They didn't talk right away.
The road out of Feldenvost stretched long and quiet, stone slowly giving way to dirt and broken terrain. The city disappeared behind them, swallowed by distance and mist.
Ken walked near the center of the group.
That alone felt different.
Ishren was the first to break.
"So," he said casually, hands behind his head, "your dad was one of the Absolues."
Ken exhaled. "Looks like it."
Bran glanced at him. "You knew?"
"No," Ken answered honestly. "I knew he was strong. I didn't know he was that strong."
Maelis tilted her head. "That explains a lot."
Ken frowned. "Like what?"
"The way you don't hesitate," she said. "The way power settles around you instead of exploding."
Lyra slowed her pace until she was walking beside him.
"People like Hayden Lane don't disappear by accident," she said. "Especially not with their weapon."
Ken clenched his jaw. "That's what scares me."
Ishren smirked. "Yeah, well. Welcome to legendary bloodlines. First time?"
Ken shot him a look. "I'm not trying to replace him."
Bran shook his head. "Good. You won't."
Ken blinked. "What?"
Bran met his eyes. "You don't walk in someone's shadow by copying them. You do it by standing where they once stood."
That shut him up.
For a moment.
Then Lyra spoke again.
"You're not being sent because of who your father was," she said. "You're being sent because Ankalyon noticed you."
Ken nodded slowly. "And now they'll notice us."
Almost on cue—
Maelis stopped.
Hand raised.
"Movement," she said. "Ahead."
Bran grinned. "Finally."
---
The Ankalyon patrol didn't even realize what they were facing.
Six soldiers. Standard gear. Alert—but not ready.
They were laughing.
Wrong mistake.
Lyra moved first.
She didn't rush.
She stepped.
One soldier turned—
Too late.
Her blade flashed once.
Clean. Precise.
He dropped without a sound.
Ishren was already gone.
Lightning cracked once, twice—three bodies hit the ground before the thunder caught up.
"Too slow," he muttered.
Bran charged straight through the center.
Not fast.
Unstoppable.
A shield bash crushed armor and bone alike, sending one soldier flying into another. Both stayed down.
Maelis lifted one hand.
Shadows snapped tight around the last two soldiers, pinning them in place mid-motion.
Ken stepped forward.
No hesitation. No rush.
He raised his sword.
The air shifted.
Not loud. Not explosive.
Just… sharp.
One cut.
Both enemies fell apart like they'd never learned how to stand.
Silence followed.
Then Ishren whistled. "That was rude."
Bran laughed. "They didn't even get a turn."
Lyra wiped her blade and glanced at Ken.
"You didn't overdo it."
Ken looked down at his sword. "I didn't need to."
Maelis studied the fallen soldiers. "They were trained."
"Yeah," Ishren said. "Just not for us."
Ken exhaled.
Something felt right.
Not power.
Momentum.
He looked at his group.
At how easily it had flowed.
No orders. No panic. No wasted movement.
Perfect rhythm.
"If Ankalyon is watching," Ken said, "they just saw exactly what they're dealing with."
Lyra smirked. "Good."
She turned back toward the road ahead.
"Let them."
The bodies stayed where they fell.
The group kept moving.
And somewhere far ahead—
In the heart of enemy land—
Tyrandel waited.
Not knowing that five people were coming.
Not knowing they weren't coming to survive.
They were coming to take something back.
And this time—
They weren't holding back at all.
They moved for hours after that.
No rush. No pursuit.
Just distance.
The land slowly changed as they advanced deeper. Roads cracked. Vegetation thinned. The air felt drier, heavier, like it carried less room for mistakes. Ankalyon territory didn't announce itself with walls or banners. It crept in quietly.
Ken walked again near the center, sword resting against his shoulder.
Ishren kicked a stone ahead of him.
"You know," he said, "we just erased a patrol like it was nothing. That should scare me."
Bran snorted. "It should. It means they sent the wrong people."
Lyra glanced back. "Or they sent them to watch how we move."
Maelis nodded. "Ankalyon doesn't waste bodies unless it learns something from them."
Ken frowned. "And what did they learn?"
Ishren looked at him sideways. "That you're annoying."
Ken smiled faintly. "I can live with that."
They walked in silence for a bit longer, boots crunching against dry soil. Eventually, Bran spoke again.
"Alright," he said. "Since we're marching toward what's basically suicide, we should probably be clear on what everyone can do."
Ishren raised a finger. "I elect myself first. Lightning. Fast. Hits hard. Burns out faster than I like."
Lyra smirked. "Understatement."
He shrugged. "If it stops moving, I'm happy."
Maelis followed calmly. "Shadows. Not illusions. Not darkness spells. I give shape to what already exists where light isn't paying attention."
Ken glanced at her. "That's… unsettling."
"That's the point."
Bran tapped the rim of his shield with his knuckles. "I don't move much. I don't dodge. I stop things."
Lyra looked at him. "You don't stop things," she corrected. "You decide where they end."
Bran grinned. "See? Teamwork."
Lyra didn't speak right away.
When she did, it was quiet.
"Precision," she said. "Momentum. Reading intent before it becomes action."
Ken tilted his head. "You fight like you already know what they're going to do."
She shrugged. "Most people tell you without realizing."
Then all eyes turned to him.
Ken hesitated.
Not because he didn't know. Because saying it out loud made it real.
"I don't create power," he said finally. "I sense it. Movement. Impact. Sound. Anything that vibrates."
Ishren raised an eyebrow. "So… noise?"
Ken shook his head. "Not noise. Waves."
He lifted his sword slightly.
"When something moves, it sends ripples. Through air. Through stone. Through steel. I feel those ripples. I can follow them."
He tapped the flat of his blade once.
"And I can make my own."
The blade hummed softly.
Not loud. Not dramatic.
But sharp enough that everyone felt it.
"I can make anything vibrate," Ken continued. "My sword. The ground. The air around a strike. When the vibration matches the material…"
He trailed off, gesturing vaguely.
"It stops resisting," Lyra finished.
Ken nodded. "That's why it cuts."
Bran stared at the blade. "That's broken."
Ken winced. "I'm still learning. If I mess it up, it messes me up back."
Maelis studied him closely. "You don't overpower matter," she said. "You convince it to fail."
Ken didn't like how accurate that sounded.
They stopped briefly near a rocky outcrop, using it as cover while Ishren scouted ahead. The sky had begun to darken, clouds stretching thin like scars across the horizon.
"You scared?" Ishren asked casually when he returned.
Ken thought about it.
About Tyrandel. About the lance. About his father.
"Yes," he said honestly. "But not enough to stop."
Lyra nodded once. "Good. Fear that stops you gets people killed. Fear that walks with you keeps you alive."
Bran adjusted his shield. "And fear shared is lighter."
Ken looked at them.
At how calm they were. How certain.
"You know," he said, "if this goes wrong—"
Ishren interrupted. "When this goes wrong."
Ken sighed. "—I'm glad it's with you."
For once, Ishren didn't joke.
"Same," he said quietly.
They moved again.
Still not at Ankalyon. Still not at Tyrandel.
But closer.
With every step, the land felt tighter, more controlled. As if the world itself was paying attention now.
Ken adjusted his grip on his sword.
He could feel the ground responding faintly beneath his boots.
Not hostile.
Not welcoming.
Just… aware.
Whatever waited for them ahead, one thing was clear.
They weren't walking into the unknown anymore.
They were walking into something that had already started to listen back.