The rain had long stopped, yet the earth still carried its scent—wet, wild, and heavy with secrets. In the dim glow of dawn, Lyra stood at the edge of the old stone path leading into the heart of the Whispering Woods. Her cloak clung to her frame, soaked from the night's pursuit, and her fingers still trembled with the weight of what she'd uncovered.
Kael had not returned.
Not fully.
Whatever he'd become in that temple, whatever ancient force had awoken within him, it now walked beside him—silent, unseen, yet ever-present. She could feel it in his gaze, in the way his voice held a new edge, as if something inside him was always listening… watching.
"Are you sure you want to do this?" Nia asked softly, stepping beside her. The oracle's once-bright eyes looked dimmer now, haunted by the truths she carried.
Lyra didn't answer at first. Her eyes were fixed on the tree line ahead. That forest had taken everything from her once—her peace, her blood, her trust. And yet, it now held the one thing she needed to uncover: the truth about Kael's bond to the ancient throne and the oath he'd broken long before he ever met her.
"I have to," Lyra whispered. "Before he loses himself completely."
The journey into the woods was quiet. Every step was met with the crunch of brittle leaves and the hum of unseen creatures. Shadows clung to the edges of their path like memories, whispering things Lyra tried not to hear.
They stopped at a circle of stones buried in moss and time. Nia knelt and traced the sigils carved into the rock—runes older than the kingdom, forbidden by law and forgotten by choice.
"This is where it began," Nia murmured. "Kael was just a child when the first oath was broken."
Lyra's throat tightened. "And now?"
"Now," the oracle replied, "he stands on the edge of repeating it."
Suddenly, a low howl pierced the quiet—deep, guttural, and laced with fury. Lyra's blood ran cold.
Kael.
But not as she remembered.