A chill had settled over the ruins overnight, the cold biting through Kael's threadbare cloak as he trudged along a half-collapsed wall. The clamor of the city's past whispered in every creaking beam and shattered stone a soft, mournful echo of lives once lived. The sky, a muted gray, mirrored the heaviness that lay in his heart.
He wasn't sure where he was headed only that he needed to leave the ruins behind and find somewhere quieter, a place where he could think without the ghosts of the past hounding his every step. Yet the very nature of his existence, so tangled with ancient powers and grim prophecies, wouldn't let him rest. It was as if his footsteps were drawn by the same force that had bound him to the Rune-Stones.
As he rounded a broken archway, a small flicker of light caught his eye. Not the ominous glow of distant fires or magic, but something ordinary a candle in a window of an abandoned storefront. He paused, remembering moments from a time when life felt simpler. When he and his family would sit by such a light, talking about nothing and everything all at once.
In that brief moment of remembrance, his solitude was disturbed by a familiar laugh, soft and unguarded. Kael squinted into the dim light. Liora stood there, leaning casually against the frame, her eyes warm despite the cool night. The fire from her lantern danced over her features, softening the edges of fatigue and resolve.
"Couldn't sleep either, I see," she remarked, a gentle tease in her tone.
Kael managed a small smile the kind that didn't quite erase the worry in his eyes. "No, I just couldn't let the night win," he said, shrugging as if to dispel the weight of the darkness. "I ended up wandering, thinking about all the things I'm supposed to do… and nothing to do at all."
Liora stepped inside, inviting him into the relative warmth of the modest room. A battered table sat in the center, covered with a tattered map and scattered notes a reminder of their shared, desperate mission. The room was simple, hardly more than a haven from the cold, yet it carried the promise of quiet understanding.
"Every night feels the same sometimes," she confessed as she lit another candle, the flame flickering gently. "We all hide from our thoughts, aren't we? Even if we're trying to fight something much bigger than ourselves."
Her words, honest and unadorned, cut through the tension. Kael sat down, the chair creaking under his weight. "I keep wondering," he began slowly, "if all of this trying to save the world, wrestling with these ancient forces is just too much. That maybe I'm meant to fade into the background and let the heroes do their thing."
Liora's gaze held his, firm yet understanding. "You're the only one who can be the hero here, Kael," she said softly. "Not because of fate or prophecy, but because you care. And that care, that human part of you... it's what makes you strong."
He frowned, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "But sometimes I feel so small. Like my failures are etched into every scar I carry."
Her hand rested lightly on his arm a simple gesture, sincere and grounding. "Every scar tells a story," she murmured, "and every story builds the person you are. We all have our shadows. It's what we do with them that matters. Just listen to the quiet your own voice. That's your strength."
For a long moment, silence held the room a fragile truce between his doubts and her unwavering resolve. Outside, the wind picked up, rustling the forgotten leaves, a reminder of change that was inevitable even in silence.
Kael leaned back, his eyes drifting to the map spread across the table. "I'm not sure I know where to start," he admitted. "There's so much lost along the way…like a part of me, like a part of this old world."
Liora's smile was sad yet hopeful. "We start by picking up the pieces," she said. "We honor what was lost by daring to hope for what might be. I'll help you find that spark again you don't have to do it alone."
In that simple room, away from the grandeur and brutality of destiny, Kael felt the stirrings of hope a small ember of something profoundly human. It wasn't the thunderous call of power or the overwhelming charge of magic; it was, instead, the quiet affirmation that even in darkness, the human heart could find light.
And as the night deepened, so did their understanding a promise in whispered words, that sometimes the smallest acts of courage were the ones most worth fighting for.