The morning broke with silence.
The Vale stretched behind them — a wasteland of scorched stone and fractured light — and before them lay the long road east, winding through forests of crystal ash. The path shimmered faintly, as if remembering the echoes of old magic.
Lyra walked beside Kael, her cloak drawn tight against the chill. He hadn't spoken since dawn, his expression set in the calm mask he wore when something troubled him.
Are you going to tell me what's on your mind? she asked finally.
Kael didn't look at her. No.
Good, she muttered. I was starting to think you'd gone mute.
That earned her a faint smirk — barely there, but real enough to make her chest tighten. You talk enough for both of us, he said.
She smiled despite herself. And yet, you keep listening.
They walked in silence again for a while, the forest gradually closing around them. The trees were strange — tall, silver-barked things that hummed faintly when the wind passed through their branches. Every so often, Lyra thought she saw faint symbols carved into the trunks, glowing like fireflies.
Is this place alive? she asked softly.
Everything touched by the aether is, Kael replied. Even what's dying.
His words hung in the air, heavy with meaning. Lyra stole a glance at him. The faint blue glow beneath his skin had dimmed again — not gone, but weaker. He was fading, and he knew it.
You said the Archivist could help us, she said after a moment. Can he fix you?
Kael's expression didn't change. He can't fix what was never meant to survive.
Stop saying things like that, she snapped. You make it sound like you're planning to die.
I'm not planning it, he said. But I accept the possibility.
Well, I don't, Lyra said sharply. So you're not allowed.
That almost drew a laugh from him — almost. You don't get to decide that.
Watch me.
The path narrowed, forcing them close as the forest thickened. Lyra could feel the cold radiating off him — not unpleasant, just constant, like the air before a storm.
Kael, she said quietly, what if the Council already knows where we're going?
They do.
She blinked. You said— wait, what?
He stopped, turning to her. You're a beacon, Lyra. Your magic isn't subtle. Every time you use it, they feel it. The Archivist is our only chance to mask that signal.
Her stomach twisted. And you didn't think to mention that sooner?
I needed you calm.
Oh, great job, she said, voice rising. Now I'm calm and terrified.
Kael's eyes softened slightly. Fear keeps you alive.
Fear also makes me punch people.
His mouth twitched. Noted.
They kept walking. The forest thinned slightly, revealing the cracked remains of an old road. The stones glowed faintly underfoot, pulsing with a rhythm that almost matched Kael's — faint, mechanical, steady.
Lyra looked down. What is this place?
Old Merinth, he said. Before the fall, it was the heart of the Soulbinder program. The Council built their prototypes here — tested them, erased them.
She shivered. And now we're going back.
Fitting, isn't it?
A sound broke the quiet — faint, metallic, almost like wind chimes. Kael froze instantly. Stay behind me.
Lyra obeyed without question. From the trees ahead, a soft, rhythmic clicking echoed — too precise to be natural. Then a shape emerged: tall, cloaked, its face hidden behind a lattice of mirrored glass.
Kael's hand went to his sword. Identify yourself.
The figure tilted its head, and when it spoke, its voice was both male and female, layered and strange.
Kael Thorne. The Council sends its regards.
Lyra's heart skipped. They found us—
Quiet, Kael said. His voice was calm, but she saw the tension in his shoulders. You're a Messenger, aren't you?
The figure smiled — or at least, the reflection of one curved across its mask. Once. Now, merely a collector.
Collector of what? Lyra asked.
The mask turned toward her. Lost things. Forgotten names. Escaped experiments.
Kael stepped forward, blade drawn. You're not taking her.
The Collector tilted its head again. You misunderstand. The girl isn't what I came for.
Lyra's pulse quickened. Then what—
You, it said simply. Your core, Kael. The Council wants its property back.
Kael didn't wait for it to finish. He moved — faster than Lyra could see — his blade slicing through the air. But the Collector wasn't solid. Its form shimmered, breaking into fragments of light that swirled around him like mist.
Lyra felt the ground tremble. She raised her hands instinctively, channeling her power, but Kael's voice cut through the chaos: Don't! You'll give them your signal!
She froze, magic thrumming painfully beneath her skin. Then what do I do?
Trust me.
He struck again — this time not with his sword, but with a pulse of blue light from his palm. It flared outward, catching the fragments mid-spin. The Collector screamed, its voice distorting, glitching.
Kael staggered, his light flaring too bright for a heartbeat — then dimming sharply.
The Collector's form twisted once more, then dispersed completely, leaving only a faint trail of ash.
Lyra ran to him. Kael—!
I'm fine, he said, though his voice was strained.
You're lying again.
Habit, he muttered, almost smiling. Then his knees buckled, and she caught him before he fell.
Kael! She shook him gently, panic rising. Stay with me!
He blinked slowly, eyes unfocused. Lyra… if I lose the light—
You won't, she said fiercely. Not while I'm here.
She didn't think — she just acted. Pressing her palm against his chest, she summoned the golden fire inside her, pushing it toward him. The glow spread — her warmth mixing with his cold light, gold bleeding into blue until they pulsed together.
Kael gasped, the light in his eyes flickering back. What did you—
Something reckless, she said through clenched teeth. Now shut up and let it work.
The air between them shimmered, their energy entwining in a pulse that seemed to echo through the forest itself. For a moment, the world went silent — then the light settled, soft and steady.
Kael exhaled, staring at her in disbelief. You linked to me.
I stabilized you, she corrected. You can thank me later.
He didn't move. Lyra… you don't understand what you just did.
Her brow furrowed. What do you mean?
His voice was barely a whisper. You didn't just save me. You bound us.
Her breath caught. Bound—?
Kael met her eyes, the faint blue glow reflected in hers. Our cores are linked now. Whatever happens to one… happens to the other.
The silence that followed was electric, heavy, and terrifyingly intimate.
Lyra swallowed hard. So, if you die—
I take you with me, he said quietly.
Her pulse pounded. Well, she said after a moment, forcing a shaky smile, that's one way to keep me close.
Kael actually laughed — soft, pained, but real. You're impossible.
And you're stuck with me, she said. Literally.
He looked at her for a long moment, something dangerously human flickering in his eyes. Then we'd better make sure neither of us dies.
They stood there, surrounded by the faint shimmer of their intertwined light, the road to Merinth stretching out before them like a promise — or a warning.