The crystal platform at the heart of Aethelgard felt impossibly small, a lone island in a sea of mist. Kairen's frantic, guilty pacing had finally stopped, but his body still thrummed with a useless, panicked energy.
He had felt them. He had felt Lia's terror, Ilya's failure, and Kaelan's agonizing, sacrificial scream. And he had been here, safe, a prisoner.
Vanamali's words from the previous night echoed, a cold, hard truth. Kaelan had atoned. His friends had survived. And it was all, horrifyingly, because of him. His power was a 'burden'. A 'beacon'. A 'lure'.
"How?" Kairen's voice was a raw whisper, cutting through the tranquil sound of the valley's distant waterfall. He turned to face the Sage, his eyes wide and haunted. "How do I forge a 'cloak'? How do I learn to be an 'echo in the silence' when my very existence is a shout?"
Vanamali, who had been observing him with a profound, patient stillness, glided forward. The mist seemed to part for him, his white robes undisturbed.
