The wind was colder tonight.
Kael Ardentis stood at the edge of the stone balcony, his crimson cloak fluttering behind him like the last thread of hope before the storm. From this height, he could see the blackened forest sprawling out like a sleeping beast. The moon hung low, casting a pale silver across the treetops, but even its light seemed hesitant tonight—like it too feared what was coming.
The castle behind him was still. Silent. But Kael had learned the hard way that silence never meant safety.
He gripped the edge of the balcony. Not in fear—but in pressure. Pressure to protect what remained. Pressure to hold himself together.
So much had already slipped through his fingers.
"Kael," came a soft voice from the shadows.
He didn't turn. He didn't have to. He knew her footsteps. The sound of her breath. The quiet magic that followed her like frost.
Aurelia stepped beside him, her long white hair catching the moonlight, her expression caught between worry and quiet strength. "You haven't slept."
Kael's jaw clenched. "Could you? With what's coming?"
She looked at him, searching his face. "You're not alone in this. You never were."
His voice was low. "It's not about being alone. It's about being ready."
Aurelia hesitated. Then, gently, she touched his arm. "You've carried this weight since the day you took up that sword. But even blades need rest, Kael. Or they shatter."
He turned finally, eyes like burning coals under the moonlight. "I can't afford to break. Not now."
Before she could respond, the horns blew.
Low. Loud. Distant—yet terrifyingly close.
The alarm.
Kael's hand moved instantly, drawing the Crimson Blade. Its scarlet glow pulsed in the dark like a heartbeat.
"They're here," he said.
Aurelia nodded. "Then let's finish this."
---
The castle exploded into motion.
Soldiers ran through the corridors, armor clanking, orders shouted from every direction. On the outer walls, torches blazed to life as archers lined up, drawing their bows. Kael moved with practiced grace, his cloak trailing like fire behind him. Aurelia walked at his side, her magic already swirling around her fingertips like frost smoke.
Atop the battlements, the enemy was visible now—an army cloaked in black and red, like shadows with steel. Their banners bore no crest. No identity. Only destruction.
"This isn't a raid," Kael said coldly. "It's an execution."
"Then we rewrite the ending," Aurelia replied.
As the first wave surged forward, Kael leapt into the fray.
The Crimson Blade moved like a living flame, cutting through metal and flesh with terrifying precision. Kael was faster than ever—his movements fluid, his strikes unforgiving. For a moment, he wasn't a man. He was a storm.
Beside him, Aurelia's magic erupted—icy spears shattering armor, walls of frost rising and collapsing like crashing waves. She fought not with desperation, but with clarity. A calm fury. The kind born from love.
But the enemy kept coming.
Wave after wave. Relentless.
Kael's breath grew heavier, his muscles screaming from the strain. Blood trickled down his arm—he didn't even know when he'd been cut. It didn't matter.
And then, out of the chaos… him.
The assassin.
Clad in black, face hidden, moving like a shadow with a blade of his own—one Kael recognized.
The same man who had ambushed his father. The same assassin who had left Kael for dead in the burning village six years ago.
Kael's vision narrowed.
He didn't wait.
He charged.
Steel met steel. Sparks flew.
Their duel was a storm inside the battle, isolated yet surrounded. The assassin was fast—inhumanly so. But Kael was faster now. Stronger. Sharper. Not just because of training.
Because of purpose.
But it wasn't enough.
A sudden sting—deep across Kael's ribs.
He staggered.
"KAEL!" Aurelia screamed.
The assassin moved to strike again—but this time Kael spun with fury, driving his blade upward in a brutal arc.
The Crimson Blade sank into flesh.
The assassin collapsed.
Breathing hard, Kael turned to see Aurelia fighting two more soldiers alone. Her magic flickered—she was weakening.
Without thinking, Kael threw himself forward, cutting down both enemies in a single, roaring strike.
They were surrounded.
But not broken.
Not yet.
---
By dawn, the battlefield was a mess of ash, blood, and broken steel.
The enemy had fallen back. For now.
Kael stood at the center of the courtyard, breathing heavily, his blade lowered. Around him, his people tended to the wounded, their faces exhausted—but alive.
Aurelia approached, a cut across her cheek, her dress torn, but her spirit burning as bright as ever.
"You're bleeding," she whispered.
Kael glanced down. "Not as much as the bastard I took down."
She smirked. Then, more softly, "You scared me."
Kael looked at her. Really looked at her.
"I thought I'd lost you," he said.
She stepped closer. "You won't. Not unless you let go first."
He exhaled, the tension of the night finally cracking. He sheathed his sword, and for the first time in what felt like forever, he allowed himself to lean against her.
Just for a moment.
Two souls against the world.