The embers in the hearth were dying.
Outside, the night air had stilled unnaturally. Even the crickets had gone silent.
Velira lay half-awake on the cot Kael had offered her, her red eyes gleaming in the dark. Her instincts itched—something was wrong. She rolled to her side, reaching beneath her cloak, fingers brushing a hidden blade laced with voidsilver.
Then she felt it: the faintest pulse of shadow magic. Old. Refined. Deadly.
A whisper brushed across the window like a lover's breath.
She bolted upright. "They've found me…"
---
Kael's room.
He stirred from sleep the moment he heard the shift in wind—a warrior's instinct buried beneath layers of quiet, domestic peace. Ryn slept beside him, her naked body curled against his, tail coiled loosely around his leg.
But Kael was already on his feet.
He didn't reach for a frying pan.
He reached for the blade hidden beneath the floorboard—a relic from a life long forgotten. The steel shimmered faintly with runes only those born of war could read.
Ryn blinked awake. "What—?"
"Stay here," Kael said, voice low. "Guard Lyra. And if anything walks through that door that isn't me—kill it."
---
Downstairs.
Velira faced the window.
The shadows coalesced into something human—but too tall, too thin, wrapped in robes that billowed as if moved by water. Its face was hidden beneath a mask of polished bone, and in its hands, it held a chain of blackened teeth.
"Velira of the Red Flame," it rasped. "You broke the covenant."
"I lit a pyre," she answered. "And walked away from monsters."
"You will return. Or you will be dragged back."
Before she could answer, the thing lunged.
But it didn't reach her.
Kael crashed through the kitchen door, blade in hand, shirtless, body taut with coiled strength. He moved like a man who had lived on the edge of war—every step precise, every movement lethal.
He didn't hesitate.
Steel met sorcery as Kael drove the blade into the assassin's side. The creature shrieked—a sound that cracked glass and blood vessels alike. Velira followed, fire leaping from her hands.
Together, they drove it back. Kael moved like a beast unshackled—every slash infused with more than muscle. With memory.
He remembered this kind of kill. This kind of war.
The assassin shrieked once more and vanished into mist, leaving only the smell of burning shadow and a charred tooth on the floor.
Kael stood still, panting, body gleaming with sweat and blood.
Velira stared at him.
"You fought like one of us," she whispered.
"I'm not," Kael said. "Not anymore."
Behind them, Aeris stood at the stairs. Her robe hung loose, revealing the ancient sigil glowing on her collarbone. Her eyes were not surprised—but sad.
"They're waking up," she said. "The Courts. The Temples. The Old Powers."
Kael met her gaze. "Then let them come."
---
Elsewhere—deep in a mountain temple
A pool of black liquid shimmered, reflecting the fight that had just occurred.
A woman in crimson sat on a throne of stone. Her skin was pale as snow, her eyes glowed red—and wings of shadow stretched behind her.
"The lost son of the Wyrm," she said softly. "And a daughter of the Firstborn. And now, the last ember of the Midnight Court burns beside them."
She licked her lips.
"Bring me the harem of Kael Ardent. I want to taste their souls before the end."
---
Back in the inn
Kael stood in the quiet aftermath.
Ryn emerged, weapon in hand, Lyra safe behind her.
Aeris moved to Kael's side, brushing sweat from his face.
And Velira… stepped close, her breath warm against his ear.
"I came here running," she whispered. "But maybe I was meant to find you."
Then she kissed him.
Not gently—desperately. Her lips claimed his, fire meeting fire. Their tongues tangled, breath hot, her hands dragging across his chest, slipping lower.
He gripped her hips, backed her into the counter, kissed her like he'd fought for her.
Because he had.
And upstairs… Aeris watched.
And smiled.