The dawn broke gently over Haven.The early light bathed the forested hills in gold, casting long shadows over the newly laid stone paths that crisscrossed through the settlement. From the eastern cliffs, the scent of morning dew mixed with the earthy aroma of ash and pine, a reminder of both the scars and strength of the land they now called home.Kairo stood at the edge of the training grounds, his eyes fixed on the horizon, where the distant mountains carved a jagged silhouette into the sky. He had barely slept. Not from worry, but from a quiet urgency stirring in his chest.I am going to be a father.The words circled in his mind like the wind swirling around his feet. Each time they surfaced, they brought with them equal parts ,warmth and weight. The thought of a child—a living piece of him and Ayame—was more terrifying than any blade he’d ever faced.And yet, it grounded him. For once, he wasn’t moving forward out of vengeance, but to build something lasting.“A lot on your mind

The moon was pale and thin—like a sliver of bone hanging over Haven’s dark rooftops. The air carried a damp chill, curling through alleyways and between stone towers like a whisper of things unspoken. On this night, not even the stars dared to shine bright.Kairo stood alone on the high balcony of the central keep, the wind tugging at his tunic. Below, the quiet hum of life in Haven carried upward—soldiers laughing over fire-pits, blacksmiths finishing the last blows of iron, children sneaking past curfew. The peace he had carved out of blood and ash was real, tangible.But it felt fragile tonight.Behind him, soft footsteps broke the quiet. Ayame approached, wrapped in a shawl, her hand resting on her small but unmistakable bump.“You’ve barely slept since the council meeting,” she murmured, brushing a hand along his arm.Kairo’s gaze stayed on the horizon. “I’ve felt... a change. As if the shadows are watching. Listening. Like something old has started to move.”Ayame followed his g

The moon hung like a silent witness above Haven, silver and cold, casting its light over a city on the edge of transformation. For the first time in decades, the mountain stronghold thrummed with purpose—not fear. Not vengeance. But something more enduring. The forging of the Ashguard and the reawakening of the Oathstone had lit a fire in the hearts of Kairo’s people. A fire that would soon be tested.Ayame sat alone in the Queen’s chamber, wrapped in a deep red robe, her hand resting protectively over her swelling belly. The room was quiet, save for the soft crackle of the fireplace and the distant murmurs of soldiers preparing below. Her fingers traced the edge of a map laid out before her, eyes narrowing on the southern borders—where Veylun’s spies had last been sighted.She knew war was coming.She had felt it in the wind when the Oathstone had been restored. Power awakened always echoed across the land, and their enemies would feel it too.But war wasn’t what worried her the most

The wind shifted as dawn crept across Haven’s eastern wall, painting the citadel in warm hues of bronze and amber. Kairo stood on the parapet, arms folded, his gaze cast toward the jagged silhouette of the Scorchlands beyond the horizon. The land he had only ever seen in the tales of the Silent Blade—legends of firestorms, buried relics, and a forgotten war.Below him, the city stirred. The clang of armor, the groan of leather harnesses, the rhythm of preparation. Haven was awakening for war.Behind him, Ayame approached, her armor a glint of silver threaded with flame-colored filigree. A blade rested at her hip, not ceremonial this time, but sharpened and ready.“Never thought I’d live to see a march like this again,” she said quietly.Kairo didn’t move his gaze. “We don’t have a choice anymore.”“He’ll strike the Temple. That much is clear.”Kairo nodded. “And we have to reach it first.”Ayame’s voice softened. “You’re still thinking about him, aren’t you? Veylun.”A shadow crossed

The wind swept softly across the Scorchlands, no longer carrying the scent of burning ash and blood. Instead, it bore the stillness of mourning—and of rebirth. The first light of dawn painted the ruined ridges in hues of gold and pale rose, washing over the cracked stones of what remained of the Temple of Kindled Bones.Kairo stood alone at the edge of the ridge, his silhouette cut against the horizon, watching the sun rise. His cloak fluttered in the breeze, half-torn from battle, smeared with ash and the blood of both allies and enemies. His blade, now sheathed across his back, felt heavier than ever—not from weight, but from memory.Behind him, the survivors stirred.The Ashguard had suffered heavy losses. More than half of their number had fallen either on the field or within the temple’s collapsing heart. But those who lived carried a fire in their chests that no darkness could smother. And ,with the fall of Veylun and the purging of the Temple’s corrupt energy, the land itself s