Chapter 13: The Quarry's Heart
Kael's POV
Thorne didn't speak as he led us away from the river. He moved with a silence that seemed to absorb sound, his heavy, stone-dusted cloak making him look like a walking part of the mountain. I stumbled after him, my legs still shaky, Fenra pressing close to my side. Seraphine melted out from the trees ahead, her eyes wide with alarm as she took in Thorne's massive form. Her hands went to her daggers.
"Kael?" she called, her voice tight.
"It's alright," I said, my own voice trembling. "He... he helped me."
Thorne didn't even break stride. He just grunted, a sound like rocks tumbling, and continued walking. Seraphine fell in step beside me, her body tense, her gaze fixed on Thorne's back. The air between the three of us was thick with unspoken questions and suspicion.
We left the main path, pushing through a thicket that concealed a narrow, almost invisible track leading upward. After a steep climb, we rounded a bend, and the quarry opened before us.
It wasn't the crumbling, desolate place the vendor had described. It was a fortress.
The main pit was deep and vast, but it was the sheer walls that held the marvel. Thorne hadn't just been hiding here; he'd been building. Carved into the living rock were shelters, storage rooms, and lookouts. A clever system of channels diverted a small stream for fresh water. The stone wasn't just cut; it was shaped, with clean, precise lines that spoke of a deep, innate understanding of its nature. It was architecture, but of a brutal, practical kind. It was beautiful.
"You built this?" The words escaped me in a whisper of awe.
Thorne finally stopped, turning to look at me. In the full light of the quarry, I could see him clearly. He was a mountain of a boy, maybe a year older than me, with shoulders already broad enough to carry immense weight. His face was young, but his grey eyes held a weariness that belonged to someone much older. He had the hands of a stone mason, calloused and strong.
"I had time," he said, his voice a low rumble. His gaze then shifted to Seraphine, and the temperature in the quarry seemed to drop. "Lunaris."
Seraphine didn't flinch. "I left."
"Your kind doesn't 'leave'. They hunt." His hand, which had hung loosely at his side, curled into a fist. The ground beneath our feet gave a faint, almost imperceptible tremble.
"She saved my life," I said, stepping between them. The movement was instinctive. "She's protecting me."
"She's the reason you need protection!" Thorne's voice rose for the first time, echoing off the stone walls. "Her order hunts you! They killed the Sovereign! They killed my " He cut himself off, a muscle twitching in his jaw. The raw pain in his eyes was a shocking contrast to his stony exterior.
He was just a boy. A boy who had lost everything, just like me.
"Her name is Seraphine," I said, my voice quiet but firm. "And my mother trusted her enough to give her a chance. I'm asking you to do the same."
The silence that followed was heavy. Thorne's granite eyes bored into Seraphine, who met his gaze unflinchingly, though I could see the tightness around her mouth.
"I was there," Thorne said finally, the words ripped from him. "The day the Vanguard fell. I wasn't at the citadel. I was on a training mission. We saw the smoke." He looked away, his shoulders slumping slightly. "By the time we got back... there was nothing left. I'm all that's left of my unit."
The confession hung in the air. He wasn't a legendary warrior. He was a squire who had survived when his masters didn't. The weight of that guilt was etched into every line of his body.
"I've been waiting," he whispered, looking at the signet ring around my neck. "For a sign. For... you."
The last of my fear melted away, replaced by a profound, aching understanding. We were the same. All of us. Broken pieces of a shattered legacy.
Seraphine was the first to break the standoff. Slowly, deliberately, she sheathed her daggers. "I am not my order," she said, her voice clear in the quiet quarry. "I serve the Echoborn. I serve Kael. My vow is to him, not to the shadows I was born into."
Thorne watched her for a long moment, then gave a single, sharp nod. It wasn't friendship. It wasn't even full trust. It was an acknowledgment. A temporary truce, forged for my sake.
He turned and led us to one of the carved shelters. Inside, it was spartan but clean. There were pallets of dried grass, a small fire pit, and tools for working stone. He gestured to a stack of folded blankets.
"You can stay here," he said. "I'll find food."
He left without another word, his broad back disappearing into the quarry.
I sank onto one of the pallets, the exhaustion of the day finally overwhelming me. Fenra curled up at my feet with a contented sigh.
Seraphine sat beside me, her posture still wary. "He's strong," she murmured. "And he's been preparing for this."
I nodded, looking around the shelter Thorne had built with his own two hands. It wasn't the warm, glowing sanctuary of my childhood. It was cold stone, hard and unyielding.
But as I sat there, surrounded by the evidence of one boy's stubborn, lonely hope, I felt something I hadn't felt in a long time.
I felt like I had come home.
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What's Next:
Tensions ease as they share their stories. Thorne reveals he hasn't been idle in his exile—he's been gathering information, and he has a lead on where to find the next member of their team: Elira, the storm mage.
Thank you for reading! The foundation of the new Echo Guardians is being laid, one stone at a time.