The wind had stopped breathing.
The air above the ruins felt suspended, as if time itself was holding its lungs. Even the shadows hesitated — stretching long across the broken stones like claws unsure of what to grasp. Kael stood at the edge of the desolate plain, his chest heaving, his eyes locked on the horizon where thunder stitched the sky into jagged wounds.
The ground trembled. A sound — deep, older than language — rippled through the bones of the earth. Kael's hands clenched around the hilt of his sword, still smeared with the ash of the last battle. The sigil etched into his wrist pulsed once, faintly, as though warning him: You shouldn't be here.
But it was too late. The Watcher had already awakened.
A low, resonant hum rose from beneath the ruins — not a growl, not a roar — something far beyond the voice of any beast. The air shimmered, light bending around a colossal form that began to tear its way out from beneath the ancient stone. Dust cascaded like rain. The Behemoth's wings unfolded — immense, black as voidglass — each beat shaking the fractured sky.
Kael stepped back. For a heartbeat, he wasn't sure whether it was terror or awe that rooted him. Lightning forked downward, striking the Behemoth's crown — and it did not flinch. Instead, its many eyes opened, glimmering like dying stars. Each one looked directly into Kael's soul.
"Watcher of the Fractured Sky…" he whispered. "You were supposed to be sealed."
The creature's answer came in a language of thunder — not words, but intent. You broke the seal, bearer of flame. You called me with your defiance.
Kael felt the weight of it in his skull, pressing, twisting — every nerve screaming. The sword in his hand began to vibrate, reacting to the creature's energy. Blue sparks crawled across his arm. The sigil on his wrist burned like molten metal.
He charged.
Lightning burst beneath his feet. The first strike met the Behemoth's shadow — and for an instant, he thought he'd landed a hit. But the Watcher moved with impossible grace, its massive claw sweeping aside the blow, the force throwing Kael into the shattered stones.
The impact sent dust spiraling upward. He staggered to his knees, coughing blood. The Behemoth's eyes blazed again, and the wind screamed, a cyclone forming around them. Kael lifted his head, hair whipping across his face, and shouted into the storm —
"I didn't come to die!"
He raised his sword high, and for one terrible moment, his entire body was engulfed in light. The ground exploded as Kael unleashed his power — the same power that had nearly destroyed him before. The Behemoth roared, wings folding inward like a shield against the blast.
When the light faded — both of them still stood. But Kael's vision blurred, his knees buckled. His energy was bleeding out of him, pouring into the ruins.
The Watcher tilted its massive head. It did not attack again. It only whispered through the trembling air:
You carry her flame… and her curse.
Kael froze. His hand trembled. Mira's name almost escaped his lips — but before he could speak, the creature's wings expanded once more. A gale of shadow and thunder swept across the land, and the Behemoth rose into the clouds — vanishing into the fractured heavens.
Kael fell to his knees, gasping, lightning crawling faintly under his skin. His sword lay beside him, humming with residual energy. Above him, the clouds slowly began to close, the wound in the sky healing itself.
He whispered hoarsely,
"Watcher… what did you mean… her curse?"
The only reply was the fading echo of thunder — and the faint whisper of a name the storm carried away.
When Kael awoke, the world was still.
The storm had passed, but the air still shimmered with the residue of power — as though reality hadn't yet remembered how to breathe again. The ruins around him were half-buried in ash and silver dust. His sword lay a few feet away, half-embedded in the ground, humming softly with a heartbeat that wasn't his.
He tried to sit up; pain lanced through his ribs. His body felt hollow — the kind of emptiness left after a flame burns too long.
The Watcher's words echoed in his skull: You carry her flame… and her curse.
Mira.
The memory of her voice — her touch before she vanished — struck him harder than any blow. He closed his eyes. For a moment, he could almost hear her laughter between the rustle of the wind.
But then the silence returned, heavy and merciless.
A faint golden light glimmered over the horizon — the first sunrise he had seen in what felt like forever. Yet the colors were wrong: too bright, too fractured, as if pieces of another sky were bleeding through. The storm had changed the world.
Kael dragged himself to his feet. His coat was torn, his armor cracked, his hands blackened with soot. He picked up his sword, feeling it vibrate with a pulse that matched the rhythm of his heart. The blade's edge shimmered faintly blue — Mira's color.
"Are you still with me?" he whispered. The wind did not answer, but the sword glowed a little brighter, as if acknowledging the question.
He took a step forward — and felt the ground shift. A new fissure had split open, running like a vein of glass through the earth. Inside it, light pulsed — alive, breathing. He knelt and touched the edge. The warmth that met his fingers was familiar.
Mira's energy.
The Watcher hadn't destroyed her — it had sealed something.
A remnant.
A clue.
Kael's gaze hardened.
If the Watcher had spoken truth, then Mira's curse wasn't an ending — it was a path. And somewhere beyond this broken dawn, that path waited for him to follow.
He turned toward the horizon where the storm clouds still lingered, black against the newborn light. His cloak fluttered in the cold wind, his eyes burning with quiet resolve.
"Then I'll find you," he said, his voice rough but certain. "No matter what curse binds us."
As he walked into the distance, the ashes behind him stirred — faint shapes whispering in the dust. The Watcher's eyes opened briefly in the clouds, watching, silent.
And then they faded with the rising sun.