The camp of the Moon-Forged was nothing like Kael expected.
Hidden deep within a circle of blackened trees, it pulsed with quiet tension. Flames crackled in open pits, casting orange light on tents made from stitched hides. Every face that turned to Kael held the same look—wary, guarded, and waiting for a reason to strike.
He felt eyes burning holes through him as he followed the elder through the maze of torches. Aria had been taken gently—though quickly—into a stone hut ringed with charms and herbs. Lyra had gone with her.
Now he was alone.
The elder stopped near a fire and gestured to a flat stone. "Sit."
Kael obeyed.
Silence settled. A boy beat a slow rhythm on a drum. Somewhere, metal hissed as it was hammered. Wolves circled the outer ring of the camp, quiet as ghosts.
"You want her saved," the elder said.
Kael nodded. "Yes."
"And you carry a shard bound to blood and ruin."
Kael's jaw clenched. "I didn't ask for it."
"No one ever does," the old man replied. "But now it's part of you. And things like that… they never come free."
Kael looked him dead in the eye. "I don't care what it costs. Just save her."
A flicker of something passed across the elder's face—pity? No. Something colder.
"She's fighting the light of the Veil," the elder said. "It's not just fever. It's memory, truth, everything the world tries to bury. It's clawing at her mind."
Kael's hands curled into fists. "So help her fight it."
The elder stood, walked toward the flames. He held out a hand, and a woman passed him a curved blade.
"You will take the Trial," he said, turning back. "Tonight."
Kael rose. "What kind of trial?"
"To see if your will can carry what your blood holds."
"And if I fail?"
The elder met his gaze. "Then your soul joins the forest."
A hush fell across the camp. Even the wolves seemed to pause.
Kael took a breath. Deep. Centered.
"Then let's begin."
They led him into the dark—far from the firelight.
No weapons. No armor. Just his name, his breath, and the shard pulsing beneath his ribs.
The trees thickened. The air grew colder.
Then they left him.
Alone.
A whisper curled through the leaves.
"Kael…"
He turned sharply. No one.
Then another voice. Softer. Closer.
"You let her burn…"
Kael's breath caught. It was Aria's voice.
He took a step forward—and the trees shifted.
He stood now in the ruins of the temple again. Blood on the floor. Aria's body still. Her eyes open and empty.
"No," he whispered. "This isn't real."
But it felt real. The smell of burnt flesh. The sting of smoke in his eyes.
Then her mouth moved.
"You were too slow."
Kael stumbled back.
A mirror appeared behind her—shattered, its pieces floating in the air.
"You think you can protect her," the voice whispered, no longer Aria's. "But you're the reason she's dying."
Kael clenched his fists. "Get out of my head."
The mirror fragments flew at him.
He ducked, rolled, scrambled—bleeding from a shallow cut along his cheek.
Then a figure stepped from the shadow.
Tall. Cloaked. Wearing his face.
"Truth is," it said, "you want the power. You'd trade her to keep it."
"No," Kael growled.
The figure lunged.
Kael struck back—flesh meeting flesh. Blow after blow. The fight was savage, wordless, and fast.
Finally, Kael slammed the double's head into a tree root, chest heaving.
The forest shifted again.
This time, Aria stood whole—alive, eyes glowing softly. She reached for him.
He stepped forward.
She vanished.
He was alone again.
Then came the voice. Deep, firm.
"You passed."
The trees melted away, and Kael fell to his knees, soaked in sweat, blood in his mouth.
The elder appeared once more.
"You carry the curse. But you chose her over power. That was enough."
Kael said nothing.
He only looked to the sky, where the moon should have been and wasn't.