Morning came late to Eirn Valley, sliding over the rooftops like someone unsure if they were welcome. Rain still clung to the wood from the night before, dripping in slow, uneven beats. Smoke from the forges rose through the cold air—thin, tired, and familiar.
Kael Hayden lifted his hammer for what felt like the hundredth time since sunset.
Clang.
The sound cracked across the small forge, scattering sparks against his boots. His arms protested, but muscle memory pushed him through. At fifteen, Kael was already broad-shouldered, already strong—but strength didn't erase exhaustion. It just hid it.
The forge door scraped open.
"Kael," his mother's voice called. "That's enough."
Seris Hayden stood at the entrance, wrapped in her shawl as if holding herself together with nothing more than cloth and stubbornness. The morning fog curled around her feet. For a heartbeat, something under her shawl glinted—a faint jade glow—before it slipped out of sight.
"You are working late night again," she said, trying for sternness and landing closer to worry."You'll ruin your hands before the academy recruiter even sees you."
Kael exhaled, long and slow. "Just wanted to finish this one."
"At least eat something before. The blade will still be there after dinner."She managed a small smile. "You, however, might not."
He gave in, quenched the steel, and followed her out of the forge.
Their cottage sat against the mountain's slope, half-braced by stone and half-surrendered to years of repairs. Smoke curled from the chimney, mixing with the scent of herbs Seris always hung above the door. Inside, warmth wrapped around them, carrying the earthy smell of broth and dried leaves.
Seris set two bowls on the table. "Eat."
Kael obeyed, though the soup tasted heavier than usual. Maybe it was the fatigue; maybe it was the way Seris's hands trembled when she reached for her own bowl.
"You're coughing again," he said quietly.
"It'll pass."
"It never does."
She didn't answer immediately. Her gaze dropped to the jade pendant resting against her collarbone. It was small—barely the size of a coin—but Kael had seen the way she touched it when she thought he wasn't looking. As if it carried weight far heavier than stone.
"You sound like your father," she murmured, almost to herself.
Kael swallowed. "You never tell me anything about him."
"There isn't much worth telling."Her voice tightened.
"Too curious for his own good. Too proud. Thought himself equal to the heavens."
Kael tried to laugh. "Maybe I got that from him."
Seris's spoon stilled.
"Don't," she whispered. "It cost him everything."
The fire popped softly in the hearth. Outside, someone's rooster crowed, late and lazy. The village waking felt like a different world from the quiet tension in their cottage.
Kael set down his bowl. "I had the dream again."
She froze.
He continued, softer. "The same voice as last time. Calm.As if it was calling my name --like it knew me."
Seris didn't move.
"And when I woke," Kael added, "my skin felt like it was burning."
For a moment, she said nothing. Then she forced herself to stir the pot that didn't need stirring.
"You work too much," she said. "Dreams can twist tired minds."
"You heard me, right?" he asked. "It's the third time this week."
He let out a frustrated breath."You always say that. Every time I try to talk about it—about him—you avoid it."
Silence.
The pendant at her throat flickered once—faint, but unmistakable.
"Eat, Kael," she said, her voice thin around the edges. "Please."
"But—Why can't you ever just tell me the truth?""
The jade at her neck pulsed once — soft, green-white, like a heartbeat answering his anger. Seris's
hand flew to it instinctively, as if afraid it might speak for her.
"Nothing good comes from chasing old stories," she said too quickly.
Kael frowned, but before he could push further, the air trembled.
The tension hung like a wire between them.
He just looked at her, realizing in that moment how much he didn't know about the woman across the table — her past, her scars, the way she flinched when he mentioned his dream or his father.
The floor moved.
Kael blinked.No—it wasn't just the floor. The air itself vibrated, a low hum crawling up through the wooden boards and into his spine.
His spoon rattled.A cup on the shelf trembled.
"Mother…?"
Seris's face drained of color.
"No," she whispered. "Not now."
The vibration deepened—slow, rhythmic, almost like a heartbeat rising from beneath the mountain.
Kael pressed a hand to his chest. "It—hurts—"
Heat bloomed under his collarbone, faint at first, then sharper, rising like steam trapped inside bone. He gasped and clawed at his tunic.
Something Light—gold and alive—was spreading through the veins of his arm, beneath his skin. curling toward his heart.
"Kael!" Seris rushed to him, nearly tripping over her chair. "Listen to me. Breathe."
"I—I can't—"
The glow spread, crawling along the veins of his arm in jagged lines. His pulse thundered in his ears, each beat louder, heavier, wrong.
The air thickened.The fire in the hearth bent toward him, drawn as if by invisible breath. Loose herbs lifted from their strings and floated, weightless.
"Mother—what's happening to me?!"
Seris grabbed his wrist. Her hand glowed—soft, steady—and Kael felt a pressure, a warmth, something trying to hold him together.
Her voice trembled."Kael… look at me."
"Breathe," she commanded. "Slow down. Fight it."
"I can't—what is it?"
He tried.His vision blurred.The cottage tilted, the walls warping as if heat rippled through them.
"This shouldn't be happening," Seris whispered, more to herself than to him. "Not yet. Not this soon."
Another pulse hit him.
BOOM.
The sound wasn't outside. It was inside him.
Dust fell from the rafters. A bowl cracked on the table. The windowpane buzzed violently.
The glow beneath his skin flared—bright, painful, alive.
"Mother—!"
Seris's eyes reflected the light crawling across him. Her fear was raw, unhidden.
"Kael," she whispered, voice breaking."Your blood… is waking."