The morning beyond the Vale felt different, sharper. Like the world had taken a breath it had held for centuries and finally exhaled.
Seris walked ahead, her cloak pulled tight, the silver circlet hidden beneath but thrumming faintly against her collarbone. Her boots crushed frost-laced grass with each step, and her silence was not cold, but thoughtful.
Kael followed, a little behind, watching her rather than the trail.
"Should I be worried," he said lightly, "that you haven't insulted me in at least ten minutes?"
Seris glanced over her shoulder with a smirk. "Just conserving energy. You'll need it when I outpace you on the climb."
Kael grinned. "You dream big, Princess."
She rolled her eyes, but a faint blush colored her cheeks. "Don't call me that."
"What? Princess?" he teased, drawing up beside her. "Why not? It fits. You command, you glare, and occasionally, you threaten my life."
She elbowed him lightly. "I'm not your Princess."
"No," he said, softer now. "You're mine."
Her steps faltered for just a breath, but she didn't look away. "You don't get to say things like that while we're trudging through wildlands."
"Too romantic?" he asked.
"Too distracting."
They laughed, and the sound felt almost unnatural in the quiet woods, but also, right.
They crested a ridge by midday, revealing a broken watchtower nestled in the ruins of stone and ivy below, Seris stopped, brow furrowed.
"This used to be one of our outposts," she murmured. "Before the fall."
"You remember it?"
"No. But… I feel it. Like the wind knows my name here."
Kael stepped closer, fingers brushing hers. "Then we follow the wind."
Inside the ruin, silence was heavier. Old bones lay tucked in the corner, and broken blades rusted in the dirt.
They set camp near the hollow hearth. Kael lit a small fire while Seris unpacked their provisions. The closeness of the ruined walls made the world feel smaller, just them, firelight, and echoes.
The fire crackled low, coaxed to life by Seris's steady hands and a bundle of dry kindling scavenged from a nearby grove. Kael crouched beside her, gutting the two wild pheasants he'd trapped earlier with thin, practiced motions.
Across from them, their unexpected companion, Lorent, the silver-eyed scout, sank onto a rock, his lean frame still taut with the wariness of someone long used to watching his own back.
"You didn't poison the birds, did you?" Lorent asked, half-smirking.
Kael shot him a dry look. "If I wanted you dead, you wouldn't be eating first."
"That's comforting," Lorent said, stretching his legs toward the warmth. "Though honestly, if either of you wanted to kill me in my sleep, I'd probably thank you. Been sleeping with one eye open for two years."
"Then keep both open tonight," Seris said calmly. "We don't trust easily."
"Didn't ask you to." He leaned forward, gaze flickering to the fire. "But I know the mark you both carry. You were the ones who led the final defense at Asterhall."
Silence hung briefly.
Kael turned the skewered meat over the flames. The scent of roasting flesh filled the clearing. "We were betrayed by our own. The high lords sold us out to the Dominion."
"They told the world you fell in glory," Lorent said quietly.
Seris snorted. "We fell in ash."
A long pause followed. Only the wind answered.
"But you rose again," Lorent said, softer this time. "That's more than most."
Seris glanced at Kael. Their eyes held a thousand words unsaid.
"We didn't rise," she murmured. "We crawled out from the bones of our people."
Kael offered her the first skewer, then passed another to Lorent. "Eat. We ride early."
Lorent took it, chewing thoughtfully. "Where to?"
"There's a stronghold," Kael said. "Southwest. If it hasn't collapsed, it might still hold remnants of the archives. Writings. Names. Maybe even survivors."
"Or traps," Lorent muttered. "Every ruin is a gamble."
"So is every step we take," Seris said. "But it's the only lead we have."
A beat of silence passed, filled only by chewing and crackling wood.
Lorent shifted. "You said you were betrayed. By whom?"
Kael's eyes darkened, his jaw clenched. "By those who wore our colors. Councilors who drank with us. Generals who called us brother and sister."
"The Archon of the East," Seris added. "He ordered the Citadel's gates opened to the enemy. Claimed peace, but bartered our lives for it."
"And what did you do?" Lorent asked.
Kael met his gaze without flinching. "We killed him. Slowly."
Lorent let out a low whistle. "Brutal."
"Just," Seris corrected.
Kael stood, brushing soot from his hands. "Get some sleep. I'll take first watch."
"I'll take second," Lorent offered.
Seris didn't argue. She laid her cloak on the dry earth, close to the fire. For a moment, the night seemed too quiet, too fragile.
Kael sat near her, whetstone in hand, slowly running it along the broken sword's edge. Between strokes, his gaze kept drifting toward her.
Lorent rolled onto his side, facing the other way. "Try not to make too much noise if you two plan to whisper sweet nothings."
Seris gave Kael a sideways smirk. "He's got a sharp tongue."
"He'll lose it if he keeps talking," Kael murmured.
But his voice softened as he added, "Sleep, Seris. I'll be here."
She didn't answer. Just reached out, her fingers brushing his.
"I know," she whispered."
"You ever think about what it would've been like?" she asked suddenly. "If none of this had happened? If we'd met at a banquet instead of a battlefield?"
Kael raised an eyebrow. "Would you have danced with me?"
Seris snorted. "You? Probably not. Too much brooding. And your hair's always messy."
"I was going for rugged."
"You were going for 'I fell out of a tree.'"
He tossed a dried berry at her. She ducked, laughing, and that sound again, that rare and beautiful sound, made something in his chest ache.
Later, when night curled in, Seris took first watch. Kael sat beside her, close enough to feel her warmth. Lorent had rolled himself into his cloak by the wall, snoring softly, a faint reminder that they weren't alone anymore, not quite.
Kael kept sharpening the blade, but more out of habit than need. Seris was quiet beside him, her eyes scanning the shadows beyond the ruined archway.
"You trust him?" Kael asked, low.
"No," she said. "But I don't distrust him either. That's something."
Kael gave a low hum. "He talks too much."
Seris smiled faintly. "You barely talk at all. Between the two of you, I might find balance."
He chuckled, a soft, rare sound. "I thought I was your balance."
She turned slightly toward him. "You are. But balance doesn't always mean silence, Kael."
They sat like that a while, watching the stars blink above the broken ceiling. Peace, for a breath. Then;
A rustle outside.
Both were on their feet in a heartbeat, blades drawn. Lorent stirred with a grunt, fumbling for his dagger.
From the shadow of the ruined corridor, a shape emerged. Hooded. Lean. Moving like someone half-dead from the road but still dangerous. Kael raised his sword.
The figure paused, arms half-raised.
"I'm not your enemy," came a familiar voice. Ragged, dust-choked. "At least, not tonight."
Kael narrowed his eyes. "Aeren?"
The man pulled back his hood, revealing eyes that gleamed silver in the firelight. Older than when they last saw him. Scarred. And yet, unchanged in ways that sent a chill through Kael's blood.
Lorent shot upright. "Another friend of yours?"
Kael didn't lower his blade. "That depends."
Seris stepped forward, eyes locked on Aeren. "You were supposed to be dead."
"I was," Aeren said. "But death wasn't done with me yet.
Aeren stepped closer into the firelight, every movement careful, the exhaustion in his bones barely masking the sharp edge in his gaze. His cloak hung in tatters, and blood crusted along the curve of his left arm.
Seris crossed her arms. "We buried you in the Ashen Cleft. You, don't get to just walk back."
Aeren's smile was bitter. "I didn't ask for resurrection. But here I am. The gods clearly have poor taste."
Kael finally sheathed his blade. "How did you survive?"
"I didn't. Not really." He dropped to one knee by the fire and reached for the warmth, eyes distant. "When the gates fell, I stayed behind with the western flank. We were the last. I thought we could hold... Then the sky cracked open."
Lorent's eyes flicked between them, clearly trying to catch up. "Sky cracked? You people talk in riddles."
Seris ignored him. "You should've sent word. Something."
"I was trapped behind enemy lines. Captured. Then, worse." Aeren's voice caught. "I escaped, barely. But I kept quiet. If they knew I lived, they would've hunted you both faster."
Kael's jaw clenched. "They still did."
A heavy silence settled. Seris moved to the fire and tossed another branch in, sparks rising. Her voice softened. "So why now? Why come to us?"
Aeren's eyes lifted. "Because I found something. In the deep sands, past the Reach. A map. A prophecy. Something about a rebirth of flame... and the shadow that comes after. I think it's tied to the circlet, and to you."
Kael exchanged a glance with Seris. Her fingers instinctively touched the circlet beneath her hood.
Lorent let out a low whistle. "Why do all ancient things speak in vague death threats and poetic doom?"
"Because the truth is too heavy to say plain," Aeren replied.
Seris lowered herself to sit beside Kael, her posture still guarded. "We need to decide tomorrow. If this is a path worth following."
"We don't have many left to follow," Kael said quietly.
Aeren studied the two of them. "You've changed."
Seris arched a brow. "So have you."
"I didn't mean your faces," he said. "I meant... the way you look at each other."
Kael didn't respond. But Seris gave the smallest smile, then quickly buried it in her sleeve as if embarrassed.
Lorent made a dramatic show of gagging. "If you all start kissing , I swear I'll leave."
Kael smirked. "Who said you were invited to stay ?"
"Oh I'm staying," Lorent said, moving toward the pack. "I've been carrying half your things all day. Fair trade."
Seris let out a soft laugh.
Aeren looked at Kael. "You're going to need allies. If you're serious about the old crown... you can't do it with just three swords and a memory."
Kael met his gaze evenly. "Then help us. If you're really back, prove it."
Aeren held out his flask. "To fire, and to echoes."
Kael hesitated, then tapped it with his own. "To vengeance."
Seris took it last. "To whatever comes after.