The night had bled into something colder than dark, something older than shadow. Above them, the sky was not a sky but a wound—a rift stitched poorly by starlight. Winds wept through the broken lands, singing songs no human throat should echo. And in the center of the ruin, Kael stood, the wind tugging at his cloak like it wanted to rip him apart.
Elyra watched him, her breath catching on the edge of something fragile. Not fear. Not awe. Something warmer, gentler. Something she'd buried.
He hadn't spoken since the Vault's revelation. Since the truths that weren't meant to be known had clawed their way into the light.
Elyra's fingers drifted to the pendant beneath her collar—a shard of Starflame's scale, still faintly warm. It was the only piece of her dragon she had left, and its pulse beat in time with her own as she stepped toward Kael.
"You've been quiet," she said.
Kael didn't turn. "Sometimes silence is all that keeps the screaming out."
Elyra stopped beside him. The distance between them was measured not in inches but in history, pain, secrets. But still—he was here. Still breathing. Still fighting. And so was she.
"I saw something," she murmured. "In the Vault. A vision… of what could be. You and me. Together."
Kael finally looked at her. His eyes—gods, those eyes—were storm-dark, haunted and brilliant. "And was it good?"
"It was real," she said. "That's more than I've had in a long time."
For a moment, the ruins faded. The sky mended. The world held its breath.
But then the earth trembled.
The Pale Flame had awakened. Its echoes rolled like thunder through the bones of the world.
A tear in the veil opened, not in front of them, but within them.
From the shadows beyond time, something stepped forth. Not a creature, but a presence. Cloaked in flame without heat, crowned in sorrow without end. It spoke without speaking, a voice that rang behind their eyes.
"You've seen the beginning. Now witness the end."
Kael's sword was drawn before his mind caught up. Elyra stood at his side—not behind, not protected. Equal. Ready.
The thing did not attack. It watched.
And then… it shattered into a thousand moths of burning glass, spiraling into the sky.
"What in all the realms was that?" Elyra breathed.
Kael didn't answer. He couldn't. Because carved into the stone beneath their feet were words that hadn't been there before:
Only love will unmake what hate has wrought. Only fire will birth the dawn.
Elyra looked at him. "Are we ready for this?"
Kael looked at her—not just at her face, but through to her soul. And something inside him moved.
"No," he said. "But we go anyway."
And together, they stepped into the breach.