Night came quickly in the valley.
After the nightmare realm they had escaped, the simple darkness of real night felt almost comforting. The stars were sharp and bright, scattered across the sky like silver dust. A cool wind drifted through the grass, carrying the scent of pine and riverwater.
Kael and Lira slept beside the small fire Maelor had built—Kael wrapped in his cloak, Lira curled against his shoulder, exhaustion dragging both of them into deep, dreamless rest.
Maelor sat a short distance away, legs crossed, arms loosely folded, staring upward at the starless sky with thinly veiled irritation.
"So," he muttered to himself, "we survived. No thanks to… well, anything comprehensible. Brilliant."
He plucked a pebble and flicked it into the gloom.
It bounced once.
Twice.
Then vanished into a ripple.
The ground ate it like water.
Maelor stared at the disturbance.
"…I hate this place."
The air behind him shifted.
Not loudly.
Not dramatically.
Not even noticeably to mortal senses.
But Maelor felt it.
A pressure—like the universe inhaled.
He closed his eyes.
Grimaced.
And sighed the longest, most defeated sigh imaginable.
"Oh great," he said flatly. "You."
A voice rolled into existence behind him, warm and playful and far too amused for Maelor's liking.
"Miss me?"
Azhorael had appeared.
Not stepping.
Not arriving.
Simply present—as if he had always been there and only now chose to be noticed.
He leaned against a crooked stone pillar with the casual posture of someone who absolutely knew he owned this conversation.
The air distorted faintly around him, but no light or color betrayed his shape—only the outline of a figure wrapped in impossible stillness.
Maelor dragged a palm across his face.
"Why," he groaned, "must you always do this? Sneaking up like a smug cosmic… whatever-you-are."
"Because it bothers you," Azhorael said cheerfully.
"And I derive joy from simple pleasures."
Maelor glared.
"Don't you have creation-shattering responsibilities to attend to?"
Azhorael waved a hand lazily.
"Oh, countless. Endless. Monumental.
Yet here I am, choosing to grace you with my radiant presence.
Feel honored."
"Radiant?" Maelor scoffed. "You're not even visible."
"Radiance is a state of being."
Maelor opened his mouth to reply with what was surely going to be an insult spectacularly lacking in respect—but Azhorael beat him to it.
"Relax, Maelor. They won't wake."
Maelor's eyes flicked toward Kael and Lira's sleeping forms.
"You'd better hope not," he hissed. "If they see you, everything becomes even more complicated."
Azhorael gave a low hum of amusement.
"Complication is the forge of destiny."
"Spare me your poetic nonsense."
"Never."
Maelor groaned again, louder this time.
"Why are you here?"
Azhorael tilted his head.
"To check on my creations."
Maelor stiffened.
"…Creations?"
Azhorael's tone sharpened—still playful, but with a weight beneath it.
**"Kael.
Lira.
Their paths intertwine with threads older than this world.
And someone"—his tone curled like a smile—"thought it wise to hurl them at Azaroth Nimbus ."
Maelor bristled.
"I didn't hurl anything! I didn't even know they were going to be attacked until—"
"Until you nearly watched them die," Azhorael finished, voice soft.
Maelor fell silent.
The cosmic presence stepped closer—not physically, but the world responded as if he had leaned in.
"You worry for them," Azhorael said.
"Good. They will need someone mortal who understands fear."
Maelor shot him a sideways look.
"…Is that supposed to be advice?"
"It is the closest you will get."
Azhorael's tone then shifted—lighter, mischievous again.
"Also, Maelor…"
"What now?"
"Do try not to let Kael die before his flame matures.
He is endlessly inconvenient to replace."
Maelor sputtered. "I—WHAT? Replace?! He's a person, not—"
Azhorael chuckled.
"Goodnight, Riddle-Man."
The air blinked.
He was gone.
Just like that.
No flash.
No sound.
No ripple.
Only silence remained.
Maelor stared at the empty space where Azhorael had been and muttered:
"…I really, truly, absolutely despise cosmic beings."
He looked at the sleeping forms of Kael and Lira.
His expression softened.
"Let's hope you two wake up with fewer problems than you fell asleep with."
The darkness around them settled.
Still.
Quiet.
But fate never truly rested.