POV: Kael ⚔️🕯️📜
Kael watched Ariya cradle the flame-forged sword like it was part of her.
She hadn't said much since they left the vault. She didn't have to. The blade had spoken in her silence — humming with heat that resonated with every step she took, like it had already chosen her… or perhaps awakened something inside her she couldn't put back to sleep.
"That sword's got more attitude than Jax," Lyra muttered beside him.
"Hey!" came the indignant voice from up ahead. "I heard that."
"Good."
Kael didn't laugh.
His gaze stayed fixed on Ariya.
Ever since she picked up that blade, her eyes had changed. Not darker — clearer. Like she could see through people now. Through him.
He hated it.
Not because she was dangerous.
But because she was slipping away — piece by piece, into something bigger, older, more powerful than anything they were ready for.
They camped just outside the vault, choosing a quiet ledge carved out of ashstone. From here, Kael could see across the ravine toward the scorched cliffs beyond.
Ariya sat apart, sharpening her new sword in silence.
Lyra cleaned her daggers nearby. Jax pretended to sleep — loudly — while humming a bad tune about "ancient flame swords and the idiots who love them."
Kael paced.
Something was coming. He could feel it.
And he was right.
Because just before dawn… someone walked into their camp.
Unannounced. Unafraid.
"Good morning," came a too-casual voice.
Kael had his sword out before he turned.
The figure wore black armor scorched with claw marks and fire-char. His face was familiar — too familiar.
"Thane," Kael growled.
Ariya's head snapped up. Lyra stood. Jax sat up, blinking. "Wait — the assassin guy? We killed him!"
"Nope," Thane said brightly. "You tried."
He held up a hand — not for defense, but to show he wasn't holding a weapon.
"I'm not here to fight. I have a message. For you, Kael."
Kael narrowed his eyes. "From Ruvan?"
"From someone else," Thane said, stepping forward. "Someone from your past."
He tossed a scroll onto the ground.
Kael didn't move.
Ariya did.
She picked it up, unrolling it slowly — the wax seal cracked, the edges scorched but still legible.
She read it silently.
Then looked up.
"It's addressed to Kael," she said quietly. "From your father."
Kael froze.
His father had died in the first wave of rebellion years ago.
Or so he'd thought.
"What kind of trick is this?" he snapped.
"It's not a trick," Thane said. "It's a revelation. One you're not going to like."
He turned to leave.
"Oh, and Kael?"
Kael glared.
"When you're ready to know who really trained your father in the flame arts — come find me. Or… let Ariya read the rest."
And with that, he vanished into the ash-smoke, like a ghost retreating into the mountain.
Later, Kael sat beside the fire, scroll in hand, unread.
Ariya sat beside him.
"You don't have to open it," she said gently.
He didn't look at her.
"I'm afraid it'll change how I see everything."
"Maybe it will," she replied. "But maybe it'll also help you understand the kind of leader you're becoming."
He looked at her then.
And for the first time in days, she didn't seem like a goddess or a weapon or a fate-bound force.
She seemed like Ariya.
"Whatever's in there," she said, "I'm still with you."