The roses in the courtyard trembled—but there was no wind.
Scarlet stood beside Evan, arms crossed tightly over her chest. She hadn't slept. Not truly. Every night this week, she had dreamt Kale's voice again and again.
But it wasn't a dream.
"Seven days. Then I'll be whole again. The bindings finish today. Power should flow like before."
"This world is quieter now. I wonder if the gods have grown lazier."
His thoughts still came. Clear. Private. As if whispered directly into her soul.
And every whisper made her blood run colder.
Now it was the seventh day.
Evan handed her a tea cup with that same casual smile he always wore. "Have you noticed Kale's been avoiding everyone again?" he asked, tone playful, like a concerned friend. "I'm beginning to think he's allergic to people."
Scarlet took the cup but didn't drink. "He's always like that."
"True," Evan said lightly. "But there's a difference between brooding and plotting."
That made her glance at him—but his smile didn't falter. He was too careful. Too polished.
Scarlet turned her head toward the eastern gardens. That's where she last saw Kale this morning, striding toward the hills behind the estate. No servants had followed. No guards. He had said nothing.
Just walked into the mist alone.
"If I don't return, it means I underestimated it again."
There it was. His voice again.
Not spoken.
Heard.
In her mind.
She clenched her fingers around the cup.
"Still fragmented. But stable. Good enough to test it."
Scarlet felt her throat tighten.
Something was happening.
Right now.
Kale stood at the edge of a cliff miles away from the estate—on sacred ground that hadn't felt a mortal footstep in centuries.
The sky above him had torn like paper soaked in ink. A rip in reality. A god was coming through.
He rolled his shoulders once, the sigils on his back flickering beneath his skin like lightning caged in flesh.
"Last time this one vaporized half a kingdom when I hesitated."
The sky howled. The wind died.
Scarlet flinched as her cup clinked against the stone bench.
"Not this time."
Kale vanished.
The rip sealed itself shut a moment later.
No thunder. No flash. No tremor.
But Scarlet gasped.
Because she heard it.
"Done. Thirty-two seconds. My timing's better. Power's cleaner. Soul doesn't scream like it used to."
She stood slowly, eyes scanning the horizon. But there was nothing. Not a flicker of light. Not a sound.
Evan arched an eyebrow. "You okay? You look like you saw a ghost."
Scarlet forced her shoulders to relax. "I just remembered something I forgot."
He tilted his head, unconvinced. "Want to talk about it?"
"No," she said quickly.
"Body's holding. I didn't need to burn any of the backup cores. That's new."
She winced. It was like trying to listen to someone talk through a storm inside your head—but only when they wanted to be alone.
Kale's voice wasn't broadcasting.
He was thinking.
And only she could hear it.
Ten minutes later, Kale returned to the estate through the main gates, walking casually like he'd been on a morning stroll.
His black shirt was spotless. His boots showed no signs of ash or divine blood. His expression, as usual, was unreadable.
But Scarlet looked at him as if seeing a god disguised as a man.
"I'll need stronger opponents soon. The weak ones aren't telling me anything new."
He passed her.
Didn't speak.
Didn't glance.
But the thoughts kept echoing.
"Scarlet wouldn't believe me if I told her. No one ever does."
And she stood there, unable to breathe.
Because the truth wasn't just that Kale was powerful.
It was that he had fought something unseen—
And no one else in the world even knew it happened.