The storm broke by midday, cold and unrelenting. Rain fell in thick, bitter drops as Kael trudged uphill through the muddy forest trail, carrying the girl wrapped tightly in his cloak. The smoke of Hallowford was long behind them now, swallowed by fog and trees.
The girl hadn't spoken since they'd left. Her small hands clutched the collar of Kael's tunic with the kind of grip that said she didn't believe the nightmare was over.
Kael didn't blame her.
He should've been used to the silence after a massacre. This wasn't the first time he'd walked away from burning homes, but it never felt easier.
He glanced down at her. "What's your name?"
She looked up with wide eyes, hesitant. "Lina."
"Lina," he repeated. "I'm Kael."
She nodded, though her gaze kept darting behind them. "Will they follow us?"
"They'll try," Kael said. "But we'll be gone before they find the trail."
The truth was, he had no idea how far the soldiers' reach went — or how they knew who he was. He hadn't used his family name in years. No one in Hallowford even knew he was a Vorrin. He'd left that name behind a long time ago, buried it like the dead.
Now it had come back to burn everything.
By dusk, they found shelter in the hollow trunk of an old oak, half-rotted but dry inside. Kael used dried moss and flint to start a small fire, feeding it twigs until the damp air around them felt less like death.
He set the scroll beside him on the dirt — the same one his father had given him before the fall of House Vorrin. He'd never opened it. It was sealed with wax that shimmered faintly in firelight, marked by the same rune carved into his sword.
Now, for the first time, it pulsed faintly.
Lina sat across the fire, arms wrapped around her knees, watching him.
Kael shifted. "You don't have to be afraid."
"I'm not," she said quietly. "You killed those men."
"They were going to hurt you."
"You killed them fast."
He didn't reply. What could he say? That something inside him had taken over — that the blade moved too naturally in his hand? That he'd felt something ancient stir when he struck?
He didn't want to frighten her more than she already was.
She looked at the sword resting beside him, half-covered in cloth. "That blade… it burned."
"Only when I fight," Kael said. "I don't know why."
Lina tilted her head. "It doesn't feel like a bad kind of burning."
That made him pause.
"What do you mean?"
She hesitated. "When you fought them, I wasn't scared. The sword… it felt like light. But not… clean light. Like a fire in the dark. A fire that knows what the dark is."
Kael stared at her. Lina blinked, suddenly unsure.
"…Sorry. That sounded weird."
Kael shook his head. "No. It didn't."
Later, after Lina had fallen asleep beside the fire, Kael sat alone with the scroll in his lap. The wax seal pulsed faintly, as though aware of what had happened in Hallowford.
He traced the rune with his thumb.
He'd never dared open it. The man who raised him — old Master Brell, once an archivist of the Forgotten Library — told him that magic scrolls sealed with runes could curse a man's mind or bind his soul. But Brell also taught Kael to read the ancient tongues.
And the rune on the wax didn't mean death.
It meant "return."
His fingers tightened.
He unwrapped the scroll.
The wax gave no resistance. It cracked open with a whisper of heat, and the parchment unfurled on its own.
The ink was glowing faint gold, shaped into lines of glyphs and old words — Vorrin words — and beneath them, a message in the common tongue, written in sharp, deliberate hand.
If you are reading this, Kael, then the world has burned again.You must find the others.The Flame is not dead — only scattered. Its ashes lie where the old blood still runs.Follow the path north. Seek the Hollow Star. Trust no crown, no order, and no mage.You carry the last key. And the Flame remembers you.
Kael let the scroll lower slowly to his lap. The fire cracked.
He could feel his heartbeat pounding like war drums.
The Flame is not dead.
Was that what his blood was reacting to? Was he... tied to this ancient power somehow? But how?
He glanced toward Lina, still curled against the hollowed trunk, then back to the forest beyond the firelight.
The world was changing. And whoever burned Hallowford wasn't finished.
He rewrapped the scroll and fastened it back beneath his cloak, just above the rune-sword. Then, as he stood to put out the fire, a distant sound caught his ear.
Snap.
A footstep.
His hand went instantly to his blade. He knelt and tapped Lina's shoulder.
She stirred, blinking sleep from her eyes.
"Shhh," he whispered. "Don't move."
Another step.
Too light for soldiers in full plate. Too steady for an animal.
Kael moved silently to the edge of the hollow, peering into the forest. The trees stood still, raindrops tapping gently from their leaves. Then—
A voice.
"Didn't think I'd find anything but wet crows in this gods-forsaken forest."
Kael's blade was half drawn when the figure stepped into view.
A woman — maybe early twenties — in a dark grey cloak lined with feathers, bow slung across her back, two daggers at her hips. Her ears… pointed.
An elf.
She raised an eyebrow as she spotted him, but her hands didn't go to her weapons.
"Well," she said dryly. "You don't look like a crow. Too broody."
Kael didn't lower his sword.
She gave a theatrical sigh. "Look, I'm not here to rob you. If I were, you'd already be dead. Probably."
"You followed us?"
"No," she said, stepping slightly closer, palms raised. "I saw the smoke from the valley. Village burned. No bodies left — just armor. Black armor. I've been tracking that kind for weeks."
Kael didn't move.
"And you?" she added, voice turning curious. "You've got that look — the kind people get when they've seen something they can't unsee. Let me guess: they were looking for you?"
He narrowed his eyes. "Who are you?"
"Name's Sera Whitethorn. Professional thief, part-time hunter of bastards, and… recently very interested in whoever's setting fire to half the realm." Her tone sharpened. "So if you're part of that… I'm about to regret not gutting you when I had the chance."
Kael didn't answer.
Behind him, Lina peeked around his cloak.
Sera raised an eyebrow at the sight of the girl.
"…Okay," she muttered. "Not a war criminal. Got it."
Kael finally sheathed his blade. "What do you want?"
Sera gave a half-smile. "Same thing as you, I imagine: answers."
Then her gaze flicked to the sword at Kael's side. Her expression changed. Just for a second.
"That's not ordinary steel," she murmured. "Haven't seen runes like that since... never mind."
Kael caught the shift in her tone.
"You know something."
She shrugged. "I know a lot of somethings. You want answers, Vorrin, you'll have to earn them."
He stiffened.
She grinned. "You didn't say your name, but they were shouting it while they burned your village. Loud enough for the crows to learn it."
The fire between them crackled. Kael felt the weight of the scroll beneath his cloak.
Sera's eyes glinted. "So. You heading north?"
Kael's hand rested on the scroll. He nodded.
"Good," she said. "Then we're going the same way."