The aftermath of the Rift’s surge left Veridale shivering under a brittle dawn. Smoke curled from the northern districts. Kael sat near the shattered window inside the remnant of the council hall, the morning light catching the tremor of exhaustion in his hands.Reyna stood a short distance away, arms crossed loosely, but the weight in her gaze betrayed her calm façade. She watched Kael, the rise and fall of his chest, the faint tremor of energy lingering in the air around him, and something inside her ached. Her heart had carried this for weeks: fear, frustration, longing, and now, with the Queen freed and danger momentarily paused, she could no longer hold it back.“Kael,” she said softly, voice barely above the hum of the city outside. He looked up, eyes meeting hers, still haunted, still carrying the Rift’s imprint.“Yes?” His voice was hoarse, tired, but attentive.“I…” Reyna faltered, throat tight. She stepped closer, letting the sunlight fa

The wind whipped through the valley as Kael led the group along the narrow cliffside path. The moonlight cut through the mist like shards of silver, illuminating jagged stones beneath their feet. Reyna walked beside him, her hand brushing his occasionally, each touch a reminder of their fragile, new bond. Kael felt it steadying and anchoring him, yet the weight of responsibility pressed on his shoulders like never before. Behind them, Jared followed at a distance, silent but tense. Kael caught the subtle curl of his lips in a bitter and aching half-smile, and the flash of regret in his eyes when he thought Kael wasn’t looking. It was a dangerous emotion to carry into war, but Kael had learned long ago that enemies and allies alike were rarely simple. “Where exactly are we heading?” Reyna asked softly, her voice barely above the sound of the wind. Kael didn’t answer immediately. He scanned the horizon. “To old allies. Shadows who’ve lain dormant since Darius’s fall. If we’re goin

Kael’s sword still vibrated faintly in his hand, the temporal residue from Archon’s death crawling across his skin like wildfire. He stood in the middle of the shattered chamber, muscles tense, heart hammering, and eyes fixed on the ceiling where fractured light filtered through broken glass. Archon was dead. He had ended the monster himself. Yet, the weight of the confession lingered, pressing against him, suffocating in its clarity. Reyna’s hand rested lightly on his arm, grounding him. She didn’t speak at first, letting the silence stretch. Around them, the remnants of the observatory—burned consoles, scattered scrolls, and shattered glass—were silent witnesses to Kael’s fury and determination. Ember and Drax, the two junior commanders who had risen through the ranks from academy instructors to battle-hardened tacticians, moved carefully among the debris, eyes alert for threats. Liam lingered near the doorway, his gaze flickering between Kael and the torn remnants of Ar

Tents and makeshift fortifications lined the slopes of the valley, the soft flicker of lanterns cutting through the predawn fog. Kael moved among the gathered loyalists, his cloak brushing against damp earth, the Rift thrumming faintly beneath his skin. . Reyna stayed at his side, her fingers brushing his as they walked past squads of eager soldiers. The subtle contact was grounding, a quiet anchor amidst the storm. Liam trailed slightly behind, watching the horizon with a careful, calculating gaze. Jared moved through the ranks with a hard, measured precision, scanning faces, noting every nervous glance and wary movement. Ember and Drax coordinated the setup with military precision, their voices crisp, commanding, cutting through the rising murmur of anticipation. Kael raised a hand, calling attention. The valley hushed, and the only sound was the wind moving through broken stones and scattered brush. He inhaled deeply, letting the Rift hum through his veins, a