Kael froze at her words.
For the first time since she met him, he looked uncertain — as if her voice had touched something buried deep beneath the steel and silence.
Lyra… he said softly, almost warningly.
She stepped closer. The faint golden glow of her magic flickered across his face, outlining the scars she'd never noticed before — faint lines etched not by time, but by the process of unmaking and remaking.
You keep saying you can't feel, she whispered. But every time I look at you, I see someone who wants to.
His eyes narrowed slightly. Wanting and being able are not the same.
Then maybe you just forgot how.
Kael turned away, but she caught his sleeve. The fabric was still warm from battle. Let me help you remember.
The moment hung in the air — too fragile to name, too dangerous to hold. Then Kael gently pulled free. Don't mistake memory for feeling, Lyra. One burns you. The other keeps you alive.
He sheathed his blade and walked a few paces toward the edge of the Vale, where the sky was beginning to pale with early light. We need to move before the next wave comes.
Lyra followed, refusing to let the silence win. You said I wasn't supposed to exist. What did you mean?
Kael's jaw tightened. There was a purge before you were born. The Council destroyed all records of the original Soulbinders. But somehow, the spark — your spark — survived. You carry what they feared most.
Emotion.
Power born from it, Kael corrected. The kind that can unmake their control.
Lyra glanced down at her hands. The faint glow beneath her skin had dimmed, but it was still there — waiting, whispering. Then they'll never stop hunting me.
No, Kael said. But they'll learn to fear you.
The words sent a shiver down her spine. And you? Do you fear me?
He looked back at her, eyes calm, unreadable. I don't know how to.
A gust of wind swept across the Vale, carrying the ashes of the fallen Echoes. They rose briefly, swirling like ghosts before fading into the pale dawn.
Lyra stared at the horizon. What happens now?
Kael hesitated. We go east. There's someone in the ruins of Merinth who might help us. A name that used to mean safety before the Council twisted it — the Archivist.
The Archivist? she repeated. Sounds friendly.
He's not, Kael said. But he owes me a truth.
They began walking. The ground was uneven, pitted with fractures that glowed faintly with aether. Lyra stumbled once, catching herself on Kael's arm. His skin felt cold — colder than before.
You're draining yourself, she said quietly.
It's what happens when I use what's left of my core, he replied. The light keeps me functional.
And if it goes out?
He didn't answer.
Lyra frowned. Kael—
I told you not to worry about me.
Too late for that, she said softly.
Something flickered in his expression — brief, fleeting, but real. He looked away quickly. You shouldn't.
Maybe not. But I do.
The silence that followed was long, filled only by the sound of their boots crunching over ash. Ahead, the Vale stretched endlessly — empty, scorched, and strangely beautiful under the rising sun.
Lyra broke the quiet. Back there, when the Echo said your name… it called you defective. What did it mean?
Kael's voice was low. It means I failed to obey. The others still serve. I don't.
Because you remembered?
Because I felt something I wasn't supposed to.
Lyra stopped walking. Who?
Kael met her eyes, his voice barely above a whisper. Her name was Elara. My bond.
Lyra's chest tightened. Was she—
She died because I hesitated, he said flatly. I was programmed to protect her, and instead I… watched.
Lyra stepped closer, her tone gentler now. You were human then.
Half, he said. Just enough to understand loss. Not enough to escape it.
They stood in silence. The sun broke through the clouds at last, turning the Vale into rivers of red and gold. Lyra reached out slowly and touched his arm.
I don't think you forgot what it means to feel, Kael, she said quietly. I think you're just afraid to.
He didn't pull away. For a long time, neither of them moved. The warmth of her touch seeped into him — faint, fleeting, but real.
Then he whispered, almost to himself, Fear… I remember that one.
Lyra smiled faintly. That's a start.
Kael looked at her then, something alive flickering behind his calm. You're going to be the end of me.
She met his gaze steadily. Or your beginning.
The wind stirred again, soft and warm this time, sweeping through the ruins and scattering the last traces of ash. For a heartbeat, Kael closed his eyes — not to shut the world out, but to feel it.
Maybe, just maybe, he still could.