The sky over the Sunbound Capital was too bright.
Gold banners rippled from the spires, sunlight glinting against the polished metal like a sea of little suns. Choirs echoed from the terraces. Crowds packed every balcony, bridge, and rooftop, craning their necks to see one person:
Kael Wynn.
Their hero.
Their savior.
The boy who "stopped the collapse."
Except Kael knew the truth as he stood on the parade platform, fists pressed to his sides.
He hadn't saved a damn thing.
"Kael! Kael! Kael!"
The chanting rolled across the plaza, shaking the air.
Confetti rained down—thin sheets of shimmering crystal spun into the likeness of falling stars. The float he stood on moved toward the Grand Promenade, pulled by four Vein-construct horses sculpted from glowing white filaments.
A woman leaned over the barrier, tears running down her cheeks.
"Bless you, Hero Wynn! You saved us!"
Kael managed a smile. It felt like bending a rusted hinge.
He raised a hand, and the crowd roared louder. People reached out as though touching him might bring them luck or health. Or proof that they lived in the same world as a miracle.
If only they knew.
A child on her father's shoulders waved a little flag bearing Kael's emblem—an upward spiral of light. She looked maybe six. Big eyes. Missing front tooth. She stared at him like he was some kind of myth made flesh.
Kael's chest tightened painfully.
He looked away.
General Samira, riding beside the float on her armored raptor, leaned toward him. Her gold-plated helm gleamed like a second sun.
"You're doing well," she said quietly. "Keep your head up."
Kael swallowed. "Right."
He tried. He really did. But the Grand Promenade stretched ahead like a corridor of expectation, and every step forward felt like a lie growing heavier on his back.
The streets beneath the float vibrated as marching columns of Sunbound Sentinels flanked him—gleaming armor, mirrored visors, synchronized steps. Their movements were perfect.
Kael felt anything but.
"Hero Wynn!"
"Bless the Sun!"
"Thank you!"
Their voices hit him like waves.
His breathing stuttered. He forced it steady.
You survived, he reminded himself. That's all you did. You didn't save them. You just didn't die.
But the council had spun a different story. One that painted him in holy light. One that made him the centerpiece of a narrative he barely understood.
The Vein explosion, the sudden collapse, the blinding light—
all he remembered was waking up in the rubble, alive when no one else near the blast point was.
That didn't make him a hero.
It made him a question.
As they reached the midpoint of the Promenade, the massive cathedral-like structure of the Luminary Hall came into view. A crystal prism hovered above it, rotating slowly, projecting faint spirals of light across the sky.
A symbol of hope.
A symbol they said he rekindled.
Kael's stomach twisted.
The float slowed to a stop.
An announcer stepped forward on the elevated stage, hands raised for silence. His voice boomed through the plaza:
"People of the Sunbound Capital! Today we celebrate the dawn that rose from darkness! Today we honor the one whose courage restored our world: Kael Wynn, Hero of the Veins!"
The crowd erupted.
Kael's vision blurred.
Not from emotion.
From shame.
He climbed the steps to the stage, each footstep louder in his mind than the hundreds of thousands cheering. Samira stayed at the base, arms crossed, eyes scanning the crowd with an expression Kael couldn't read.
He stood before the podium.
The plaza fell quiet, eager, breathless.
Kael looked out at them.
At their hope.
At their belief.
At the version of himself they thought existed.
A polished mirror of a life he didn't live.
He opened his mouth—
—and the words wouldn't come.
His throat locked. His heart slammed painfully. The weight of every stare pressed against him until he felt hollow and exposed. Like the world was looking at the wrong person.
A breeze brushed his hair.
A single thought cut through the noise:
I don't deserve this.
The announcer leaned toward him, whispering urgently, "Say something, boy."
But Kael barely heard him. Because in the sea of faces, high on a balcony, he saw a cloaked figure—still, unmoving, watching him with a focus that sliced right through the celebration.
Kael blinked.
The figure stepped back and vanished into the shadows.
He felt a chill creep down his spine.
Something shifted in the light above the stage, just faintly, as if responding to him—and Kael saw the prism flicker.
He froze.
Did anyone else see that?
When he glanced around, the audience looked normal again, breath held in anticipation.
Kael straightened.
His voice came out softer than he intended.
"…I'm not sure I did anything worthy of this."
A ripple moved through the crowd. Confusion. Surprise.
Kael forced a half-smile.
"I'm grateful to be alive," he said, honest words, stripped of heroics. "And grateful all of you are too. That's… enough, I think."
The silence that followed was thick, questioning. The council probably wanted a speech of triumph, not vulnerability.
But the people—
some of them nodded, understanding, maybe even appreciating the sincerity.
The applause grew slowly.
Gentle at first.
Then stronger.
Samira exhaled in relief.
Kael stepped back from the podium.
But the faint flicker of the prism above didn't leave his mind. It wasn't supposed to do that. The Vein constructs never malfunctioned. They were ancient, perfect things.
Unless they were reacting.
To him.
The ceremony ended with ceremonial fireworks—sunbursts of golden fire and crackling spirals that danced in the sky. People sang hymns of the Sunbound Light while Kael stood quietly beside Samira, smiling politely, answering congratulatory words he barely heard.
As soon as it was over, he slipped away from the officials with practiced ease.
He needed air.
He needed silence.
He needed to stop pretending.
He reached a lower balcony overlooking the central canal. The city glittered like a jewel, but Kael's reflection in the water looked pale and tired.
"Hero," he muttered bitterly at himself.
He leaned on the railing.
"It wasn't you."
Kael stiffened.
A man stood beside him—one of the council ministers, tall, wearing a pristine white coat embroidered with golden thread. Minister Coradan. His expression was pleasant, but his eyes were sharp.
"What did you say?" Kael asked quietly.
Coradan smiled. "Oh, forgive me. I sometimes speak aloud when thinking." He looked out over the canal. "You performed well today. The people adore you."
Kael forced a nod. "Thank you."
"But don't mistake their adoration for the truth," Coradan added softly. "History is not what happens. It's what we choose to remember."
Kael's fingers tightened on the railing. "And what did really happen?"
Coradan's smile didn't reach his eyes.
"That," he said, "is a discussion for another day."
He walked away, coat fluttering behind him.
Kael exhaled shakily.
That man always left him feeling… examined. Classified. Filed away.
He turned back toward the city—
And froze.
A courier was hurrying toward him, breathless, holding a sealed package wrapped in dark cloth.
"For Kael Wynn," the courier panted. "Urgent delivery."
Kael frowned. "From who?"
"No sender. Just said it had to reach you today."
Kael hesitated. Something about the weight of the package, the faint hum beneath the cloth, sent a prickling tension up his arms.
He dismissed the courier, lifted the cloth, and nearly dropped the object.
A Shadefall relic.
Cool obsidian metal. Ancient runes glowing faintly.
And engraved along its curved surface:
KAEL WYNN
YEAR 217 — SHADEFALL ERA
Kael's heart stopped.
The Shadefall Era ended two centuries ago.
This wasn't possible.
He ran his fingers over the inscription, breath shallow.
There were only two explanations.
Either someone forged an artifact with his name on it…
Or this thing had existed long before he was ever born.
The relic thrummed softly in his hands—like a heartbeat.
Kael looked around, suddenly paranoid, suddenly cold.
The celebration.
The flicker in the prism.
The cloaked figure watching him.
Coradan's strange words.
And now this relic with his name engraved two hundred years in the past.
Something was wrong.
Very, very wrong.
Kael wrapped the relic again and slipped it into his coat.
He didn't know yet what it was.
But he felt one thing with absolute clarity:
His life—his identity—had just cracked open.
And whatever waited behind that crack…
was already moving toward him.