"Kael…"
It was faint at first, almost swallowed by the wind, but the voice cut through the white haze in his mind.
He turned toward it. Snow whipped past his face, stinging his skin, the cold already worming its way into his bones.
"Kael!"
This time it was sharp, desperate.
He ran.
Boots hammered against frozen ground, breath ragged and hot in his throat. The snow dragged at his legs, and it was only then that he realized why. His knees were lower to the ground, his stride shorter, his arms thin, and his sleeves too long. He wasn't himself. He was smaller. Younger.
The world blurred. His legs ached, his lungs burned. The voice ahead pulled at him like a rope around his chest, yanking him forward no matter how much his lungs burned.
Something flashed ahead, light. Harsh and bright against the muted winter world.
Two lights loomed in the distance, locked in a violent storm.
The one on the left burned red, wild and vicious, sparks spilling from their body in great arcs that melted the snow at their feet. The other was wreathed in green light, fluid and twisting, each movement trailing a haze like venomous smoke.
And between them, his sister.
She looked so small.
Kael's heart punched against his ribs. "Move!" he shouted, though the wind swallowed most of it.
He pushed forward, and then the green moved. Power ripped outward in a rolling wave, slamming into him like a wall. He was thrown back, boots skidding, breath torn from his lungs. His hands hit the snow hard, fingers numbed instantly.
"Get up!" he snarled at himself, dragging his body forward again.
The red lashed out, and a whip of searing light cracked across the air. It caught Kael on the side, heat exploding through his coat. The smell of burned cloth and singed hair filled his nose, and for a heartbeat, he thought his arm was gone.
He staggered forward anyway.
The ground between him and his sister was breaking, ice shards jutting up where red and green collided. Every clash was a thunderclap that rattled his teeth.
She turned toward him. Eyes wide, lips parting like she might call his name again.
Another burst, red and green slamming together in a blinding sphere of light. The force knocked him, his vision flaring white.
Through it, her silhouette stood framed in the chaos.
Then the light swallowed her whole.
The sound that tore out of him was raw and broken, but it didn't matter — because she was gone.
Kael's eyes flew open, and for a moment, the smell of scorched cloth still clung to the air.
The ceiling beams of his room loomed above him, half-lit by the pale morning glow spilling through the shutters. His heart pounded against his ribs like it was still trying to break free.
Cold air filled his nose, but it wasn't the same cold—not the biting frost of that moment. His body was slick with sweat, the damp fabric clinging uncomfortably beneath his nightshirt.
He sat up too quickly, breath coming in short bursts, the echo of that blinding clash still seared into his vision.
Not real. It's not real.
But his hands were trembling, and when he looked down, he almost expected to see scorch marks where the red magic had hit him. His fingers curled into fists, nails biting into his palms, grounding himself in the present.
The muffled sounds of the village trickled in from outside — the creak of carts, distant shouts, the rhythmic thud of someone chopping wood. It should have been comforting. Instead, it felt wrong. Small. Fragile.
Kael rubbed his face, dragging his palms over tired eyes.
Her voice was still there, faint and ghostly.
It's my fault.
The thought came as easily as breathing, as if it had always been waiting for him at the edge of waking.
If I'd been faster. Stronger. Anything. She'd still be...alive.
His jaw locked.
His fingers traced the jagged scar, and the hollow ache in his chest twisted tighter. He had failed her. The memory lingered, sharp and unforgiving, and even the distant pull of duty to this place couldn't pierce through the fog of guilt that held him.
He swung his legs over the side of the bed, the floor's chill jolting him fully awake. There'd be no going back to sleep. Not now.
The dream was over.
The memory would never be.
He stayed there for a moment, hands pressed against the rough wood, trying to shake off the lingering heat of the dream. The red fire, the green haze — they still burned behind his eyes, shadows etched into his mind. His fingers unconsciously traced the jagged scar again, the memory sharp and unforgiving. Even now, it felt like a warning. A reminder of everything he couldn't change.
The village was stirring outside. He could hear the dull scrape of shovels, the hammering of wood, the low murmur of voices bracing against the snow. The familiar sounds should have been comforting, but all he felt was a gnawing hollowness. He rose, pulling his coat tighter, and stepped toward the window.
Snow fell thick and steady, blanketing Luminaar in white. The broken palisades, half-repaired roofs, and ladders propped against the tower looked smaller under the snow, but Kael knew the danger beneath that serene layer. Shadowfangs. The thought made his stomach twist, but he forced it down, keeping his face neutral.
If the villagers sensed his panic, they would crumble before the monsters even arrived.
He wrapped his hands around the windowsill, eyes scanning the yard.
Villagers carried timber, stacking it near the walls. Guards tested the crude bear traps, their breath rising in mist as they cursed the cold.
Somewhere, a child tripped over a patch of earth, and a parent's sharp voice snapped through the air. Kael flinched. The scene tugged at something inside him — the helplessness, the fear, the same helplessness that had cost his sister everything.
He moved from the window and pulled on gloves, boots crunching against the snow as he stepped outside. The chill bit through his coat, sharp and bracing, forcing him fully into the present. He walked among the villagers, nodding at the guards, giving small instructions where needed. "Raise the ladder higher. Keep the spikes even along the palisade. Check the traps again." His voice was calm, but inside, his chest felt like it might split.
Every small action reminded him of what he could protect, but also of what he couldn't. A boy tried lifting a heavy beam, too much for his thin arms, and Kael caught it, shifting the weight for him. His fingers brushed the boy's frozen hands, and for a moment, he saw his sister, that small figure trapped in the swirl of red and green light.
It was a ghost of a thought, fleeting, but it hit harder than the cold wind.
I could have saved her. But... I didn't.
The realization brought a hollow ache that pulsed through his chest. The memory would never fade, the guilt would never leave entirely. But he was here now, and these people were alive. And if he let himself linger too long in what was lost, he could lose them too.
Kael exhaled, letting the cold burn down to his lungs, grounding himself. He had to move. To act. Every decision, every direction he gave, every trap checked was a step forward. A reminder that while he couldn't undo the past, he could shape the present.
He straightened his back, scanning the village again, letting his eyes rest on the men, women, and children working with him. The snow fell in steady silence, covering the world in white, but the weight of memory and guilt pressed firmly against his heart. He clenched his fists.
I won't fail them.
The nightmare was over. The memory would never leave, but Kael had a choice now — to move forward, to fight, and to protect what was still alive.