The war room emptied hours ago, but I remain seated.
The Pyro Gnosis rests on the table before me, dim now, its ember glow subdued beneath reinforced glass and Fatui sigils. But I still feel it, like a whisper just behind my ribs. Not power. Not threat.
A pull.
I've completed my duty. Brought the flame back to the ice. No one questions me. No one dares.
But I question myself.
Each day since my return, I feel more like a shadow pretending to be whole. This body walks, commands, intimidates. But there are moments—small, jarring fractures—when I catch my reflection in frost-covered glass and see a stranger beneath the helm.
And then I remember Natlan.
Not the battlefield. Not the mission. The people. The rawness of their lives. The way they shouted when they spoke, like they feared being forgotten. How they laughed, even in pain. There was something in them that I don't find here in Snezhnaya, something that reminds me of… before.
Before Capitano.
Before the silence.
I rise from the table.
My armor groans in protest—it's always been too heavy, even for this body. I leave the Gnosis locked behind layers of seals and political chains. It has no use for me now. Or perhaps… I have no use for it.
I inform the palace attendants I will be gone. They don't ask where.
They assume it's for war.
Let them.
Two weeks later, I return to Natlan.
But not to the volcanoes. Not to the villages where banners burned and blood marked the soil.
I go farther. To the outskirts. To the edge of where the Fatui's map fades and the land begins to breathe freely again.
There, I remove the gauntlets. The cloak. The mask.
For the first time in memory, I feel the sun on my face.
The people don't recognize me. Or perhaps they choose not to. I am taller, broader, quieter than most, but they let me be. A child offers me a roasted root by a campfire. I take it. I say thank you.
No one bows.
No one cowers.
That night, I sit beneath a sky painted with smoke and stars. The drums echo faintly in the distance, not as war cries, but as celebration. There is something alive in this land, something wild and unashamed.
And for the first time, I feel… still.
Not at peace. Not yet.
But close.
I tell them my name is Kael.
I don't know where that name came from.
Maybe it was his. The man I was before Capitano.
Maybe it was mine all along.