They camped in silence that night.
Not the warm kind from before.
This one was frayed. Brittle.
Lyra didn't ask Kael what the Wraithforged meant when it spoke of the "true name." But the question hovered in the air between them like fog refusing to lift.
Kael paced near the dying fire, every step tight, measured — like a beast holding back instinct.
Lyra watched him from across the flame.
"You're not sleeping," she said.
He didn't look at her. "Neither are you."
She stood. Crossed the space between them.
"Tell me," she whispered. "Whatever you're hiding — I need it now, Kael. Before it's too late."
He flinched.
Then slowly, he nodded.
And spoke a name into the night.
"Kaelarion."
The fire hissed.
Lyra blinked. "What is that?"
His eyes burned with old grief.
"It's the name I was given by the gods. Before I was unmade and remade into this."
She inhaled sharply. "You're not just a soldier."
Kael shook his head.
"I was a prince of flame. One of the four marked by the Hollow Flame. Chosen to end the war between stars. But when I refused to sacrifice a bonded one — they shattered me. Broke my name. Buried it."
His voice trembled now.
"I thought if I buried it too, I could pretend. Could start over. Be him. Just Kael. Just a soldier."
Lyra took a step back.
"You lied to me."
"I protected you," he snapped. "The moment they knew who I was, they'd come for you. And now they will."
"But I deserved the truth."
Kael's hands clenched. "Would it have changed how you touched me? How you trusted me?"
"I don't know," she said honestly.
And that was worse.
They didn't touch that night.
They lay near each other, but not close enough.
The bond was quiet. Strained.
And in the distance, lightning forked through a sky with no storm.
The Lords of Hollow Flame had heard his name.
And they were awake.