The night before the mobilization was still and airless. The capital slept under its veil of silver lanterns, unaware that its fate had already begun to shift. Equito sat alone in the watchtower overlooking the training fields, her armor unpolished, her hair still tied in the soldier's knot she had worn since the western campaign. She had not slept in two days.
Below her, the vanguard trained through the night. Hundreds of soldiers moved like a living machine, their armor clattering in rhythm, their torches painting streaks of orange across the grass. And in the center of it all was Kael.
He did not shout commands or wave his blade like a commander drunk on authority. He moved, and the men followed. When he parried, they parried. When he stepped forward, they advanced. His calm was absolute, almost serene, and it rippled through the ranks like gravity. Equito had seen generals who could win wars with charisma or faith. Kael led with absence.
She leaned forward, elbows on her knees, eyes following his every movement. Every swing of his sword was mechanical, every motion perfect, yet lifeless. There was no intent behind his precision, no spark of pride or rage. It was the act of something that fought because it remembered how.
A low wind rolled across the field, stirring dust and the faint scent of oil. When Kael sheathed his sword, the men immediately knelt, saluting him in reverence. He gave no response, simply turned and began walking toward the armory.
Equito followed him after a moment, her boots echoing down the stone corridor. She caught up to him near the armory entrance, where he was adjusting the leather straps around his wrist. The torches cast his shadow long across the wall.
"You should rest," she said.
"I do not require rest."
"You are still human, Kael."
He looked at her, expression blank. "That remains unproven."
The reply should have stung, but it only left her cold. He brushed past her and entered the armory. The walls inside were lined with weapons arranged like shrines, each blade marked by a rune that pulsed faintly in the dark. The forge fires still glowed, tended by a pair of apprentices too afraid to speak in his presence.
Kael selected a single blade, one forged from blacksteel and silver veins, its handle carved with the crest of the royal line. He turned it in his hand, watching how the light caught the metal.
"That one is untested," Equito said, stepping beside him. "It reacts to the blood of its wielder."
Kael gave a small nod. "Then it will know mine."
He took it without hesitation, drawing the blade along the edge of his palm. The metal flared briefly, the runes igniting like trapped stars before fading again. The wound closed instantly, the skin sealing as if it had never been cut.
Equito stared. "Does it hurt?"
Kael slid the blade back into its sheath. "Pain is a measure of the feeling."
He turned to leave, and for the briefest second, she thought she saw something flicker in his eyes. Not emotion, not even recognition, just a momentary pulse, like a thought trying to surface before sinking back into the void.
Later, when she returned to her quarters, she found the king waiting there. He was still in his ceremonial robes, a wine glass in hand, his crown set aside on the table beside him.
"You watch him too closely," he said without looking up.
"It is my duty to observe him, Your Majesty."
"Observe, yes. But do not mistake observation for understanding. The boy you knew is gone. What stands before us is power made flesh. The kind of power that decides the fate of nations."
Equito hesitated. "And what if that power decides we are unworthy of its command?"
The king's gaze hardened. "Then we remind it who gave it purpose."
He left her in silence, the door closing softly behind him. She stood there for a long time, staring at the empty chair he had left, the faint tremor in her hands betraying the thought she refused to voice.
Equito spent the rest of her time pondering what could happen if Kael lost himself to whatever lay buried in him, or if he already has. Equito couldn't decide whether or not he was an ally, even after spending 3 years attached to him by the hip; it was impossible. He gave no slights, no warnings. The only concerning thing he did was doubt his own humanity at every possible turn.
She decided to sleep on it for now.
Outside, the bells began to toll. The first hour of dawn. The day the kingdom marched to war.
Kael was already in the courtyard, mounted and waiting. His armor caught the rising light, cold and pale. Around him, the vanguard assembled in silence.
As the gates opened, the people cheered, waving banners and crying blessings. They did not see the lifeless eyes behind the visor. They only saw their savior, their divine knight.
Equito followed behind, her own heart heavy with doubt. Somewhere beyond the horizon, the drums of another kingdom began to sound.