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Chapter 2
His words still echoed in the silence, like a promise etched into the air. Kael remained still for a moment, then let the blue glow dancing in his palms fade away. Coldness reclaimed the room.
He took a deep breath, as if to chase away the sting of mana. His body was already protesting—tense muscles, short breath—a harsh reminder that he hadn't yet mastered this new vessel.
Not today.
He left the chamber, passed through crumbled corridors, and climbed broken stairs until the morning light brushed his face. The dawn was pale, almost fragile, painting the hills with hesitant light.
Far ahead, the city. Its dark tiled roofs, straight walls. And at the gates, a small group clad in armor. The gleam of their golden insignias caught the sun: the Heralds of Dawn.
Kael pulled down his hood, adjusted the fold of his gray cloak, and began walking. Each step, slightly limping, reinforced the image of a weary traveler.
He finally reached the gates.
"Hey, you there!" called one of them—a tall man with silver hair tied back, a long sword strapped to his back. "You're from the old manor up there?"
Kael looked up, then quickly lowered his head, as if intimidated.
"I… fled from beasts in the hills," he answered in a soft voice. "I'm just looking for a safe place."
A brief silence, then the man nodded.
"I'm Sir Aelric. You're lucky, we're heading into town. Follow us."
Kael fell into step, keeping his hands deep in his cloak's pockets.
He listened. Their laughter, tales of battles, names exchanged. Details slipping into his mind and sticking there.
To an outside observer, he was merely a survivor seeking refuge among saviors.
To him, it was… something else.
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