****
Fire. Screams. The splintering echo of a throne hall collapsing under its own betrayal.
Kael stood in the middle of it all, a boy too young to die, yet already watching the world end. His twin sister's blood-slick hand gripped his tightly, the only anchor between reality and the nightmare. Bodies lay strewn in the flickering light—royal guards, handmaidens, his brothers. All except one.
The traitor. His older brother, face unreadable, eyes full of cold purpose.
Kael's breath caught—he turned to shield his sister, and the vision snapped.
*****
He awoke with a sharp breath, chest rising fast beneath the thin blanket. The ceiling of their cottage met his gaze—rough beams and shadows carved by morning light. Silence pressed in around him, broken only by distant birds and the faint creak of wood adjusting to the new day.
His hand was still curled.
As if hers was still there.
Kael sat up slowly.
The dream always ended there—before the fire reached them.
Before the world rewrote itself in ash.
He ran a hand through his dark, slightly unkempt hair, eyes catching the faint light through the window—warm, brown, and unreadable.
The scent of smoke still lingered in the walls. It always did.
Beyond the cracked wooden door, the town stirred awake.
Morning sunlight filtered down broken rooftops, glinting off old stone and weathered stalls. The marketplace began to hum—slow and distant.
Among it all ,walked a boy - seventeen, maybe eighteen - his presence like a cold draft through the town square. He was neither hurried nor idle, simply existing, eyes dull, expression unreadable.
Kael.
Few knew his name, Kael Thorne.
Fewer still dared speak it.
He kept to himself, a silent figure who arrived two years ago with a younger girl by his side. Veila. His twin—at least that's what the whispers said.
No relatives. No history. No past.
The girl, Veila Thorne,his twin, some whispered was the opposite. Bright, kind, always speaking with the vendors and offering to help the old woman with her baskets. Where she brought warmth, he brought shadow.
Kael watched. And when spoken to, he answered—but never more than needed.
She carried warmth. Kael carried the absence of it.
---
Kael entered the small eatery near the square,where the scent of root stew and warm bread filled the air. The innkeeper gave a short nod—no words passed between them-none needed.
He took his usual seat by the window, facing out toward the street where carts rolled over cobblestone and voices drifted like smoke.
His meal arrived shortly—a wooden bowl of thick barley stew and a slab of rye bread. He ate quietly, slowly, finishing every bite without lifting his eyes.
When done, he set three copper coins on the corner of the table. Exactly counted.
Then rose, pushed the chair back gently,the chair legs scraping softly against the floor and stepped out into the square.
-----
The deeper streets of the old town swallowed him—alleys of stone and hanging lanterns. Cracks ran through every wall, ivy curling through the seams like old veins. Kael walked with hands in his pockets, silent, unnoticed, a part of the scenery.
He wandered without aim, just as he always did, silent and unnoticed except for the occasional sideways glance from vendors or townsfolk.
All of them knew him. Or thought they did.
He had barely spoken to anyone since the day he arrived.
A small boy burst from a side alley, clutching a toy sword made of wood and wrapped in cloth. He wasn't watching.
He collided with Kael—hard—then tumbled backward, hitting the dirt.
Kael stopped.
The boy blinked up, stunned.
A girl—maybe his sister—rushed over, flustered.
"I'm so sorry! He never watches where he's going—"
Kael met her gaze.
Then, quietly, he smiled. Barely.
"It's alright," he said, voice calm and flat—like an instrument tuned too rarely, but still capable of beauty.
The girl hesitated. Then smiled back.
"Thank you," she said softly.
Kael walked on.
Behind him, the boy watched, toy sword forgotten for a moment.
He hadn't seemed cold.
Just… distant.
And for the first time, maybe even a little human.
---
The sky had just begun to turn lilac, light melting gently behind the hills. Warm hues spilled across the quiet outskirts where the houses stood simple and far apart, surrounded by wind-swept grass.
In one of them, soft light glowed through the open window. Veila sat inside, a pale cloth wrapped around a young girl's arm. The wound was shallow but messy — the kind of cut a careless sprint through thornbush would leave.
"Try not to move," Veila said gently, fingers glowing faintly green as she hovered them over the wound. The flesh shimmered, stitched itself silently back together. A breath passed. Then the pain was gone.
The girl watched Veila in quiet awe.
"You've got such a soft touch," she murmured. "Your healing… it's good. You could really help people if you ever joined the soldiers' recruitment."
Veila's hands paused only a second.
"I'm not ready to witness war," she said simply. No hesitation. Just truth.
Another girl nearby perked up. "The recruitment's in two weeks, right? Are you really not going to try?"
"I already said no."
The first girl sighed. "You could save lives, Veila. You've already saved mine."
One of the others leaned forward with a sly grin. "Then maybe Kael should go."
Veila blinked. "Kael?"
"Yeah. I mean, he looks like he wouldn't hesitate. That cold look of his? That could work in war."
The second girl snorted. "If you could even get him to show up. He acts like he doesn't even know the rest of us exist."
In the far corner, two other girls exchanged glances. One leaned in, whispering loud enough for the room to hear.
"Figures. Guess that's why she hangs out near the edge of town all day, patching kids instead of doing real work."
The other girl shrugged. "Still better than Kael, though. That guy won't even look at anyone. You could wave at him and he'd stare right through you."
The girl who had been healed shook her head. "Maybe he's not what you think."
The other two rolled their eyes.
"He's cold. Always alone. Always ignoring people."
"Cold isn't always cold," the girl replied. Her fingers touched the fresh bandage. "Someone once told me… quiet people aren't always distant. Sometimes they're just tired of everything that isn't real."
The room went still for a moment.
Then Veila stood, taking the used cloth to the basin without a word.
Outside, unseen by all of them, Kael stood leaned against the house wall, arms folded. He hadn't meant to stay, but the girl's words held him in place.
"Tired of everything that isn't real…"
His eyes stayed on the horizon, expression unreadable. But deep in the silence of his mind, the words echoed.
He stepped away. Quiet as wind through the grass.