The medbay of the Ark was too quiet.
Kael sat in the chair beside his father's cot, staring at the man he had once idolized. General Darius Ardyn—hero of the Frontier Wars, strategist of legends—looked frail beneath the med scanners' pale light. His beard was streaked with white, his skin stretched thin over sharp bones.
But it wasn't the body that unsettled Kael. It was the eyes.
Darius's gaze drifted across the ceiling, as if he was still somewhere else—still inside the Crucible, still listening to Taren's poisonous whispers.
Kael leaned forward. "You're safe now. The Crucible's gone. Taren can't touch you here."
Darius's lips parted. His voice was raw, barely a whisper. "Safe? You don't understand, Kael. Taren is never gone. He lives in shadows. He lives… in you."
Kael's chest tightened. "That's not true."
But the doubt was there, buried deep.
Later, in the Ark's war-room, the crew gathered with Havenreach's council via holo-feed. The room buzzed with tension.
Councilor Venra, a hawk-eyed woman from Havenreach's ruling council, glared at Kael. "You risked everything to extract a single man. Do you realize how reckless that was? You endangered Havenreach, your crew, and the entire Frontier Alliance."
Kael's jaw clenched. "That 'single man' is General Darius Ardyn. His knowledge could turn the tide of this war."
"Or doom us," Venra shot back. "We don't know what Taren did to him. How much of him is still loyal to the Frontier—and how much is Ghost Fleet."
Joran slammed his hand on the table. "With respect, councilor, if we hadn't acted, the Ghost Fleet would still be running the Crucible. We took out their fortress and saved a hero of the war. That's a win in any book."
Rhea leaned back in her chair, smirking. "Unless your book was written by cowards."
"Enough." Lyra's voice cut through the argument. She stood tall, her presence commanding. "This war won't be won by fear. Kael chose to act, and because of that, thousands of lives will be spared from the Crucible's horrors. That matters."
Venra's expression hardened. "Perhaps. But the council will be watching closely. If General Ardyn cannot be trusted, it will fall on you, Kael Ardyn, to make the choice no son should have to make."
The feed cut. Silence lingered like smoke.
Kael felt the weight of every eye on him. He didn't flinch. "They can watch all they like. I won't abandon him."
That night, Kael returned to the medbay. His father was awake, staring at the stars beyond the viewport.
"You shouldn't look at them like that," Darius murmured.
Kael frowned. "Like what?"
"Like they're free. They're not. Not anymore. Taren… he has his claws in the void itself. He sees everything. He told me things, Kael. Things only I knew. Secrets of the Frontier. He reached inside me and pulled them out, like pages from a book."
Kael swallowed hard. "He broke you."
Darius's eyes flicked to him, sharp for just a moment. "No. He tested me. And I failed."
Kael leaned forward. "Then let me carry what you can't. You don't have to fight him anymore. That's my war now."
Darius studied him for a long time. "You're not ready."
"I wasn't ready to survive Cindralis. I wasn't ready to face the Crucible. But I did both. And I'll face him again, because I have to."
Darius's lips twitched, almost a smile. "You sound like your mother."
The words hit Kael like a blade. He hadn't heard anyone speak of her in years. He wanted to ask—wanted to know—but Darius's gaze clouded again, retreating back into silence.
Later, Kael found Lyra on the observation deck. She stood at the viewport, her hands clasped, eyes glowing faintly as she traced the constellations.
"You're worried," Kael said softly.
Lyra didn't turn. "Your father is a symbol, Kael. To your people, to the Frontier. But symbols can cut both ways. If he falters—if Taren has twisted him—it won't just break you. It could shatter everything you've built."
Kael moved closer. "You think I made a mistake."
"I think you followed your heart." Her voice was gentle, but heavy. "And hearts don't always see the whole field."
Kael exhaled. "You sound like him."
Lyra's eyes flicked to him. "Your father?"
"No. Taren."
She stepped closer, resting her hand on his chest. "You are not Taren. Remember that. Whatever he says, whatever lies he spins—you're still Kael Ardyn. And you're not alone."
For a moment, the war, the council, even his father's broken stare—all of it faded. There was only her, the warmth of her hand, the certainty in her voice.
Kael leaned down, pressing his forehead to hers. "Then stay with me. Don't let me lose myself."
"I won't," she whispered.
The Ark's alarms shattered the quiet.
Kael and Lyra sprinted to the war-room, where Rhea and Joran were already staring at the holo-screen. Static flickered—then Taren's face appeared.
The Ghost Admiral's eyes glowed with cold fire, his smile sharp as glass.
"Kael Ardyn. You've stolen from me. You've taken my prisoner, my fortress, my Warden. And yet, I am not angry. No. I am… amused."
Kael's fists clenched. "Spare me the theatrics, Taren."
"Oh, but theatrics are everything, Kael. Symbols, myths, shadows. That is how wars are truly won. And you've just handed me the greatest symbol of all."
The image shifted. Darius appeared—shackled, gaunt—but not as Kael saw him now. This was a recording, pulled from the Crucible.
Darius's voice echoed, broken: "Kael… he will destroy us all. He is the end."
The screen froze on his tortured face.
Taren's smile widened. "How long before the Frontier wonders if their great general was right? How long before they turn on you, Kael Ardyn? I don't need to kill you. I only need to let your father's words do the work for me."
The feed cut. Silence pressed down like a weight.
Rhea cursed under her breath. Joran punched the console.
Lyra turned to Kael, her eyes filled with fire. "Don't let him twist this. He's playing you."
Kael's heart pounded. He had saved his father's life. But in doing so, he may have given Taren the weapon to destroy everything.
Later, alone in his quarters, Kael stared at the stars. Taren's words echoed in his mind. His father's broken voice haunted him.
Was he the end? Was that why Taren fixated on him, why the council doubted him, why every step forward felt like dancing on a blade's edge?
No.
Kael forced the thought away. He had Lyra. He had his crew. He had the Frontier.
He would prove Taren wrong.
Even if it killed him.