The applause from the ceremony still echoed in Kael's ears long after he left the Promenade behind. The cheers had followed him through the upper district, through the crystalline walkway bridges, even through the lift that hummed softly as it carried him down toward the quieter levels of the Capital.
But now, in the narrow alleys of the Lower Arc, all that noise seemed impossibly far away.
He walked fast.
Not because he was being followed.
Because he didn't trust himself to slow down.
The relic inside his coat felt like a pulse against his ribs.
Kael Wynn.
Year 217 — Shadefall Era.
Two hundred years before he existed.
He didn't know what scared him more—that the relic was genuine… or that it wasn't.
The evening light softened as he stepped into the old market quadrant. Lanterns flickered to life overhead, glowing in warm orange strings. Vendors shouted the last of their deals, their voices drifting like tired music.
Kael kept his hood up.
The fewer people who recognized him, the better.
He couldn't face more smiles today. More gratitude. More lies.
Every time someone thanked him, something inside him pinched sharp, like a bruise pressed too hard.
You didn't save them.
He knew that.
The Council knew that.
Everyone who had been on-site during the collapse knew the same truth—
Kael Wynn had simply survived.
But survival, twisted into a story the world needed, became heroism.
He turned into a quiet side street, one lined with ivy-covered walls and tilted doors. A cooler breeze flowed through here, carrying the scent of riverwater and old metal.
Kael pressed a hand over his chest as he walked, feeling the steady drum of his heartbeat fighting against the relic's faint hum.
"What are you?" he whispered into the dusk.
The relic vibrated once, a tiny twitch of life.
Kael froze.
He pulled it out, cautiously unwrapping the cloth.
The black shard gleamed faintly. Ancient Shadefall runes curled across its surface like ivy. His reflection warped in its polished metal—his own eyes looking too dark, too tired, too lost.
He brushed the engraving again.
KAEL WYNN.
SHADEFALL ERA, 217.
He sucked in a breath.
"Did someone make this today? Carve my name on it? Or is this actually—"
He couldn't finish the sentence.
He already knew how Shadefall technology felt.
He had seen real relics.
This one wasn't forged last night.
It carried age.
Gravitas.
History.
And it was reacting to him.
Why?
A sudden burst of laughter echoed from the main road, startling him. Kael shoved the relic back inside his coat and stepped deeper into the alley.
The sun dipped lower, turning the sky into a wash of orange and pale violet. Workers walked home with tired shoulders. Kids played along the stone gutters, their laughter chasing shadows.
This was the part of the city Kael liked—the normal part. The parts that hadn't put him on a pedestal.
He reached a familiar small courtyard tucked behind an old bakery. A fountain trickled softly at its center, shaped like a cluster of sunflowers holding shallow bowls of water.
Kael sat on the fountain's edge and let himself breathe fully for the first time that day.
The water reflected a warped version of his face.
It didn't look like a hero.
Just a boy who tried too hard to seem fine.
He ran a hand through his hair and muttered, "You're a fraud."
The word hit harder than he expected.
Fraud.
Fraud.
Fraud.
He closed his eyes.
Why me? Why not one of the real responders? Why not the engineer who saved the power grid? Why not the medic who pulled me out of the rubble?
Why had he been chosen for the lie?
Why did people believe it so easily?
A voice echoed in his memory:
"History is not what happens. It's what we choose to remember."
Coradan's thin smile flickered through Kael's mind.
Kael exhaled sharply and splashed water on his face.
He needed to calm down, think straight, figure out what to do with the relic—
A soft metallic chime cut through the quiet courtyard.
Kael straightened.
That wasn't a normal city sound.
Another chime.
Higher pitch.
Almost… searching.
He stood slowly, turning toward the alley entrance.
The air had shifted.
Charged.
Like the atmosphere before a lightning strike.
Then—
clatter.
A small pebble rolled across the stone path.
Kael's hand drifted instinctively toward the dagger hidden beneath his coat—an old habit from the days before anyone thought of him as a hero.
He waited.
The alley remained empty.
His pulse eased.
Then—
"Kael!"
A hand clasped his shoulder.
Kael flinched hard, spinning around as his dagger flashed into his grip.
Samira raised both hands, eyebrows lifting.
"Easy, boy."
Kael let out a long, shaky breath and lowered the blade. "General? What are you doing here?"
Samira looked him over, scanning his expression.
"You vanished after the ceremony," she said. Her tone was stern, but her eyes softened. "Coradan sent runners everywhere. Thought you fainted or had some… episode."
"I'm fine." Too fast. Too defensive.
Her brow arched. "Are you?"
Kael hesitated.
He could lie.
Tell her he just needed air.
Tell her nothing was wrong.
But Samira wasn't like the other officials. She didn't treat him like a symbol. She treated him like someone who could break.
Kael took a slow breath.
"There was… something delivered to me today," he said quietly. "A Shadefall relic."
Samira's eyes sharpened instantly.
"Show me."
Kael pulled it out again, unwrapping the cloth.
Samira's jaw tightened.
"That's ancient. Where did you say this came from?"
"Courier. No sender."
Samira turned the relic over in her hands, the runes faintly reflecting in her armor.
Then she saw the engraving.
Her hand clenched.
"Kael…" she said slowly. "This date… this isn't possible."
"I know," he whispered.
Samira looked up at him—and her commander's mask cracked for the first time.
"Listen to me. You say nothing about this to anyone else. Not the Council. Not the public. Not even your aunt. Understand?"
Kael's throat tightened. "Why?"
"Because if this is real," Samira said quietly, "it means someone knew your name before your family ever existed."
Kael swallowed.
The relic hummed again.
Soft, but deliberate.
Samira stepped back like she'd been burned.
"…And it recognizes you."
Kael stared at the metal.
At the runes glowing like faint breaths.
At the name carved centuries before he was born.
A hollow fear crawled up his spine.
"What does it mean?" he whispered.
Samira shook her head slowly.
"I don't know."
She handed it back carefully.
"But whoever sent it…"
Her gaze turned cold, alert.
"…they knew exactly what they were doing."
Kael wrapped the relic and tucked it close to his chest.
He felt the weight of it.
The impossibility.
The danger.
Samira glanced around the courtyard, then spoke in a low voice:
"Kael… whatever this is leading to—do not follow it alone."
Kael nodded.
But deep inside, he already knew:
He would follow it.
He couldn't ignore it.
Because the moment he touched that relic—
Something beneath the earth had opened its eyes.
And he felt them watching.