Kale woke with dirt in his mouth. It was bitter, dry, and clung to his tongue like ash.
Every inch of his body ached. Sore ribs and stiff muscles were tight with cold. Above him, gray sky stretched endlessly without stars or moon. Just the pale dimness of a forgotten world.
Kale reached for light but nothing came. Magic was gone. The gods had taken everything.
He sat up slowly, each motion painful. Around him, the land lay dead with black stones, trees twisted in unbelievable manner stripped of their bark with no color.
Kale understood. This wasn't exile, It was abandonment.
Days passed. Maybe weeks.
He moved through the dark world like smoke with no purpose but only survival. He drank black water from cracked stones. Ate dry moss that made his stomach twist. Slept with one eye open.
One night, he fought off a pack of feral things, starved bone-thin, more teeth than flesh. He came out with a cracked rib.
Kale didn't seem to care. Pain was better than silence. At least it reminded him he was still there. Still trying.
On the fifth day, a cart found him.The wooden cart was pulled by a heavy beast with horrifying eyes and only half of its horns remaining. The driver was a large man in a patchwork cloak. He looked down at Kale without surprise.
"Are you breathing?" the man asked.
"Get in. You die out here, I lose my bounty."
Kale didn't ask questions. He climbed into the back before everything went black.
He woke on a wooden bed in a stone room that smelled of blood and barleywine, nearby a lantern burned low.
"You're lucky," the man said. He sat at a small table, dressed in a wine cloak,
"Most last two days. Maybe three.
What's your name?"
Kale hesitated. "Kale."
The man nodded. " Rask. I work here in this Tavern. Do you work ?"
Rask didn't wait. "You work, you live. I don't tolerate idleness."
"I'll work," Kale said.
"Good."
When Kale entered the tavern, he was surprised, it was like a city in a building.
Three floors of madness.
Gold flowed like wine. Upstairs? Warlords, ministers, and masked princes dined on richly carpeted floors. Bodyguards stood like statues.
Middle floor? Laughter. Loud and fake. Rich men clapping for dancers they had never touched.
Ground floor? It was Chaos. Alcohol, blood, and shouting. That's where Kale worked.
He mopped floors, hauled crates, cleaned puke, and served greasy meat.
The tavern was always noisy and smokey, until one night. That night was different.
Crowd lined up before the doors even opened. Whispers passed from mouth to mouth about a singer.
She sang for tyrants. Some say warlords saw heaven in her eyes. Some say one merchant killed his own cousin for a single session from her.
And tonight? She would sing here.
Rask, the floor boss, grabbed Kale by the collar.
"You're staying," he said. "We need hands."
"I'd rather not," Kale muttered.
"Triple pay," Rask growled. "Quadruple if you shut your mouth and move fast."
Kale was tempted
He had planned to slip away. Back to his stone room. Whisper Mira's name to the wall until sleep took him, but coin was coin.
He nodded.
The Tavern changed overnight.
Upstairs, warlords leaned on gold rails. Nobles in jeweled masks drank spirit wine, waiting.
Down below, commoners packed the floor with wide eyes and nervous energy.
Musicians tuned strange instruments. Dancers lit incense that smelled like dream-milk and burnt roses.
Then the doors opened and she walked in. She Didn't glide or float. But somehow… she didn't touch the floor.
And just for a second, Kale looked, he really looked. And at that time he forgot everything else. Including Mira.
Moment later, she began. The first note was soft, and melodic. Everyone felt lost.
But as she continued it became familiar. Kale froze mid action, his ears twitched.
That melody. That rhythm.
He had heard it before, years ago, under starlight, by a herb garden, as a girl laughed and sang without care in the temple yard.
Kale stared at the singer, something was wrong. Not her face, though it was still hidden, but her voice, the rise and fall of it... it was Mira. Every note, every breath, every shift in tone. Exactly as he remembered.
But Mira was dead, he had seen the ash.
Kale moved. Step by step, pushing through the crowd, eyes locked on her like a man walking through flame.
He was almost at the edge of the stage when the first guard spotted him.
"Stop right there!"
He didn't.
He stepped onto the first stairs, but rough hands grabbed him, yanking him back.
"Let go of me, now!" Kale shouted.
The crowd started to turn, confused murmurs rising.
Kale broke one arm free, slammed a fist into a guard's face. Another guard grabbed his collar. Kale twisted, teeth clenched, blood rushing in his ears.
"She's not who you think she is..."
Before he could finish, The music stopped. Every head turned.
The singer froze on stage and lowered her hand. She took a single step back.Then another.
Then vanished behind the curtain, trailing silence and silver.
That was what drew the Warlord's gaze.
From the upper tier, he rose, tall and draped in a dark gold cloak.
His voice piercing through the tavern "What is the meaning of this?"
One of the guards shouted, "Worker disturbance, my lord! He charged the stage!"
The Warlord's eyes locked onto Kale.
Kale, panting, stared back.
The Warlord raised one hand."Take him to the prisons."
The room scattered. The elegant tension shattered. Chairs screeched. Voices shouted. Servants ran to contain the surge. Nobles and warlords barked orders, some demanding answers, others covering their faces in alarm.
The silver magic of the moment was gone.
Dragged through it all, Kale didn't resist anymore. His eyes never left the stage.
Where she had stood. Where she had sung.
After few hours, a sound broke the silence and the cell door groaned open.
Light poured in, dim torchlight, but even that felt like a punch to the eyes.
A shadow stepped in. "Kale," the voice said.
Kale blinked once. "What bring you here?"
Rask stepped in, looked around at the cell like it offended him. "I pulled a few strings."
"They let you take me?" Kale asked, voice hoarse.
"Not really. But I owe your mother. And I can lie with a straight face when I have to."
Two guards helped Kale to his feet. They didn't speak. They led him to a room deeper underground. There was a fire burning and a table with two chairs.
Rask poured wine into a cup and slid it across to him. Kale didn't touch it.
"What happened up there ?" Rask asked.
He stayed quiet.
"You ruined a major night," Rask continued. "Important people were watching. The kind of people who don't forget faces. You know that, right?"
Still nothing.
Rask sighed. "You have to tell me what made you go after her. You never break rules. You barely talk. Then suddenly you're throwing guards like a madman."
Kale didn't answer the question. Instead, he asked one of his own.
"How can I meet her?"
Rask blinked. "What?"
"The singer," Kale said. His voice was steady now. "How can I meet her?"
Rask stared at him for a long time. Then he leaned back in his chair and let out a short laugh."You really want answers?"
Kale nodded once.
"Then here's how it works," Rask said, standing. "You want to see what's behind the Veil? You want to ask questions like that?"
He leaned close, eyes level with Kale's.
"Then become the Warlord of Reach."
Kale frowned. "What?"
"You heard me," Rask said. "That's the only person who gets to know everything. Who she is. Where she lives.
He turned toward the door.
"Until then, you're just a boy who caused a mess. Stay out of the way. Or next time, I won't be able to pull you out."
Rask left without another word.
Kale sat there in silence, staring at the fire.
Warlord. It sounded insane. He had no army. No name. No power.
But in that moment, with the sound of her voice still buried deep in his chest, Kale knew one thing, he wasn't going to stop.