Night descended upon Vanhart Estate like ink seeping across ancient parchment, consuming the last traces of sunset beneath its weight. Heavy clouds smothered the moon into obscurity, and only the faintest glow of lantern light lingered along the stone corridors.
The world felt still.
Too still.
As though holding its breath for the next movement of a long-unfolding design.
In the quiet wing of the manor, Kel sat upon the edge of his bed, his dark coat resting across the chair beside him. The room was lit only by a single oil lamp beside the window, its soft golden glow dancing across the frost-laced glass. Snow ticked gently against it.
He leaned forward, fingers interlaced, expression unreadable.
A knock, soft and composed.
"Enter," Kel said.
The door opened without creak.
Reina stepped inside.
She had removed her outer coat, wearing only a fitted midnight-blue tunic lined with thin silver threads. Her braid, usually tight, now rested loose across her right shoulder. A calm expression masked the silent turbulence beneath.
She shut the door behind her.
Then bowed lightly.
"You called for me, Young Master."
Kel didn't nod.
Nor did he gesturally invite her to sit.
He simply lifted his gaze—eyes dark as the winter night.
"We depart at dawn."
Reina's breath hitched—for a fraction of a second.
Her eyes flickered, composed.
"Next destination?"
Kel leaned back slightly, his fingers brushing the frame of the window.
"Northwest."
Reina's brow trembled before settling.
She exhaled softly.
"Northwest…" she repeated. "From here… that is nearly six months overland."
Kel turned his head, watching the faint reflection of his own eyes in the glass.
Snow fell silently outside.
"We won't be traveling overland."
He looked back at her.
Expression unchanging.
"We'll use the teleportation gate chain."
Reina's eyes widened—only slightly.
Those gates were rare, ancient constructs regulated heavily by the Empire. Using them required significant authority… or powerful backing.
Kel observed her reaction in complete silence.
She recovered swiftly.
"So we will depart tomorrow for the main city of the Northeast," she said, tone controlled, voice steady. "Then we teleport from there to a Northwest gateway node."
Kel nodded once.
"Correct."
A long pause.
Reina lowered her gaze.
"May I ask… why the sudden shift toward the Northwest?"
Kel's silence stretched.
Only the soft flickering of the oil lamp filled the space between them.
When he finally spoke, it was quiet.
Measured.
"This time… it isn't territory reform."
Reina looked up.
Kel's eyes held hers.
"It's preparation," he said. "Far ahead of what others can see."
She awaited more.
None came.
But she understood.
Silence settled over them again.
Something shifted subtly in the air—awareness of change, of paths diverging first with Landon's departure… and now again.
She spoke softly.
"Will Landon rendezvous with us once he secures the South?"
"No," Kel replied calmly.
Reina's gaze sharpened.
Kel continued.
"Each path has to be walked to its end. We cannot disrupt his momentum. When he returns, it will be as someone whose territory moves with him."
Reina inhaled slowly.
"Then what of ours?" she asked. "What do you expect from me in the Northwest?"
Kel rose from the bed slowly.
Not with ceremony.
But with the quiet certainty of someone who stood exactly where he intended to.
His shadow stretched against the lamplight.
He stood directly before her.
That close.
Reina didn't flinch.
Kel's voice, quiet as midnight on frozen waters.
"I expect you," he said, "to walk beside me. Not behind."
Her eyes widened.
Confusion.
Then realization.
Then stillness.
"…You think I can match what the Northwest holds?"
Kel reached out—not to touch—but with his hand raised beside her shoulder, measuring height, proximity.
"You have awakened a star that exists for those who survive and strike at unsought moments," he said. "What I ask is not that you match the Northwest."
He lowered his hand.
"It's that you learn to let the Northwest fear you."
Reina's breath stalled.
Her scrutiny softened.
Her voice, unsteady.
"…Then I will do so."
Kel stepped past her.
Stopping only once.
"Rest," he said simply. "We leave at dawn. You will need clarity for what comes."
Reina turned to look at him.
"Kel."
He paused.
"...Yes?"
Her eyes moved.
Just slightly.
"To walk beside you—" she said softly, "—means walking toward a sky that resists being broken."
Kel didn't smile.
But there was something in his eyes that shifted.
"The sky has resisted me all my life," he answered quietly. "Resistance is familiar."
Reina lowered her head.
Then lifted it once more.
"I will walk with you."
Kel nodded.
It was answer enough.
She left his room without further words.
As the door closed behind her, Kel stood in the quiet chamber.
A whisper stirred inside his mind.
Seiren.
"Your movements accelerate. They no longer follow the game's path."
Kel looked toward the window, eyes reflecting the muted snowfall.
"Good."
He lifted his hand slightly.
"Because I have never intended to play it."
Snow continued to fall.
Quiet.
Untouched.
But in the stillness, the world felt as though it had shifted by one infinitesimal degree—
A pivot unnoticed by most.
Except by those whose fates now aligned with his.