The blue moon hung low over Kaziana’s skies, casting a pale light upon the silent, ancient forest of Karmaril. Towering trees loomed like the pillars of some forgotten palace, their leaves rustling in slow whispers—as if passing old secrets to the spirits buried deep within their roots. Snowflakes fell like dead light—slow, serene, yet carrying a nameless weight.
Amidst the hush, Kael Zareth walked.
His long black hair was swept by the winter wind, and his footsteps made no sound, as if the earth itself respected his presence. At his side hung the blade Rael’Thur—an ancient sword said to awaken only when the world itself calls for blood.
But within his chest, that silence was a mask.
Behind the flicker of his blue gaze lived a name that refused to fade: Armea.
She had vanished seven seasons ago, yet her shadow clung to every cold that kissed his skin.
Not far from there, on copper-stained soil, Armea Ril’Sara knelt beside the corpse of a winged beast.
Her eyes studied the tracks in the ground—large, deep, and far too close to Meirah’s borders. A sign unseen since the cold war between clans ended five years ago.
Her final arrow was spent. Her shoulder bled—not fatal, but enough to slow her. She regretted coming alone tonight.
Footsteps she knew well approached from the north. She didn’t need to turn.
Kael.
He emerged from the shadows, and though cloaked by the thick of night, he carried an unmistakable presence—a blend of old wounds, unshaken loyalty, and something not brave enough to be called love.
“You’re hurt,” he said, voice low and deep, echoing like a whisper through the valley.
Armea stood, her expression showing no weakness.
“It’s shallow.”
“But deep enough to kill, if you keep walking alone like this.”
“I don’t need a guardian, Kael.”
“I’m not a guardian.” He stopped a single step from her side. “I just… don’t know how to walk away.”
For a moment, the snow ceased to fall—as if the night itself was listening.
Armea lowered her gaze slightly, steadying the tremor inside her. She had never forgotten him—never wanted to. But their world had changed.
She was now a minor commander among Meirah’s scouts.
And Kael... was still Kaziana’s sentinel, standing between blood and command.
“Why do you only appear when I’ve finally stopped looking for you?” Her voice was soft.
Kael didn’t answer at once.
He pulled a small locket from the folds of his cloak and placed it in her hand.
“This fell when you crossed the mountain five months ago. I kept it because… I thought you might come back for it.”
Armea closed her fingers around the locket.
In her heart, she knew: it wasn’t about the locket.
It was about them.
But before a word more could pass between them, the earth began to tremble.
From the northeast came the sound of cracking stone, followed by a faint green glow dancing across the sky.
Kael looked up, frowning.
“That’s not ordinary light...”
Armea readied herself, fingers brushing her nearly empty quiver.
“Not Meirah magic either. Do you think…?”
Kael nodded slowly. “The pit. It might be... fracturing.”
Armea let out a heavy breath.
“If that’s true, our world will fall apart before we ever fix what we’ve already broken.”
Kael turned to her.
“And that’s why I’m here. Not to save you, Armea.
But to fight beside you.
This time—without running.”
Silence returned—but it wasn’t empty.
It was a beginning.