Their footsteps were quiet against the damp stone.
Kel walked at the front.
The misted exit of Scarder Lake stretched ahead—a slow-opening veil of silver-grey that swayed like curtain threads stirred by distant breath. The four of them moved through it carefully, but with certainty now. No hesitation remained from the curse. No silent dread of collapse trailed his spine.
His breath moved smoothly. Each inhale, each exhale, calm and steady.
No pain.
The thought still felt foreign.
As though he had awoken in someone else's body.
Behind him, Reina walked with silent grace, spear resting diagonally across her back. Her gaze lingered on Kel's back for a moment longer than usual, then shifted forward. Landon moved in his usual place—the quiet anchor. Sera followed, fingertips brushing the edge of her cloak, mind still caught between the lake's echo and the heartbeat within her chest that no longer demanded a price.
No one spoke.
The silence felt different now.
Not heavy.
Not oppressive.
Like the hush after a storm.
Kel stepped through a stretch of lighter mist. A breeze passed across his cheek, carrying the faintest scent of mineral-rich water.
The last breath of Scarder Lake.
He was about to continue walking.
But something tugged softly at him.
Not force.
Not instinct.
A question that had waited too politely until the right moment.
His left hand tightened ever so slightly at his side.
His boots halted.
Reina glanced at him.
Landon also stopped.
Even Sera paused.
Kel turned his head one last time toward the lake.
He did not speak aloud.
Instead, his thoughts shaped into words that moved like a whisper through still waters.
"…Can you, at least, tell me your name?"
He did not form the sentence like a request from a warrior to his ally.
He did not frame it like a command from a wielder to a contracted entity.
It was closer… to a plea.
Soft.
Honest.
Respectful.
If fate changed… then perhaps even names once bound in silence can awaken.
There was no immediate answer.
Only stillness.
The lake remained behind the mist veil—unseen, but undeniably present.
Then—
The air shifted.
Mist rippled.
Not around his body.
Inside him.
Like the faint tremor of water remembering how to respond to a stone dropped long ago.
A voice touched the back of Kel's mind.
Not sound.
Not language.
Presence.
…You ask for what mortals rarely consider.
It felt like thought echoing under frozen water.
Kel's fingers loosened.
He did not reply, simply waited.
They take power. They seek salvation, the voice continued, cool as moonlight over frost. Few ask for my name.
Names hold weight, Kel thought.
Mist shimmered faintly around his boots.
After a long second, the voice returned.
Not grand.
Not ceremonial.
Quiet.
"…Long ago, when this lake first learned to breathe, I was called Sairen."
His eyes widened.
The mist brushed the edges of his vision, as if nodding.
"A name long unused. Spoken once again."
It was a soft voice now. Not sad. Not joyous. Something in between. Like a memory allowed to drift to the surface without fear of breaking.
Kel exhaled slowly.
His lips moved.
"...Sairen."
The name appeared just above the water in his mind's eye—soft white letters dissolving like ice melting upon contact.
He felt a subtle warmth beneath his sternum. Not healing. Not flame.
Acknowledgment.
Sairen… he thought again, quietly. Thank you.
For a heartbeat—
The mist around his shoulders curled as if brushing against him.
Then the presence receded.
"…Walk well, Kel von Rosenfeld."
Her words rippled softly through his chest.
"When you breathe, I will watch. When your heartbeat falters, I will listen. And when you reach waters farther than this… call me again."
The connection dimmed gently.
Silence returned.
But now, it felt like the kind of silence that follows understanding.
Kel's expression softened.
Only a little.
Only enough that Reina saw it and paused briefly—brows faintly raised. Landon noticed the stillness in his posture, and the way he resumed walking a fraction more upright. Sera, watching from behind, felt something shift without needing explanation.
Kel faced forward again.
He walked.
Mist parted.
Snow-chilled air from beyond the cave touched their skin.
They were leaving the lake.
But the lake now walked, in some small way, with him.
They continued up through the tunnel, footsteps in measured rhythm. The cold wind outside grew clearer with each pace, bringing back the scent of distant pine and snow. Their silhouettes stretched through dull light.
It was Reina who broke the silence first.
"Are you ready," she asked softly, "to return to the world now that it will finally allow your presence?"
Kel did not slow.
"I was never ready," he replied. "I'm simply alive enough to keep walking."
Reina stared at him for a heartbeat, then nodded.
"That is enough," she said.
They stepped into the exiting mist.
Snow began to fall again.
And Kel von Rosenfeld—the boy who was supposed to die in Chapter One—walked into dawn with a future.
A name whispered in his mind like lingering moonlight.
Sairen.
not with a footstep,
not with breath,
but with the quiet acceptance of a name never meant to be spoken again.
Until now.