The sun was setting over the quiet village of Stonebrook, painting the fields in hues of orange and gold. I sat on the steps of my modest cottage, a mug of ale in hand, watching the children chase fireflies through the grass. Their laughter echoed in the evening air, a comforting reminder of the peace that had returned to the world.
Life here was simple, and I liked it that way. Every morning I worked alongside the villagers, mending fences, chopping wood, or helping rebuild what the dragon's terror had destroyed. Nobody here called me a hero. To them, I was just Elias, the quiet man with a knack for fixing things.
And that was fine. No, it was better than fine.
Because when the bards sang their tales of the Demonic Dragon's defeat, it wasn't my name they praised - it was Galena's. Galena the Radiant. Galena the Mage of Light. Galena the Savior of Eldros.
Her name was known in every corner of the kingdom now, her face painted on banners and tapestries. They told stories of her power, her courage, her beauty. Some even whispered that she was blessed by the gods themselves.
Nobody mentioned me, and I was glad for it. I had no desire for the weight of fame. The truth was, if anyone deserved to be remembered, it was her. Galena had been the heart and soul of our quest. Without her, I would have been nothing but a corpse in the dragon's lair.
But even as I told myself I was content, I couldn't stop my thoughts from drifting back to her.
It wasn't bitterness - I wasn't envious of her fame. Quite the opposite. Every time I heard her name, I felt a surge of pride, as if some small part of her accomplishments belonged to me too. She had carried the weight of the world on her shoulders, and I had been lucky enough to stand beside her, if only for a short time.
Still, I missed her.
I missed her laugh, the way it could fill even the darkest moments with light. I missed the spark in her eyes when she cast her spells, the fierce determination that made me believe we could overcome anything. I missed her sharp wit, the way she teased me for being "just a man with a sword."
And, on lonely nights, I missed her in other ways.
There were moments I'd catch myself thinking about the way her hair had spilled across my chest like a silken river under the pale glow of the moon. How her scent - a mixture of wildflowers and something uniquely her - lingered on my skin long after she'd left. I'd close my eyes and remember the softness of her lips, the heat of her breath, the way she'd whispered my name in the dark.
Those nights had been fleeting, stolen amidst the chaos of our quest. Neither of us had spoken of love, not explicitly. But there had been something unspoken between us, something raw and real, forged in the crucible of danger and desperation.
I wondered if she remembered.
Did she think of the nights we'd shared, tangled together in the cold light of distant stars? Did she miss the way we'd fit together, as if the universe had shaped us for each other, if only for a moment?
It didn't matter. She had moved on, as she was meant to. And I... I had stayed behind, as I was meant to.
"Elias!" a voice called, breaking through my reverie. It was one of the villagers, old Thom, waving at me from across the field. "You coming to the tavern tonight?"
I shook my head with a smile. "Not tonight, Thom. You go on ahead."
He shrugged and shuffled off, leaving me alone again.
I sighed and leaned back against the wooden railing, watching the first stars appear in the darkening sky. Somewhere out there, Galena was probably saving another village, defeating another foe, weaving more threads into the tapestry of her legend.
I wondered if she ever thought of me.
Did she remember the way we'd laughed together after barely escaping death? The fear we'd shared in the dragon's lair? The way we'd stolen time for ourselves, carving out brief moments of tenderness amidst the chaos?
Part of me hoped she didn't. She deserved to move on, to embrace the life she was meant for without being weighed down by memories of an ordinary man who had been lucky enough to fight by her side.
But another part of me - a selfish, foolish part - hoped that somewhere, in the quiet moments between her adventures, she missed me too.
I took a sip of ale and closed my eyes, letting the cool breeze wash over me. I didn't deserve her. I never had. But I felt blessed to have shared even a fragment of her life. And if that was all I was ever given, it was enough.
The world would remember Galena as a hero, a savior, a legend. But I would remember her as something even greater.
I would remember her as my friend.