Kael returned to camp before dawn.
The soldiers said nothing at first, but silence could be louder than questions. He felt it in the way they looked at him quick glances, lowered voices, unease that hadn't been there before.
One of the officers finally spoke. "We could've pushed through," he said carefully. "Nyvoria was outnumbered."
Kael removed his gloves slowly. "And lost men for nothing."
"For nothing?" the man repeated.
"For a path that leads nowhere," Kael replied. His voice was calm, but firm. "We came to scout. We did that."
The officer nodded, but doubt remained in his eyes.
Later that morning, Kael was summoned.
The tent was filled with commanders and messengers, maps spread wide across the table. A red marker showed the forest area, circled more than once.
"You encountered resistance," one of them said.
"Yes."
"And withdrew."
"Yes."
Another voice cut in, sharper. "Prince Rhaegor would not have."
Kael met the man's gaze. "Prince Rhaegor burns what he cannot control."
The tent went quiet.
"That may still win wars," the man said.
Kael said nothing. He had learned when silence spoke louder.
By the time the meeting ended, Kael understood one thing clearly—he was being measured now. Not just as a prince, but as a liability.
Across the border, Lunara faced her own reckoning.
She stood in the inner hall of Nyvoria, hands clasped behind her back, posture straight. The stone beneath her boots was cold, unforgiving.
"You allowed Aethros forces to withdraw," a council member said. "Why?"
"They were scouting," Lunara replied. "Not attacking."
"And if they return stronger?" another asked.
"They will," she said honestly. "Whether we chased them or not."
The room murmured.
A priest stepped forward, his eyes clouded. "The spirits were restless during the encounter," he said. "They warned of hesitation. Of threads crossing where they should not."
Lunara's jaw tightened. "I did my duty."
The Nyvoria king watched her for a long moment before speaking. "You did," he said. "But understand this mercy invites attention."
She bowed. "I understand."
When she left the hall, whispers followed her steps. Some respectful. Some suspicious.
That night, Lunara returned to the wall.
The wind was stronger now. The spirits were no longer quiet. She could feel them pressing against the edges of her thoughts, uneasy, warning.
She looked toward the forest.
On the other side of the same land, Kael stood alone, staring at the dark trees that had watched them both.
He did not regret turning back.
But he knew regret was not what his father feared.
It was doubt.
And doubt, once noticed, was dangerous.