighting for?”
He stared down, his hands on his hips.
“I can’t leave you here, Princess…”
“I can take care of myself.”
To prove it, I raised my hand and let lightning spark across my fingers.
His eyes widened.
“Your powers are back?”
I nodded.
“Just go, please, Eragon.”
“Alright…” he said before running off.
I watched him disappear into the smoke before turning back to Isolde.
She was still on the ground, clutching the burnt hand as if letting go would make this real.
Around us, cries echoed through the ruined village. Children searched for parents. Parents searched for children. Homes that had stood so proud while I was here were now nothing but blackened skeletons.
My chest tightened.
I clenched my fists so tightly my nails dug into my palms.
I needed to stand up and gather the survivors.
I wrapped my arms around Isolde's sobbing form.
“It’s okay, Isolde. You are going to be okay,” I said softly.
Then I rose to my feet and forced myself to move.
“There are survivors!” I shouted. “Help anyone you can find!”
A few villagers looked up at me. Some stared blankly, still in shock.
I didn't blame them.
I hurried toward a collapsed house where faint cries were coming from beneath a pile of burning timber.
“Help!” a voice called weakly.
I dropped to my knees immediately.
“I’m here!”
The wooden beams were heavy, but lightning crackled through my fingers, strengthening my muscles. With a strained grunt, I shoved one of the beams aside.
A young teenage girl, almost Francine’s age, stared back at me, tears streaming down her face.
“Thank you...” she whispered.
My heart broke.
I carefully helped her crawl out. She sat heavily on the ground and looked around.
“They just came out of nowhere in their hundreds. The ones already here joined them and started to burn the whole place and kill us. They said we were harbouring rebels because they believed they lived in the Dead Forest. They said it was a warning,” she said, still looking around, her voice heavy with grief.
My stomach twisted painfully.
We were fighting Eliath to protect people like them, not paint targets on their backs.
A sudden scream erupted from the other side of the village.
I turned sharply.
A section of a damaged building finally gave way, crashing toward a group of trapped villagers.
Without thinking, I thrust my hand forward.
Lightning exploded from my palm.
The falling debris shattered midair.
Gasps spread through the crowd.
For a moment, everyone stared at me. At the lightning dancing around my fingers.
“Mirelle?” someone said.
I turned around.
It was Ragel the blacksmith. He was staring at me like I had grown two heads.
I moved closer to him. The villagers would listen to him.
“I need your help, Ragel. We need to gather the survivors. The rebels are coming to help.”
His face scrunched up.
“The rebels are the reason we are in this mess in the first place,” he growled. “Are you with them?”
I didn’t say anything, and that seemed to be answer enough for him.
“Mirelle…”
“Please, Ragel. We can help them. That's why we have to help them. It's our fault.”
“Look at the words you're using, Mirelle. Our. We. You really see yourself as one of them.”
I looked away.
I was one of them. More than he could ever know.
“Please, Ragel…” I said, my eyes pleading.
He grunted and walked away.
For a moment, I thought he wasn't willing to help.
Then he began approaching survivors one by one, speaking to them. They responded to him and slowly gathered where I stood.
Relief washed through me.
I immediately led them toward the forest line.
“Isolde…” I said as I approached her. “We have got to go.”
She was still crying, though more quietly now.
I helped her stand, and together we walked toward the edge of the forest.
By the time we got there, Eragon was back.
But he wasn't alone.
The rebels were finally here.
And behind him was Corlin.
I hadn't expected him to come as well.
They were already helping the villagers and moving them toward the camp.
I handed Isolde over to one of the rebels before walking toward Corlin.
“Hey. Glad you came.”
“I had to help…” he said.
“Prince Corlin?”
Both of us turned.
It was the village head.
“Prince Corlin…” he repeated.
I supposed if anyone would recognize Corlin, it would be him.
The village head hurried toward us and bowed.
The surviving villagers looked at one another in confusion. Then realization spread across their faces.
One by one, they bowed as well.