The fire crackled softly, spitting sparks into the night sky. We had finally stopped after a long day's march across the fields, and Kael had built a small campfire with a skill I could never imitate. The open plains were quiet now, except for the hum of insects and the occasional distant howl of some unseen beast.
Kael sat opposite me, his daggers resting by his side, his arms wrapped loosely around his knees. His eyes—usually sharp, cold, and unwavering—seemed distant tonight.
The egg I found earlier lay beside me, swaddled in cloth. For some reason, I felt protective over it, even though I didn't know what it was. My gaze kept shifting from Kael's face to the glowing embers, unsure of how to start a conversation.
Finally, I broke the silence.
"Kael," I said quietly, "back when you saved me… you fought without hesitation. Like it was instinct. How do you… do that? Aren't you afraid?"
He didn't answer at first. He just stared into the fire as if the flames themselves were whispering to him. Then, slowly, he said,
"Fear? …I lost that a long time ago. When you've watched everything burn, when screams become the song of your childhood, you don't fear anymore. You just… endure."
His voice had changed. It was no longer sharp or dismissive—it was heavy, brittle, like a glass holding too much weight.
I didn't speak. I just listened, because something in his tone told me he was opening a door he rarely ever let anyone see behind.
Kael's eyes narrowed, and for the first time since I met him, he looked… fragile.
"I was five years old when my world ended."
The firelight blurred as Kael's voice carried me into his memories.
"I still remember that day. The smell of rain on dry earth, the laughter of my mother as she scolded me for climbing rooftops. Our town, Serenthia… it wasn't grand like Avreth, but it was home. Traders came with spices and silks, farmers sold fresh grain, and children chased each other through narrow alleys. I was one of them—just a boy with dirt on his hands and too much energy for my father to keep up with."
He paused, his jaw tightening.
"But joy doesn't last long in this world."
The flames seemed to flare as he spoke, casting long shadows behind him.
"They came at dawn. The sky was still purple, the air still cold. I woke to the sound of horns—low, dreadful horns that carried across the hills. At first, I thought it was a festival. I ran outside, barefoot, smiling like an idiot… until I saw them."
Kael's voice dropped lower, rougher.
"Demons. Creatures with twisted faces and skin darker than coal, their eyes burning green, their teeth dripping with hunger. They poured into our town through the eastern gate, smashing through wood and stone as if it were nothing. Behind them… men in black armor, their insignias hidden. Not raiders. Not bandits. They moved with purpose. They wanted something."
His hands clenched unconsciously, fingers digging into his knees.
"My father grabbed me. He shouted for my mother to run. But before we could move… I saw her—my mother—cut down in front of me. A blade through her chest, so fast I didn't even realize she was gone until she fell to the ground with her eyes still open. I remember her face more than anything—the shock, the disbelief."
The crackle of the fire filled the silence. My heart pounded as Kael's words carved images into my mind.
"I screamed. I screamed so loud it tore my throat. My father pushed me behind him and tried to fight. He wasn't a soldier, just a blacksmith… but he fought like a lion protecting his cub. He killed one. Maybe two. But then… the horn sounded again."
Kael's eyes shimmered—not with tears, but with something darker.
"The demons swarmed him. I watched them rip him apart. I couldn't even move. My legs refused. I was five years old, standing in a puddle of my mother's blood, watching my father die. Do you know what that does to a child, Auren? It carves you hollow."
His voice broke for the first time, but only for a second. He swallowed it back, hard, and continued.
"I ran. Gods, I ran until my lungs burned. I heard children screaming, men begging, women cursing as flames swallowed their homes. The entire town became a sea of fire and blood. The people I grew up with—neighbors, friends, elders—they were all slaughtered. I tripped over bodies. Over people I knew."
Kael finally looked up at me. His eyes weren't empty—they were filled with a storm that had never left him.
"And then… I saw her."
"Her?" I asked gently.
"A girl," Kael whispered. "My sister. She was only three. Somehow she had survived the first wave. She ran to me, calling my name. For a moment, I thought… maybe I could save her. Maybe I could at least save one person. I reached out to her. She was just steps away from me…"
He stopped. His throat worked as if forcing the next words out would tear him apart.
"…and then an arrow went through her head."
The world fell silent. Not even the insects outside dared to hum.
Kael stared into the fire, his face pale in its glow.
"She fell before I even caught her. Blood on her cheeks, her little hands reaching for me. I… I didn't even scream this time. My voice was gone. My soul was gone."
For a moment, I thought he would break. But Kael was Kael. His pain had long since calcified into steel.
"I don't remember how I lived. I think I crawled into the forest. Hours later, a group of hunters found me, half-dead, half-insane. They raised me, taught me the blade, taught me to hunt. But Serenthia… my home… was erased. Nothing left but ash. I am the last of them. Every time I close my eyes, I hear the horns. Every time I sleep, I see her face."
Kael's voice finally faded. The fire popped loudly, almost as if reminding us we were still here, still alive.
I didn't know what to say. What words could possibly exist for something like that?
"Kael…" I whispered, but the name felt fragile on my tongue.
He shook his head.
"Don't pity me, Auren. Pity is useless. What matters is that I live. I kill monsters, I hunt, I survive. I've turned my grief into a blade, and I'll keep cutting until the day I die."
There was silence again. Only the flames and the weight of his story hung between us. I looked at him—not just as the boy who saved me, but as someone scarred deeper than I could ever imagine.
And in that moment, I realized something terrifying.
This world didn't care who you were, how old you were, or what dreams you had. It would tear everything from you and laugh while you bled. Kael was proof of that.
I pulled the egg closer to my chest, almost instinctively. Maybe it was foolish, but holding it gave me a strange sense of warmth. A reminder that something new could still exist in all this destruction.
"Kael," I said softly, "I'm… glad you survived. Because if you hadn't… I'd already be dead."
He looked at me, and for the first time, a faint, almost invisible smile crossed his lips.
"Rest, Auren. Tomorrow, the road gets harder."
He turned away, lying down on his bedroll. Within minutes, his breaths slowed, steady and calm.
I lay awake longer, staring at the stars above. My thoughts twisted like shadows—about Kael's past, about this cruel world, about why I was even here at all.
The egg pulsed faintly in my arms, almost like a heartbeat. And as I closed my eyes, I wondered…
What if this egg was meant to change everything?