38. Kael
KAEL
Daren’s body lies motionless behind me.
The same ocean-blue eyes that laughed across the tavern table only a few nights ago are now open and unseeing. I looked too long at his face, imprinting the scene into my mind so I never forget what became of my friend.
My throat still tastes of metal.
I press a hand to my stomach as we cross the square, cold shivers rack my skin.
I force the bile back down. I reach into my pocket, bleeding the last of the miren crystal’s power—and my own threadbare faith—in a desperate attempt to reignite the flame within.
Not to fight, not to flee. Only to remember what it felt like to be steady.
The crystal hasn’t seen daylight in days, yet a small, familiar spark dances across my fingers and up my arm until it reaches my heart. I shudder as the wave crashes over me like a furnace being fed.
Do your shadow thing, and let’s be gone. Another ruin left in her wake.
The streets beyond the square glow faintly from the lanterns above. We have to reach the outer edges of the city before the sun rises and leaves us with no shadows left to hide in.
“This way,” I whisper, indicating the route.
We move through the alleyways, sticking to the corners where the dark still lingers. We are careful to avoid the market traders as they emerge from their homes, beginning the rhythmic, oblivious clatter of a new day.
My vision flicks through a montage of the last few days, and my role within them. What am I doing here? The glimpses I caught in the cavern were only a small, broken light. Reflecting off a truth I still don’t possess. I need more.
I squeeze my eyes shut, hoping the pressure of my people’s fate will subside. And that’s when I hear him.
An old man dressed in dark brown robes, wearing a half-obscured, cream-coloured mask, steps from his home.
Seren gasps. My arm whips out, my palm covering her mouth to smother the sound.
I glare at her darkened features as blackness swirls around her.
I press an index finger to my lips, a silent command for her to be still.
But the man turns. He faces the shadows—faces us.
He takes a step closer, his head tilting as he searches for the source of the sound. “Hello?” he rasps. “Anyone there?”
Tendrils of shadow creep toward him. My gaze follows their path. I pull my hand from Seren’s mouth, my eyes begging her to spare this innocent soul. Before I can think, the connection between us snaps taut, and I shout down the thread: Stop them, NOW.
She looks down, her eyes squinting hard as the shadows recoil like scolded hounds.
Relief washes through me as the man shrugs and walks away. How close he came to meeting Solan today—and how close I came to letting it happen.
We move through the underways, past the drainage arches and the rusted pipes that feed the city’s fountains.
The air tastes of ash and brine this far from the centre.
Every step feels wrong, dragging me further from the life I once understood.
I follow her because I can no longer live in a world built on gilded lies.
My people deserve to know what their gods are capable of.
But she killed him.
Daren.
He was the only person in this blinding city I could call a friend.
And you let her, something answers—soft, cold, and not a thought of my own.
Nyx. Her voice threads through my skull like silk through cloth. He drew steel. He chose the sun. You made your choice, Lightborne. You chose her. You know what she is, yet you question the means to the answers you so desperately seek?
My jaw aches as I clench down hard on my teeth. “Get out of my head,” I growl.
Seren glances toward me, her brow furrowing. “What?” she whispers.
“Nothing.”
The shadows ripple along the warehouse walls, flickering at the edges with their own pulse. I can’t look at them without seeing Daren’s silhouette breaking in the dark. The sounds of his bones snapping will never leave me.
If you want the screaming to stop, Nyx murmurs, voice velvet over a blade, stop pretending you didn’t choose.
A hiss escapes me as I try to purge her voice from my mind.
“Kael?” Seren’s voice is smaller this time, tentative.
“Keep walking. We’re almost there.”
We reach the edge of the industrial tier, where the city thins to warehouses and sleeping docks.
The towers behind us gleam in the early light—unbroken, untouchable.
On the horizon, a thin seam of silver glows with the rising sun as the sky bleeds from inky black to shades of rose and gold.
The sea to Palimora waits, a vast expanse of liquid silk lapping hypnotically against the rockface.
Seren’s jaw hangs loose. Her eyes widen, their movement swaying in time with the waves.
Part of me hates that she can still see the beauty—that the world offers her a masterpiece while my friend lies broken in the street.
I watch her absorb the salt tang and the distant, shimmering lights of the neighbouring city.
But the bells chime in the distance, signalling the break of dawn and shattering the dark thoughts in my head.
“Seren—” I pull her from her stupor. “We have to keep moving. Where does the map lead?”
She shakes her head, tearing her gaze from the rolling blue waves.
Her lids twitch as she visualises the map behind her eyes.
When she opens them, the violent ring of her iris is a stark, vibrant brand.
She looks past the warehouses toward the mouth of the Hollow—just out of reach in this light, with no shadows to obscure us.
I scan the perimeter for a sanctuary. “We should rest until nightfall, we’ve had no food for days and my energy is depleting. We also can’t risk the open roads in the daylight.”
I know these docks well—especially the warehouses the city has forgotten. “This way,” I say, nodding toward the structures ahead. We move together, staying as close as the fading dark allows.
The large, wooden door groans open. Dust and salt greet us, and a single narrow window cuts a blade of pale light across the floor.
“Stay here, I’ll make sure we’re alone.”
I leave before she can respond. Abandoned crates lie empty, straw scattered as if the contents were emptied in a frantic hurry. Dust plumes in the air as I kick back old tarps, checking for prying eyes. I keep my footsteps light as I move toward the washroom, making no more noise than a ghost.
My mind drifts to Daren. This feels like our old training operations: seeking an objective in derelict storehouses or villages, wherever the instructions took us. This is what I’ve trained for my entire life—stepping into the darkness to find whatever lurks there. Only now, I’m not the hunter.
I peer around the wall into the washroom half-expecting to see Daren rounding the corner. For a heartbeat, I almost call his name—almost forgetting he will never answer. Instead, I’m met with a vast expanse of nothingness that mirrors the cavernous space in my chest.
I finish the scout, every corner accounted for. My footsteps grow heavy as I return to the main floor. Seren sits with her back against the stone, consumed by what little shadow remains as dawn breaks fully.
I slide down the opposite wall, resting my head against the cold masonry as my gaze travels to the rafters.
Black fur enters my periphery as Eira’s weight lands on my lap, compressing my ribs until my breath comes in short, sharp bursts.
The velvet glow of her eyes finds mine, and I'm drawn into a galaxial abyss.
It’s only now that I realise they hold a kaleidoscope of secrets.
They aren’t a single hue, but a watercolour wash of sharp blues, pinks and purples, all dusted with the light of distant stars.
These celestial plumes intertwine around her iris that pulls all light inward, a void that drinks starlight.
A coldness spreads over me. The subtle ache behind my temple pulls on a black tether that snaps into place between our minds, like roots intertwining.
Eira releases a soft whine. She nudges me with a cold, wet nose. A pressure blooms behind my eyes—not words, not exactly. It’s a nudge of warmth. A plea wrapped in fur and old grief.
Don’t be mad at her, she says. Her voice is softer, gentler than I expected from such a primal form. The shadows have always had a mind of their own.
Shards of memory that are not mine spill through the connection: hunts in the deep tunnels, Lightborne screams, the sickening snap of bone. And beneath it all, a century of waiting in the dark, listening to the world forget her name.
My breath turns uneven. Memory after memory is thrown at me, and there is no way to dodge them. An invisible, chilling weight settles over us both—a silent pact sealed in shared shadow and unspoken dread.
My palms scrape the stone, the grit rubbing my skin raw as I pull away. Eira’s head jolts at the sudden movement, and the connection snaps, leaving nothing behind but a cold, echoing void.
Seren’s head tilts. Her violet-rimmed eyes pin me to the wall. Eira recoils to her side, resting her massive head back in Seren’s lap. Shadows slither across her spine, and the staff lies on the floor between us, its amethyst eye emitting a soft, rhythmic purple glow.
What a difference a few days have made. I no longer see a monster, but a goddess.
For a long time, neither of us speak. The silence is thick enough to choke on.
“I—I didn’t mean for—”
“What’s done is done.” I bite back. “There’s nothing we can do about it now.”
“Kael, I didn’t mean for him to—” Her voice cracks, and for a heartbeat she looks nineteen again. Just a girl. Not a goddess. “I panicked.”
Something inside me fractures at the way she says my name, but I force the feeling down, burying it beneath the grief.
“I’m not a…monster,” she whispers, as if to herself. “I’m seeking justice.”
Gods, I want to believe her.
My mark flares in time with her hand moving to the pendant at her throat. The room fills with the faint aroma of lavender and burnt smoke. I try to ignore her words as others take shape in my mind—heavier, older.
You will always follow the dark, Lightborne. It knows your name better than the Light ever did.
The mark on my wrist answers with a slow, traitorous pulse.