The air outside the ruins felt sharper.
Colder.
Not from temperature—but from silence.
Kaelen stepped out last, his senses still on edge. Behind him, the crystal chamber sealed itself, folding like the closing petals of some ancient, forgotten flower. Whatever power lingered beneath the surface… it didn't want to be found again.
Not by them.
The others had already started down the slope. Seraphine walked ahead with Mira, her dark hair streaming behind her in the wind. Arkyn, still unconscious, floated behind them inside a levitation field—too weak to walk, too valuable to leave.
Selene trailed behind.
Kaelen watched her.
She hadn't spoken since the pendant.
Her shoulders were rigid. Her boots made no sound as she stepped through wet leaves and ancient stones. She hadn't looked at him—not once.
He fell into step beside her anyway.
They walked for a while in silence. Branches whispered overhead, stirred by a breeze that hadn't existed minutes ago.
Finally, Kaelen said softly, "Do you believe her?"
Selene didn't answer immediately.
Her eyes were fixed ahead. But he saw the small flicker in her fingers—where she clutched the edge of her cloak.
"I don't know," she said. Her voice wasn't cold. Just distant. "I always thought she abandoned me because I wasn't useful enough. A failure."
Kaelen looked at her. "You're not."
She didn't react.
Then: "And now, maybe I never belonged to her in the first place. Maybe it was easier for her to leave."
Kaelen hesitated. "Does it change anything?"
"Yes," she whispered.
Then she turned toward him, eyes glassy but dry. "And no."
Kaelen stepped in front of her, slowing her.
She blinked at him, confused.
"Look, Selene," he said carefully. "Whatever she was—or wasn't—whatever blood flows through your veins… it doesn't change who you are to me."
Her breath caught.
He held her gaze. "You stood by me when no one else would. You fought for people who barely understood you. You held yourself together when the whole world tried to break you. That's not something you inherited."
Selene opened her mouth, but no sound came.
So Kaelen stepped a little closer.
And without thinking, he reached up—brushed a lock of hair from her face. Just once.
Her skin shivered beneath the touch.
"I don't care whose pendant that is," he said softly. "I care about you."
The air between them shifted.
A heartbeat passed.
Two.
Then she looked away sharply, and the moment broke.
"I'm fine," she said, too quickly.
Kaelen nodded slowly. He didn't push it.
He just walked with her. Quietly.
That was enough.
They rejoined the others near a bend in the path, where the forest grew thinner and the mountains began to show teeth in the distance.
Mira pointed at a ridgeline. "We'll take shelter near those rocks. There's an old scouting post—abandoned since the last glyph purge. We can rest there."
Seraphine raised a brow. "Rest? With the Tower closing in?"
"We can't run on fumes," Mira said. "Not while carrying him."
She nodded toward Arkyn's unconscious form. His breathing was shallow. His skin had taken on a faint shimmer—like something inside him was still reacting to Lyrielle's magic.
Kaelen narrowed his eyes. "His glyph…"
It pulsed. Soft, blue-white. Then flickered.
Seraphine leaned in. "It's syncing with yours."
Kaelen nodded. "Not just mine. Selene's too."
Mira looked between them. "What does that mean?"
Kaelen hesitated.
Then whispered, "I think he's a Sigil Anchor."
Seraphine's head snapped toward him. "That's impossible. Those were myths."
"No," Kaelen said. "They were covered up."
Mira frowned. "What's a Sigil Anchor?"
Selene answered this time, her voice low. "A being whose presence can stabilize, link, or even amplify surrounding glyphs. They weren't just conduits. They were… keys."
"To what?" Mira asked.
Kaelen looked toward the horizon. "To something the Tower didn't want anyone to find."
Night fell faster than it should've.
By the time they reached the outpost, the moon hung fractured in the sky—half-shrouded by shadow glyphs that curled like smoke across the stars.
Kaelen paused, staring at it.
The Tower had always said the moon was cursed. That the fracture had been divine punishment.
But tonight… it looked like a warning.
The stone outpost was crumbling but intact. A single chamber. Reinforced glyphs still hummed faintly in the walls—just enough to keep the cold out.
Seraphine set up a ward at the entrance. Mira made a fire. Selene settled near Arkyn, her fingers absentmindedly tracing the pendant again.
Kaelen watched her from across the fire.
Then walked over.
"Here," he said, holding out a cloth pouch. "Dried fruit. You haven't eaten all day."
She blinked, caught off guard. But accepted it.
"Thanks."
He sat beside her.
For a long time, neither spoke.
Then Selene said quietly, "Why do you care so much?"
Kaelen turned to her. "About you?"
She nodded.
He smiled faintly. "Because you're important."
"To you?"
"To me. To this. To what's coming." His voice lowered. "Because when I lost everything, you were still there. And I never want to lose that."
Selene looked away.
But not before he saw the emotion tighten in her eyes.
She didn't reply.
But she leaned, just slightly, closer.
And Kaelen didn't move away.
Across the fire, Seraphine watched them.
Not with jealousy.
Not yet.
But with a strange ache in her chest she didn't recognize.
She looked down at the ward symbols beneath her fingers—symbols she'd traced without thought.
And realized they were beginning to mirror Kaelen's glyph.
Subtle. But there.
"Don't forget," she whispered to herself, "you're not like them."
But the truth didn't echo the same way anymore.
And the warmth in her chest wasn't just from the fire.
Far above, the fractured moon glowed dimly.
And somewhere beyond the horizon, a second Tower Envoy knelt before a black sigil—its shape ancient and forbidden.
"Kaelen Veris," the figure murmured.
The glyph flared.
"Found you."