The mountains rose like teeth from the earth.
Kaelen had thought the Shadowfen suffocating, but the Spine was worse in its own way—vast, cold, and unrelenting. Wind howled through jagged passes, carrying with it voices that weren't there, whispers that made the hairs on his neck rise. His armor felt heavier with each step, his chest still aching from the fire he'd wielded in the clearing.
Lyra led the way, her cloak snapping in the icy gusts. She moved with purpose, but Kaelen saw the stiffness in her shoulders, the fatigue she buried beneath command.
"You're limping," he said quietly.
She didn't slow down. "And you're burning."
Kaelen's jaw tightened. She wasn't wrong. Since the fight with Verrick, the fire inside him hadn't settled. It licked at his veins, restless, hungry. His palms itched with heat, his heart drummed too fast. He feared what would happen if he lost control again.
"Do you trust me?" she asked suddenly.
The question caught him. "What kind of question is that Lyra?"
"The kind where the wrong answer could kill us both."
He swallowed, then nodded. "I do."
"Then hold on to that," she said softly, "when the mountain tests us."
By nightfall, they reached a hollow in the cliffs where a faint glow pulsed. Lyra raised her hand, fire sparking at her fingertips, but the glow resolved into lanterns—dozens, swaying gently in the wind.
Figures stepped forward. Tall, slender, their features sharp and otherworldly. Fae.
At their head stood a man cloaked in black and silver, his hair pale as moonlight, his violet eyes glowing faintly in the dark. He was beautiful in a way that cut—like a blade honed too fine.
"Cousin," he said, voice smooth as silk over steel. "I thought the Spine had devoured you."
Lyra stiffened. "Tharos."
Kaelen's gut twisted. He'd never heard her voice so taut, so cold.
The fae prince stepped closer, his smile thin. "And yet here you are. With… company." His gaze slid to Kaelen, lingering with disdain. "A human. Interesting taste."
Kaelen bristled but said nothing. The man's aura pressed down on him like weight, thick with power.
Lyra lifted her chin. "I didn't come for your approval. I came for shelter."
Tharos's smile widened. "And I will grant it. For blood is blood, even tainted with treason." His eyes flicked to Kaelen again, sharp as daggers. "But perhaps we should discuss… certain choices."
The Spine's refuge was carved into the mountain itself, an ancient fae hold lit with cold lanterns and guarded by wards that shimmered faintly on the stone.
Kaelen had never felt more out of place. Every corridor whispered of magic and age, every glance from the fae burned with contempt. He had endured Serenya's scorn, Verrick's wrath—but here, he was less than nothing.
Lyra noticed. Of course she did.
"They hate me," Kaelen muttered under his breath as they passed a row of watchful sentries.
"They fear you," Lyra corrected. "The fire within you is not… ordinary."
"Feels more like a curse."
She stopped, turning to face him. For once, her eyes were unguarded, stormy with something close to regret. "Power always feels like a curse before it becomes a choice."
Before he could answer, Tharos appeared, gliding from the shadows like he belonged to them.
"Walk with me, cousin," he said to Lyra, then glanced at Kaelen. "Alone."
Kaelen's hand went to his sword sharp. "She's not going anywhere without me."
Tharos's lips curved. "And there it is—the dog growls." He stepped closer, his violet gaze locking with Kaelen's. "You reek of fire, human. Of prophecy. Do you even know what burns in you? Or are you just a fool carrying a flame that will consume her world?"
Kaelen felt the heat rising in his chest, his fingers trembling with the urge to ignite. But Lyra's hand brushed his arm aside, steadying him.
"Tharos," she said, her tone cutting. "Stop."
For a heartbeat, tension thickened the air, magic sparking like static. Then Tharos smiled again, stepping back. "Very well. But remember, cousin—the Spine whispers. And the mountain does not lie. Whatever he is, you cannot hide it here."
---
That night, Kaelen couldn't sleep. The whispers in the stone grew louder, curling into his dreams. Fire, shadow, chains. A crown of flame crushing his skull.
He woke gasping, the heat in his chest roaring. For a moment he thought he'd set the chamber alight—but Lyra was there, kneeling beside him, her hands cool against his temples.
"Breathe," she whispered. "Don't fight it. Let me in."
Her magic brushed his, fire meeting fire, two flames entwining. The blaze calmed down, not quenched but steadied, as if her presence gave it shape.
Their faces were close to each other, her silver hair brushing his cheek, her eyes burning brighter than any flame.
"Kaelen," she murmured, "you are not alone in this."
For the first time, he believed her.
And for the first time, he feared how much that meant to him.