The wind had stilled.
Smoke curled over the battle-worn ridge, but the Hollow Lords were gone — for now. Kael and Lyra stood in the wreckage, breathing like survivors. Not victors.
Above them, the sky was unnaturally clear. The kind of clear that meant something was watching.
Kael sheathed his sword. His fingers trembled.
"I saw it in his eyes," he said. "He didn't want to kill me."
Lyra placed a hand on his chest. "But he still tried."
"That's the problem," Kael whispered. "He's not gone. He's waiting."
They found a cave to rest in, hidden beneath a jut of black crystal. Lyra traced runes around the entrance, whispering wards to keep them safe.
Inside, Kael sat by a shallow pool of moonlight and silence.
"He called you weak," Lyra said gently.
"I am."
She knelt beside him. "No, Kael. Weak is not breaking. Weak is never feeling at all."
Their fingers laced. Slowly.
Deliberately.
"You keep choosing me," he said.
"I'll keep doing it," she answered. "Even if the stars fall."
Far above them, past the clouds, a shape hovered.
A figure draped in a cloak of constellations. Skin pale like starlight, eyes holding galaxies.
They watched the bond below with silent interest.
"She chose the flame," the Watcher murmured. "Interesting."
Another voice crackled behind them — harsh, metallic, ancient.
"They cannot reach the Citadel. The bond must break before it ascends."
The Watcher smiled faintly. "Then we shall test them."
They extended one hand — and the stars dimmed around it.
A new trial had begun.
Back in the cave, Kael jolted upright.
His chest burned.
Lyra gripped his hand. "What is it?"
"I don't know," he said through gritted teeth. "But someone just… touched our bond."
She went still. "Touched it?"
"Like they were searching for a lock," Kael said, "and found a door."
The fire between them sparked anew — not out of passion, but alarm.
Their bond wasn't just power anymore.
It was a key.
And others now knew it existed.