The plateau was cold, the stone beneath them still trembling from the fissure's collapse. Smoke curled up from the depths, glowing faintly with a fire that refused to die.
No one spoke at first. Their breaths came ragged, uneven. The silence pressed in harder than the herald's roar.
Elara stared into the chasm, her nails digging into the stone until they bled. Her sun-eye burned, but she refused to close it. Somewhere below, Kael's thread pulsed within the lattice, alive but twisted, coiled by something vast and terrible.
Tomas lowered himself beside her, his face ashen, sweat dripping down his temples. "Elara. We have to move. If it climbs…"
"I can't," she whispered. "He's still there. He's alive."
Marek barked a bitter laugh. "Alive? You saw it claim him! The chains chose him, not you. You want to run back down there? Be its next offering?"
Elara whirled on him, voice raw. "He didn't choose it!"
Marek's one good hand clenched into a fist. "Maybe not. But the herald doesn't take without purpose. And if he's theirs now, he's not ours."
The words struck like blows. Seris hissed at Marek to shut up, but he didn't. His grief had no room for mercy.
Night fell heavy. They made camp in the shadow of jagged cliffs, the fire Tomas conjured faint and unsteady. The air was sharp with ash.
Elara sat apart from the others, staring at her trembling hands. Each time she closed her eyes, she saw Kael's face — not as it had been, but crowned in fire, eyes glowing gold, smiling a smile that wasn't his.
Her chest ached with something worse than fear: guilt. She had begged him to come. She had believed the Silent Hour bound them together. Now, maybe it had — in the worst way imaginable.
Seris crouched beside her, placing a hand on her shoulder. "We'll find a way," she said softly. "If anyone can break the lattice's grip, it's you."
Elara shook her head. "What if I can't? What if the lattice is stronger?"
Seris's eyes hardened. "Then we fight it anyway."
Far below, Kael drifted in a place without ground or sky.
Chains wound through the void, endless, radiant, pulsing with heat. They pierced him, not with pain, but with presence. His heart beat with their rhythm.
He tried to move. His limbs answered sluggishly, as though each motion dragged oceans behind it.
Then the reflection appeared again.
It wore his face, but perfect, unmarred by scars. Its eyes blazed brighter than his sun-scorched dreams. A crown of chains rested easily upon its brow, not heavy, not crushing, but regal.
"You fight still," it said, voice smooth, unbroken. "But why? The world is ash. The lattice offers order. Purpose. No more fear, no more hunger. Only strength."
Kael spat into the void, though no ground received it. "You're not me."
The reflection smiled wider. "Not yet. But soon. Elara cannot save you. She will try, yes. She will burn herself hollow. And when she fails, she will join you. Then the two flames will be one fire."
Kael's chest tightened. The prophecy echoed in his mind: One must bind. One must break.
"I won't be your crown," he growled.
Chains coiled tighter, humming like laughter.
Above, dawn bled across the cliffs. The group packed what little remained of their supplies.
Nalia's hands shook as she wrapped a bandage around Jorn's scraped arm. She glanced at Elara with wide, terrified eyes. "If he's alive down there… is he still Kael?"
Elara forced herself to answer. "Yes." Then quieter: "He has to be."
Tomas studied her with weary eyes. He knew the truth she couldn't admit — that every heartbeat tied Kael closer to the herald's will.
Marek shouldered his broken sword. "We're wasting time. Either we press on to the Silent Citadel or we go back down and die with him."
Elara rose to her feet, fists clenched. "We press on. If there's a way to break this curse, it's there."
And in her chest, the lattice pulsed, Kael's thread tugging against her own, a tether of fire and chains.
Deep in the void, Kael stumbled forward. The reflection walked beside him, whispering truths he refused to accept.
Every lie wore the shape of a promise.Every chain felt like destiny.
And with each passing moment, Kael could no longer tell whether the smile on the reflection's face was only his… or already Elara's too.
The plateau wind howled as though the earth itself mourned. Their small fire guttered in the ash-laden breeze.
Elara could not sleep. She sat at the edge of the cliff, her knees pulled to her chest, the glow of the fissure below still staining the horizon. Every few moments, she thought she heard it—Kael's voice carried faintly, like a whisper through stone. But when she strained to listen, there was nothing. Only the crackle of the dying fire.
Marek approached, heavy-footed, his bandaged arm stiff at his side. He dropped beside her without a word, staring into the abyss. For a long while, silence stretched between them.
"You think he's still himself," Marek muttered finally.
Elara nodded slowly. "I feel him. Through the lattice. He hasn't vanished."
"That's worse," Marek said, jaw tight. "Because if he's alive in there… it means he's fighting, and he'll lose."
Elara's breath hitched. "You don't know that."
Marek's gaze didn't soften. "I know what chains do, Elara. They drag you down until there's nothing left. And if he becomes the herald's creature…" His voice cracked, but he forced it steady. "…then the next time we see him, he'll be our enemy."
Her heart twisted at the thought. She wanted to scream at Marek, to strike him for his blunt cruelty. But part of her feared he was right.
Seris's voice drifted from the camp. "We're low on water. Food won't last more than three days."
Tomas answered, weary. "We'll have to risk the lower streams. Even if they're fouled."
Elara turned back to the abyss, nails biting her palms. She wanted to leap back down, to drag Kael out by sheer will, but she knew the lattice would devour her too. For now, all she could do was endure.
The Silent Hour had bound them. If he was still burning within it, so was she.
Far below, Kael staggered through the void.
The reflection walked at his side like an old friend. Its voice was a calm tide, eroding resistance grain by grain.
"See them above," it murmured, gesturing with a chain-wreathed hand.
The void shimmered, and Kael gasped as visions flared:
Elara huddled at the cliff's edge, tears streaking her face. Tomas, coughing blood into his hand as he tended the fire. Seris hiding her fear behind sharp words. Marek glaring at the abyss, blade clutched in his good hand. Nalia rocking Jorn, whispering lullabies though her own lips trembled.
Kael reached toward them, throat aching with longing.
The reflection leaned close, whisper warm against his ear. "Do you see? They suffer. Always. Hunger, fear, grief. But you could end it. Wear the crown. Bear the weight. Let the chains bind them into peace."
Kael tore his gaze away, but the images seared into him. "Peace?" he spat. "That's not peace. That's slavery."
The reflection smiled. "Slavery is a word the weak give to order."
Chains tightened around his arms, not crushing but guiding, like reins on a beast. Each pulse sent strength into his veins, filling him with fire. For one terrifying heartbeat, it felt good.
Kael bit his tongue until blood filled his mouth. "I won't give in."
The reflection only smiled wider. "You already have."
Above, dawn broke harsh and colorless.
The group moved sluggishly across the plateau, packs slung over weary shoulders. Every step echoed with hunger and thirst. Even Marek, unyielding, stumbled.
Elara trailed behind, one hand pressed to her temple as the sun-eye burned with visions she couldn't control: chains coiling through the earth, the herald's fire spreading unseen, and Kael standing at the center, a crown of chains casting its shadow over the world.
She nearly collapsed until Seris caught her arm. "Steady. Don't let it take you too."
"I can't stop seeing it," Elara whispered.
"Then use it," Seris urged. "Turn their fire back on them."
Elara nodded, though doubt gnawed at her. Each time she touched the lattice, it touched her back.
That night, Kael dreamed—or perhaps he only drifted deeper into the herald's grasp.
He saw Elara again, but not as she was. She stood crowned as well, her sun-eye blazing gold, her body burning with threads that stitched her to him.
"Two flames," the herald's voice thundered. "One must bind. One must break."
Kael reached for her. She reached back.
Chains tightened between them, snapping taut.
And in the reflection's smile, Kael saw the truth he dreaded most: this was no choice between him and Elara. This was a choice between them together… or the world.