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  Kael remained kneeling before the stone, his hands still pressed together in silent prayer. A quiet realization settled in his chest—he had forgotten to pray for his past self, Asael. His lips parted slightly, murmuring softly,

  "May my body be buried with dignity… and be found."

  The whispered words carried on the gentle breeze, slipping into the stillness of the sacred place. There was no response, only the rustling of the leaves and the distant murmurs of others who had come to pay their respects. Something within him ached—a sorrow that did not belong entirely to this body but to Asael, the soul itself that reside inside this body.

  Slowly, Kael exhaled and shifted from his kneeling position, brushing the dirt from his knees beneath the folds of his cloak. He turned his head toward Quirl and Quin, who stood not far away, watching over him. With practiced ease, Kael pulled his hood back over his head, the fabric concealing most of his features once more. His long, braided hair swayed slightly with the movement.

  Before he departed, he turned his gaze back to the stone, bowing his head ever so slightly in a final act of reverence. The strands of his hair slipped forward with the motion, catching the faint light of the sun that filtered through the trees.

  Then, he turned.

  His steps were careful as he made his way toward Quirl and Quin. But amid his thoughts, he failed to register Quin’s voice calling out a warning.

  "Kael, be careful—!"

  Before the words could reach him in full, he collided into something—or rather, someone. A firm chest, wrapped in a heavy cloak, sent a jolt through his frame. The impact made him lose his balance, his body tilting dangerously toward the ground. But before he could fall, a strong hand grasped his arm, yanking him upright with controlled strength.

  The motion pulled him close—so close that the scent of steel and foreign spices filled his senses. His cloak billowed slightly, disturbed by the movement, and his hood slipped back, exposing his pale face and the delicate braid draped over his shoulder. The sound of hurried footsteps reached him as Quirl and Quin rushed forward.

  "We're sorry, sir," Quirl spoke swiftly, his voice firm yet respectful. "My little brother didn’t mean to bump into you."

  Kael barely registered the words. The hand that had steadied him released its grip, yet the lingering warmth of the contact remained on his arm. Quickly, Kael reached for his hood, pulling it back over his head in an attempt to shield himself from further scrutiny. The person somehow shocked seeing Kael's appearances.

  Quin reached for him, his touch gentle as he placed the wooden pole into Kael’s grip. "Are you alright?" he asked in a quieter tone, concern laced in his voice.

  Kael nodded, fingers tightening around the pole. But something was different. An unfamiliar sensation bloomed in his chest—discomfort, unease, and something dangerously close to recognition.

  Subconsciously, he shifted, standing just behind Quirl and Quin, as though their presence could shield him from whatever was causing this reaction. His fingers, which usually remained still, found themselves gripping the fabric of Quirl’s cloak.

  Quirl, unaware of Kael’s turmoil, turned his attention back to the stranger, after some chatting with the person Quirl hesitantly asking for the person names. "May I ask your name, sir?"

  For a moment, there was silence. Then, in a calm and composed voice, the man answered,

  "Killian. From the HuaLian Kingdom."

  Kael's grip on the wooden pole tightened, his knuckles turning white. His breath hitched—so faint that only someone attuned to him would notice.

  Killian.

  The name echoed in his mind, sending a tremor through his body. The first thought that screamed in his consciousness was a single, undeniable truth:

  'Crown Prince.'

  A quiet, shaky inhale escaped his lips. Hidden beneath his hood, Kael's dimly glowing eyes flickered upward, barely peering past Quirl and Quin. He could see it—the unmistakable flow of spiritual mana radiating from the man before him. It wavered like a mirage, a presence both familiar and foreign. It was the same spiritual mana from Rayne.

  His vision swayed.

  His breathing grew uneven, the sound of his heartbeat thudding loudly in his ears. The memories of another lifetime clawed at the edges of his mind, too distant to grasp but too strong to ignore.

  Quin, ever observant, felt the faint tremble in Kael’s frame. His gaze flickered toward his younger companion, brows knitting in concern.

  "Kael?" Quin’s voice was softer now, careful.

  Kael did not respond immediately. He swallowed, forcing the turmoil within him to settle, but his hands betrayed him, gripping the wooden pole and the fabric of Quirl’s cloak with uncharacteristic force.

  For the first time in a long time, Kael felt something close to fear.

  Sir Killian notices Kael behaviour after meeting him, this make Quin worried.

  And standing before him, unaware of the storm he had just stirred, was the Crown Prince of HuaLian—Rayne Killian Chanthira. No one knew the crown prince of HuaLian Kingdom full name except him, Kael-- No, Asael Kian Ravenwood who grew up with Rayne Killian Chantira.

  Beneath the shade of the tree, Kael’s grip on Quirl’s cloak was tight, his fingers curled into the fabric like a lifeline. Yet, as he felt the lingering weight of Rayne’s—no, Killian’s—gaze on him, Kael forced himself to loosen his grip, letting the fabric slip from his trembling fingers. A deep breath, concealed beneath the shadow of his hood, did little to steady his racing heart.

  Quin, sensing Kael’s unease, gently placed a hand on his shoulder before guiding him away from the others. He led Kael a short distance, back to where they had been standing earlier, the air still carrying the faint scent of the flowers Kael had just placed upon the grave. The sound of their footsteps against the earth, the occasional chime of Kael’s wooden pole, and the rustling of leaves above filled the silence between them.

  Once they were a safe distance away from Quirl and Killian, Quin turned to Kael with a look of quiet concern. “Master Kael,” he spoke softly, “are you alright? You’re trembling.”

  Kael kept his head low, grateful for the cover of his hood. He swallowed hard, trying to smooth out the shakiness in his voice. “I… was just shocked,” he murmured. “I wasn’t paying attention and bumped into someone. What if he hadn’t forgiven me?” His fingers clenched slightly around the hilt of his wooden pole.

  Quin, ever trusting, frowned but accepted the explanation without question. “You shouldn’t worry about such things, we already apologized,” he assured Kael. “Quirl already apologized on your behalf.” He studied Kael’s posture, noting the faint trembling in his shoulders. “Master Kael… if you need to rest, just say so.”

  Kael shook his head, even as his chest ached with an unfamiliar emotion. He barely understood it himself—his past and present selves clashing within him, colliding with the memories of Rayne. He touched his chest lightly, feeling his heartbeat thumping against his palm, too fast, too erratic. ‘Calm down,’ he told himself. ‘It’s in the past.’ And yet, the moment their eyes met—even if his were hidden—something stirred inside him.

  The thought of Rayne being here, traveling so far from HuaLian Kingdom to Salvation Kingdom, made his unease grow. Why was he here? What reason did he have to travel to this distant land?

  The delicate ornaments on the hilt of Kael’s wooden pole chimed softly as Quirl returned to them, his tone composed yet carrying an edge of curiosity. “Sir Killian mentioned that he and his men are unfamiliar with this kingdom’s routes,” Quirl relayed. “So, I offered to guide them to the main town. They’ll follow our lead.”

  Kael, his turmoil still bubbling beneath the surface, remained silent. He merely nodded, as if the action alone would suppress the growing unease in his heart. Quin also nodded, though his sharp eyes flickered to Kael with concern.

  A short distance away, Killian stood in quiet observation, his oceanic-blue eyes resting upon the hooded figure who had captivated his attention since their unexpected collision. Something about the way Kael carried himself, the way he remained hidden beneath the cloak, sent an unshakable sensation of familiarity coursing through him. His fingers absentmindedly brushed against the collar of his attire, his hood shielding his expression from prying eyes. The sense of longing that swelled within him was foreign, yet undeniable.

  The sound of gentle footsteps against the damp earth, accompanied by the soft tap of a wooden pole, drew his gaze once more. He watched as the covered figure moved, the ornaments in his hair swaying gently with each step. And then, as if by some unexplainable pull, Killian’s eyes landed upon the slender wrist gripping the wooden pole’s hilt.

  His sharp gaze lingered for only a moment before he turned to Quirl. “Sir Quirl,” he began, his voice smooth yet lined with an almost imperceptible edge of concern. “Forgive my assumption, but… your little brother doesn’t seem well.”

  Quirl and Quin stiffened slightly, caught off guard by the keen observation. They exchanged a brief glance before Quirl hesitantly answered, choosing his words carefully. “Kael has always been… fragile,” he admitted, his voice steady but cautious. “Even light movement of training can exhaust him, sometimes to the point of collapse. There have been times when he’s vomited blood and fainted.”

  At those words, Kael inwardly cursed, his heart skipping a beat. He had forgotten—Rayne had always been skilled in detecting unseen ailments, poisons, and afflictions. Of course, he would notice something amiss. ‘Did he sense something?’ Kael thought anxiously.

  Before Kael could collect himself, before he could prepare for what was to come next, he suddenly felt a presence before him—closer than before. The space between them disappeared in an instant. The suddenness of it startled Kael, and the ornaments on his wooden pole chimed in response to his shift in movement.

  His breath caught in his throat as he realized who stood in front of him.

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  Rayne—no, Killian.

  His heart pounded erratically in his chest, deafening in his ears, yet outwardly he remained composed, his expression unreadable beneath the cover of his hood.

  Quin instinctively stepped closer, his protective instincts flaring, while Quirl subtly moved to Kael’s side.

  Kael, trying to ignore the tumult of emotions within him, gripped his wooden pole tighter. He willed himself to steady his breathing, to ignore the way his pulse raced from just being in Killian’s presence. But no matter how much he tried to suppress it, the weight of the past pressed against his chest, suffocating and relentless.

  And then, Killian spoke.

  “You tremble,” he murmured, his voice laced with something indecipherable. “Are you cold, or is it something else?”

  Kael’s breath hitched for just a fraction of a second. This is the second time he felt fear at Killian-no, Rayne.

  And in that moment, he knew.

  Killian was watching him far too closely. And he might have already sensed the truth.

  The truth about his condition.

  Sir Killian turned his head to Quirl, his oceanic-blue eyes calm yet assessing. "Sir Quirl, may I check your little brother’s pulse?" His voice was polite but firm, his gaze lingering on the hooded figure beside Quin.

  Kael, already struggling with the rising wave of anxiety, felt his chest tighten at the proximity of Killian. His breath hitched, and a sharp dizziness washed over him like a crashing tide. His grip on his wooden pole loosened without his realizing it, and with a dull thud, the pole fell to the ground. The sudden sound startled them all, their eyes instinctively darting to Kael just as his balance wavered. His knees buckled, and before he could collapse entirely, he clutched at Quin’s arm, steadying himself.

  "Kael!" Quin gasped, quickly adjusting his stance to support him.

  Panic surged through Quirl, his eyes wide with worry. "We need to move somewhere safe!" he urged.

  Killian observed Kael carefully, his brows knitting together at the sight. "Sir Quirl, we should find a place to examine him properly," he said in a composed tone, though a hint of concern edged his voice.

  Quirl nodded without hesitation. Quin tightened his hold on Kael, helping him walk as steadily as possible. Quirl bent down, retrieving Kael’s wooden pole before following closely behind. As they stepped away from the Silverstone area, a knight rushed towards Killian, his voice ringing with urgency.

  "Your High—"

  Killian raised a hand, signaling him to stop. The knight instantly corrected himself. "My Lord Killian, how was your prayer?"

  Killian merely nodded before instructing the knight in a low voice. "Summon one of the skilled sorcerers from my envoy. Have them meet us immediately."

  The knight bowed and hurried off. Behind Killian, Kael’s unsteady breathing was becoming more apparent, drawing subtle concern from some of Killian’s men. One of them quickly spread a clean white cloth over the ground and gestured to Quin. "Lay him here."

  Quin obeyed, carefully lowering Kael onto the cloth. Kael’s hood nearly slipped back, revealing his pallid complexion, but Quirl reacted swiftly, pulling the hood forward to conceal his features once more.

  Killian knelt on one knee, his cloak pooling onto the ground as he reached for Kael’s wrist. His expression remained calm as he felt for the pulse, but beneath his composed exterior, his mind sharpened with intrigue. A sudden spark of recognition flickered in his thoughts—a faint yet distinct trace of spiritual mana. But something was wrong.

  Unlike a normal flow of mana that coursed through a person's bloodstream, Kael’s spiritual energy was oddly gathered, concentrated in a singular area rather than circulating as it should. Killian’s frown deepened. Moreover, beneath that irregular mana presence, there was something else—something sinister. A rare poison, nearly undetectable by ordinary sorcerers, lay dormant within Kael’s body, steadily worsening his internal state.

  He exhaled softly before rising to his feet and turning to Quirl and Quin. "Sir Quirl, Sir Quin," he began, his voice measured, "your little brother’s condition is severe. There is a rare poison in his system, the kind that cannot be easily detected by normal means. It has been inside him for some time, gradually affecting his body."

  Quirl’s eyes widened in horror. "Poison?!" he echoed, his voice laced with disbelief. "That’s impossible! We—he is always in the manor! How could—?" He stopped, overwhelmed by the shocking revelation. When Killian hear the word manor he raise his brows.

  Killian continued, "His spiritual mana is also not flowing naturally. Instead, it appears to be sealed by an ancient form of magic." His gaze flickered to Kael, who was still conscious but visibly weakened. "This magic is beyond ordinary sorcery. It is intentional."

  Before they could react further, the knight returned, accompanied by a skilled sorcerer dressed in ceremonial robes. The sorcerer bowed before Killian before turning to Kael with a practiced eye.

  "May I?" the sorcerer asked, his voice calm yet authoritative.

  Quirl hesitated, exchanging a glance with Quin, before finally nodding. "Please."

  The sorcerer placed his hands lightly over Kael’s chest, releasing his own spiritual energy. A soft glow emanated as the sorcerer’s mana flowed into Kael’s body, searching, analyzing. Moments later, his brows furrowed, and a shadow of unease crossed his face.

  "My lord," the sorcerer said carefully, addressing Killian without exposing his true identity, "this young master’s condition is far worse than I anticipated. The poison is rare, and his spiritual mana—it's sealed with an ancient magic that is not easily undone."

  Quirl and Quin inhaled sharply, the weight of the situation pressing heavily upon them. Quirl, who had always been close to Kael, felt a wave of helplessness settle over him. "But... but how? Who would do this?" he murmured, more to himself than anyone else.

  Kael, though dizzy, was still alert enough to understand. He cursed silently in his mind. Of course, Rayne—no, Killian—would notice. He had always been skilled in detecting hidden afflictions, poisons, and unseen ailments. Kael’s mind spun with uneasy thoughts, but before he could process them, a wave of nausea struck. He sat up abruptly, coughing violently before expelling a mouthful of blackened blood onto the cloth beneath him.

  "Kael!" Quin was immediately by his side, gripping his shoulders as Kael trembled from the effort.

  The sorcerer checked Kael’s pulse once more and exhaled in relief. "For now, the effects have been suppressed. But this is only temporary."

  The sorcerer then hesitated before asking, "May I examine his eyes to ensure the poison hasn’t spread further?"

  Quirl and Quin exchanged glances, uncertain. But before they could speak, Kael silently reached up and pulled down the cloth covering his eyes. The movement was slow, deliberate.

  The sorcerer leaned in, but the moment Kael’s long lashes fluttered open, his breath caught in his throat. His eyes—a color so striking, so unusual—left the sorcerer momentarily speechless. He swallowed hard and instinctively glanced toward Killian, his expression betraying his anxious thoughts. The color of his eyes is the same as the late Lord Asael Kian Ravenwood, stormy gray.

  Kael, sensing something off in the sorcerer’s reaction, narrowed his eyes slightly, but he remained silent. After a moment, the sorcerer straightened and forced a reassuring smile. "His eyes seem fine," he said, though his voice carried a faint, unshakable tension.

  Kael said nothing as he calmly retied the cloth over his eyes.

  Killian, who had been speaking with his knight, turned back to them. "Is everything settled?" he asked.

  The sorcerer stood and nodded. "His body is stable for the time being. And his eyes..." He hesitated before finishing, "Seem fine as well."

  Killian studied the sorcerer for a long moment before nodding. "Good. Have you provided him with medicinal treatment?"

  The sorcerer nodded again. "Yes, my lord."

  Kael, still leaning against Quin, mumbled to Quirl, "We need to pay for the medicine."

  Quirl, startled, quickly repeated Kael’s words aloud. But Killian merely offered a faint, knowing smile. "There is no need."

  Quirl bowed deeply. "We are truly grateful, Sir Killian. Thank you."

  Killian’s smile lingered, his gaze subtly flickering back to Kael before he spoke once more. "It is my duty to help."

  'Duty... my ass,' Kael cursed inside his mind. But this is the first ever time, Kael-no, Asael seeing Rayne this serious in treating and helping someone who is stranger to them, from knowing him in the past.

  The sun hung lower in the sky, casting golden hues over the outside of Silverstone grounds as Quirl stood beside Killian, discussing the safest routes to the main town. Quirl’s voice was steady, though tinged with concern.

  “We have two options,” he began, gesturing with his hand. “The main trade route—wider, safer, but heavily trafficked. If we take it, we’ll likely draw attention.” His brows furrowed slightly as he continued. “The alternative is the forested path along the riverbank. It’s rarely used, and for good reason.”

  Killian turned his sharp gaze toward Quirl, his deep oceanic-blue eyes reflecting thoughtfulness. “Magical beasts?”

  Quirl nodded. “Not just any. The kind that can sense weakness or unguarded spiritual energy.” He hesitated before adding, “With Kael’s current condition, I worry about unwanted encounters.”

  Killian exhaled through his nose, thoughtful. “A risk either way,” he murmured. “But if secrecy is our priority, the forest path it is.”

  As they conversed, Quin remained beside Kael, his grip gentle on the young master’s frail arm. Kael was still regaining his strength, his breaths more even now, though his posture betrayed fatigue. Quin, ever patient, spoke softly, asking simple questions.

  “Are you feeling better?”

  A slow nod from Kael.

  “Does the dizziness still linger?”

  A small shake of the head.

  Quin smiled slightly. “That’s good.” He didn’t expect much of a response—Kael had always been quiet. But in his silence, Quin had learned to read the smallest gestures, the slight tilts of his head, the tightening of his fingers around his wooden pole.

  Nearby, the skilled sorcerer stood stiffly, his gaze flickering towards Kael more often than not. His fingers twitched as though restraining the urge to step forward. The sorcerer’s hesitance did not go unnoticed.

  Kael, sensing the persistent gaze despite his covered eyes, tilted his head slightly in the sorcerer’s direction. A faint glow pulsed beneath his blindfold, though subtle, as if seeing beyond sight. The air between them carried a strange weight—recognition.

  With a quiet exhale, Kael lifted a hand, lightly tapping Quin’s arm. Without a word, Quin understood and guided him toward the waiting sorcerer.

  The moment Kael moved, the soft chime of his wooden pole’s ornament rang through the air. The delicate sound was unexpected amidst the hushed conversations and shifting footsteps. It was enough to pause the discussion between Killian and Quirl.

  Killian’s sharp ears caught it first, his conversation halting mid-sentence. His gaze flickered toward the source, observing as Kael slowly approached the skilled sorcerer. Quirl, noticing the shift, turned his head slightly, his words trailing off as he saw the unusual scene unfolding.

  The sorcerer, standing stiffly, now looked openly at Kael, his expression unreadable. Kael’s right hand, pale as ivory, slipped from his cloak, reaching forward. The sorcerer hesitated only for a heartbeat before stepping closer and taking the offered hand in a firm handshake. His lips moved, forming words only they could hear.

  From a distance, some of Killian’s men stole glances at the interaction, their curiosity evident. The slight shift of Kael’s hood revealed just a sliver of his face, enough for the sorcerer to see him clearly. A flicker of something flashed in the sorcerer’s eyes—an emotion between awe and understanding.

  Kael’s beauty, though subdued by illness and exhaustion, still held remnants of the ethereal grace once known as Asael. It was an unearthly, haunting beauty—one that did not belong to the mundane world. The sorcerer, realizing this, masked his reaction with a polite smile, speaking softly as he held Kael’s hand a moment longer before releasing it.

  From the side, Quirl turned to Killian, intending to continue their discussion, but hesitated. Killian, still watching the exchange, had a peculiar expression—his normally composed gaze shadowed by something unreadable.

  “Sir Killian,” Quirl called once. No response.

  “Sir Killian,” he tried again, firmer this time.

  Killian blinked, his expression smoothing as he pulled himself back into the present. He turned his gaze back to Quirl, giving a small nod of acknowledgment.

  Quirl chose to say nothing of it. Instead, he continued, “The path is difficult. Even if we take it, we should expect resistance. If we move at dawn, we might avoid the stronger creatures that hunt at night.”

  Killian nodded. “Then we need to prepare accordingly.”

  His voice was steady, but the lingering flicker of thought in his eyes had yet to fade. As the sun continued to set, casting long shadows over the Silverstone grounds, a quiet but undeniable shift had begun.

  Kael’s voice was soft, calm, almost carried by the breeze between the trees.

  "Thank you... for your help," he said, his head turned slightly toward the skilled sorcerer, his covered eyes giving off a serene, glowing warmth.

  The sorcerer gave a modest smile, his long coat shifting with the wind. "I only followed my Lord’s command. It is nothing much... I’ve served Lord Killian for quite some time now."

  Kael tilted his head slightly at that, though his face remained unreadable under the hood. Followed Rayne? Since when? How come I never knew... Questions raced in his mind, but he didn’t voice them.

  There was a pause before the sorcerer spoke again, this time a bit hesitantly. "May I know your name?"

  Kael slowly lifted his face a little. The hood shifted, revealing a delicate sliver of his pale features—elegant, almost ethereal. A faint smile touched his lips.

  "Kael Liam... Vayren," he replied softly. "And this is my older brother, Quin Vayren."

  Quin, who stood closely beside him, blinked and looked sharply down at Kael. The name 'Vayren' instead of Kael real bloodline name 'Vladimir' stirred something warm in Quin’s chest. His Master had chosen their family name.

  Kael extended a pale hand from within his cloak.

  The skilled sorcerer reached for it and clasped it gently. "My name is Serenn Althire," he said with a gentle smile, his voice laced with respectful calm. "It’s an honor to meet the Vayren brothers."

  They exchanged a brief look before Serenn continued, lowering his voice. "I sensed your mana is sealed... There are tomes I've read from the Sanctum of HuaLian. Some speak of ancient seals—subtle, intricate. When I return to the capital, I will write to you with what I find. There may be a way to break it."

  Kael nodded slowly, grateful yet quiet. Before either could speak more, they heard approaching footsteps.

  Quirl and Killian were heading toward them.

  Kael instantly grew quiet, his body language withdrawing.

  Quirl stepped forward. "Kael, are you sure you're fine to come with us? If you’d prefer, we can arrange for you to travel with some merchants taking the safer route."

  Kael opened his mouth slightly, almost ready to agree. But Quin interrupted, voice firm with a trace of exasperation.

  "Quirl, are you serious? You want Kael to travel alone with strangers? He’s still recovering, and—" Quin stopped himself, his voice lowering as he looked at Kael gently, "—and he can’t see."

  Quirl turned to Kael, guilt washing over his face. "I’m sorry, I didn’t think that far. I just didn’t want to cause trouble."

  Kael let the moment pass, his silence saying more than any words. His plan to distance himself from Rayne—Killian—crumbled in Quin’s protective resolve.

  Killian, calm and composed, nodded once. "Then it’s settled. Prepare everything for departure."

  One of Killian’s trusted knights soon arrived with three horses. Two brown, one whiteish in color. Kael’s breath hitched slightly at the sight of the white horse.

  It’s almost like… him, he thought, the image of his past horse flashing in his mind. His hand gently caressed the reins as they were passed to Quin.

  Quin handed Kael the reins of the white horse with a soft grin. Quirl and Quin took the brown ones.

  "I’ll hold your wooden pole for now," Quirl offered. Kael handed it over without a word, his gloved fingers brushing Quirl’s briefly.

  Kael searched for the horse’s face by touch as Quin secured the reins to Kael’s wrist.

  Then Killian asked, almost cautiously, "Forgive me if I offend, but... can Sir Kael ride? The roads are not easy."

  Quin lifted his chin. "He has his ways of sensing the path. His senses are... sharper than most."

  Kael quietly chuckled at that, barely audible, but it reached Quin, Quirl, and Killian.

  "Idiot," he mumbled to himself.

  Killian blinked, a faint upward curl on his lips as he gave a short whistle—signal to move.

  Everyone began mounting their horses.

  Kael moved with careful slowness, his arms reaching up as if unsure. He pretended to struggle.

  Then, a strong hand lifted him like he weighed nothing. In seconds, he was seated atop the white horse, his cloak trailing down the horse’s side, ornaments at his hip chiming faintly. The dagger was still hidden.

  He turned slightly, recognizing the presence behind him.

  "Thank you," Kael murmured.

  Killian, who hadn’t mounted his horse yet, stared at him. Something tugged at his heart.

  A memory. Asael—elegant and proud—clumsily mounting his first horse. That moment resurfaced with a sharp clarity.

  His expression dimmed slightly.

  Kael noticed.

  One of the ornaments braided into Kael’s long hair fell, making a delicate sound as it hit the saddle. Serenn, watching quietly from behind, smiled softly at the sight.

  The golden sky above them had deepened, shadows stretching from the trees, a quiet hush in the air as the party prepared to ride through the forested path toward the capital.

  Kael’s pale face briefly illuminated beneath the shifting hood, eyes hidden, yet watchful.

  And so, with the final preparations made, the envoy began their ride forward—into danger, destiny, and memory alike.

  To be continued...

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