The door of the inn creaked open, and in walked a figure that immediately drew the attention of everyone in the room. He was taller than most of the patrons, slightly surpassing Thal in height, though his posture was more relaxed, almost carefree. He had spiky black hair, and his beard was trimmed short, no moustache to speak of. His eyes, however, gleamed with a certain sharpness, a contrast to his laid back demeanour. His staff, thick and unadorned, was more for hitting than magic, and he swung it casually at his side as he strode in.
"Thal, my old friend!" the Nephilim called out loudly, a grin spreading across his face. He moved with an air of confidence, one that came with age and experience. His voice was loud and boisterous, yet there was an undeniable charm to his presence. "I never thought I'd see you here of all places!"
Thal stiffened slightly as the voice cut through the chatter of the inn. He turned to face the newcomer, his expression hardening for a moment, before softening with recognition. His gaze flicked to the spiky haired Nephilim, and for a moment, a shadow of something old and familiar passed through his eyes.
Kael, the Nephilim who had once been part of Thal's younger years, approached the table with the swagger of someone who had no concept of personal space. His grin didn't falter as he plopped down in the chair next to Thal, crossing his legs casually, ignoring the space that the others had carved for themselves around the table. He glanced at Luken, Nyra, and Valen before focusing back on Thal.
"Been a long time, huh?" Kael said, a teasing lilt in his voice. "By the Hells, look at you, Thal. You've gotten all serious and brooding now. Where's the whelp I used to know, eh? The one who'd drink an ale cask dry and sing badly at the moon?" He leaned back in his chair and chuckled, as if he was watching a show.
Thal's posture stiffened slightly but he didn't say anything. Instead, he just kept his gaze locked on Kael, his eyes unknowing.
Kael's grin widened as he noticed Thal's silence, and he leaned forward, lowering his voice with an exaggerated seriousness. "I was actually in the area by coincidence but this... this is a jest of the divine," he continued, clearly enjoying himself. "I mean, you've been playing the lone wolf for so many decades, I thought maybe I'd finally find you doing something remotely mortal. Instead I find you playing nursemaid? Fortune favors the ironic, it seems."
At this, Thal's eyes narrowed slightly. He leaned forward, his tone measured but low, "What do you want, Kael?"
"Oh, come on. No need to be all grave. I'm just here to chat. Besides, I've got a little... something I'm tending to." Kael waved his hand dismissively. "But I don't want to talk about duties. You remember Alinda, don't you?"
Thal's gaze flickered, and for a split second, a shadow crossed his face. The name lingered between them like a wound that hadn't fully closed.
Kael chuckled quietly, tapping his fingers against the table. "Saw her not too long ago, you know. She's still stubborn as ever... still worries about you." He shrugged, though his eyes were watching Thal closely now. "She asked if you were still breathing. Told her you were too damn stubborn to die." He grinned but softer now, almost respectful.
Thal's fist clenched involuntarily, though his face remained a stoic mask. "Not here, Kael," he muttered, cutting off any further discussion about Alinda or his past ties. He didn't want to go down that road not here, not now.
But Kael, ever the instigator, didn't take the hint. "Well, whatever the reason, you're not that much of a recluse anymore, huh? You've got a whole new crew now," he said, casting a sweeping glance at Nyra, Valen, and Tar. "Who's the new ones?"
Then he saw Luken. "Another Kruul kid?"
Luken's heart seized. He kept his expression carefully neutral, though his fingers twitched toward his sternum where his Node pulsed—his illusion was still active, the horns masked, the golden eye hidden behind the guise of humanity. Yet Kael's gaze lingered longer on him than the others. His sharp eyes narrowed ever so slightly, and for a moment, the playful glint in his expression dulled.
Something behind those eyes shifted. Luken felt it instantly. It was not just a glance. It was a recognition that bypassed the magic entirely, seeing the blood beneath the mask. A chill crept up his spine, and he instinctively straightened in his seat, his hands curling into fists under the table. Kael's stare wasn't casual—it was the kind that made you feel seen in ways you didn't understand and didn't want to.
He knows, Luken thought, panic fluttering in his throat. Without trying, without effort—he just sees.
Kael chuckled lightly, masking the moment as if nothing had passed, but the way his fingers drummed on the wood afterward was slower, more deliberate. He had seen something, and Luken knew it.
"Oh, and speaking of which, whatever happened to those three Kruul whelps you were traveling with when we were younger? I thought for sure they'd still be sniffing about your heels."
The mention of the Kruul children made Thal stiffen even further. His hand curled into a fist, and he looked at Kael, his gaze colder than it had been all evening. "Don't bring them up," Thal growled lowly, his voice a warning. His tone left no room for debate, and Kael, sensing the shift, paused, his grin faltering for the briefest of moments.
Kael leaned back in his chair, tapping his fingers on the wooden table. "Alright, alright. No need to bare fangs," he said, his playful mood turning more contemplative. "But you know, Thal... you're different now. All that time in the Haunt changed you. You can pretend like it didn't but it did and maybe it's time you let yourself acknowledge that, hm?"
Thal said nothing, his eyes narrowing as he looked over Kael, studying the Nephilim in front of him. He could tell that Kael's words weren't just meant to provoke there was something deeper there something about the weight of their shared history but he wasn't ready to talk about that, not now, not in front of the others.
Kael sighed, standing up from the table, his chair scraping loudly against the stone floor. "Well, I've got to go see to a few things. You know how it is... duties but hey, if you need anything you know where to find me. I'll be around Kel for a bit," he added casually, giving Thal a slap on the back as he walked off. "Try not to brood too much, alright? You're not dead yet. Not yet."
Thal didn't respond, watching Kael leave with a quiet intensity. As soon as the Nephilim was out of earshot, he let out a slow, controlled breath. The room seemed a bit smaller, a little too close, and Thal knew that Kael's appearance was just the first of many reminders of a past that refused to stay buried.
The others exchanged looks, sensing the tension but no one spoke. They didn't need to. The weight of it was in the air.
Thal's gaze remained fixed on the door where Kael had just exited, his thoughts momentarily drifting to that shared history. He didn't need to speak of it everyone in the room could feel the shift.
Thal stood up from the table and gave a short nod to the group. "I'm going to walk around for a bit," he said, his voice low, almost reflective. The others exchanged glances, sensing that Thal was trying to shake off whatever tension lingered after Kael's departure.
Thal pushed the door open and stepped out into the cool night air, letting it wash over him as he walked out of the inn. The sound of the bustling city behind him faded, and the quiet weight of the darkened streets seemed to pull at his thoughts. He wasn't really planning to go anywhere in particular, just somewhere that felt like it could give him a moment of peace.
Nyra glanced at the door where Thal had disappeared, then back to the others. "We're splitting up."
Valen straightened. "To find Kael?"
"To find Thal," she corrected, adjusting her axe. "Before Kael does whatever he's actually here to do."
Luken frowned. "Thal doesn't want to be found. You heard him—"
"I heard him leave," Nyra interrupted. "I've seen that look before. When my father used to retreat to the training yards after... after bad memories." She looked at each of them. "He's not brooding. He's bleeding. And Kael's picking at the scab."
Valen crossed his arms. "So we what? Comfort him? Force him to talk?"
"We make sure he's not alone when the past catches up," Nyra said. She was already moving toward the door. "Valen, check the industrial district—he's drawn to noise when he's troubled. Luken, the residential wards. I'll take the square."
"And if he tells us to back off?" Luken asked.
Nyra paused at the threshold, hand on the frame. "Then we back off. But at least we'll know he's still in one piece."
They all agreed. Valen turned down a street that sloped toward the sound of distant hammers, while Luken vanished between the close-set houses of the residential quarter. Nyra went her own way, leaving Tar to watch the inn.
The industrial din grew louder with each step Valen took—hammers striking metal, the hiss of steam, the rhythmic clanging of machinery. He emerged into a district unlike anything he had ever seen. Massive forges glowed with molten heat, illuminating sprawling workshops and towering cranes that moved materials across the bustling area. The acrid tang of metal and oil filled the air, and Valen marvelled at the sheer scale of industry before him.
Rows of workers—Dwarves, Orcs, Kruul's, and even humans—moved with practiced precision, hauling materials, welding pieces together, and crafting what appeared to be weapons, armor, and complex devices. Sparks flew in every direction as smiths pounded glowing metal into shape, their faces illuminated by the intense orange light of their forges. Intricate runes were being carved into some of the weapons by deft hands, their glow pulsing faintly with contained energy.
Valen's eyes widened as he took it all in. "Incredible..." he muttered to himself, walking slowly through the organized chaos.
He passed a massive contraption resembling a ballista, though it was far more advanced than the siege engines at Lions Gate. Its sleek design was adorned with glowing runes, and its limbs were made of some kind of metal he didn't recognize. Nearby, a group of workers was assembling a set of armor that appeared to shift and move as if alive, responding to the faintest touch.
"This is beyond anything we have back home," he whispered, his voice tinged with awe. The human cities, for all their pride in craftsmanship, seemed primitive in comparison. Even the royal blacksmiths in his father's court couldn't dream of creating anything like this.
As he wandered deeper into the district, Valen's curiosity grew. He couldn't help but wonder how this eclectic mix of races had managed to achieve such technological progress. In human cities, prejudice and mistrust often hindered collaboration between even their own classes, let alone between entirely different species. However here, the unity of effort was undeniable. It was as if everyone in the district shared a common goal—a vision of progress that transcended their differences.
"Hey, you lost, human?" a gruff voice called out, pulling Valen from his thoughts.
He turned to see an Ork with broad shoulders and tusks jutting from his lower jaw, wiping his hands on a grease stained cloth. His piercing yellow eyes studied Valen with curiosity rather than hostility.
"Not lost, just... exploring," Valen replied, a bit sheepishly. "This place is amazing. I've never seen anything like it."
The Ork grunted, crossing his arms. "Yeah, most humans haven't. You lot prefer castles and cathedrals, not innovation."
Valen flinched at the jab but quickly recovered. "That's not entirely true. We have... progress. Just maybe not like this."
The Ork snorted. "Progress? Sure, if you call squabbling over titles and land progress. Here, we build for survival and growth. Big difference."
Valen couldn't argue with that. He looked around again, his admiration only growing. "How did this all come to be? This collaboration between races? I didn't think Kruul's, Dwarves and Orcs worked alongside humans like this."
The Ork raised a brow. "You're new here, aren't you?"
Valen nodded.
"Kel's different," the Ork said simply. "Out there, we might fight and squabble but in here, we're all the same, survivors. The city's been a refuge for centuries. If you don't pull your weight, you don't stay, no matter who or what you are."
Valen absorbed the words, a mixture of admiration and envy stirring within him. What would it take for the human kingdoms to adopt such a mindset? Could they ever achieve this level of unity?
"Is there... anyone I can talk to about this?" he asked. "Someone who oversees it all?"
The Ork shrugged. "Depends on what you're looking for. If you want to see more, head to the Foundry Hall. Big building near the centre of this district. They won't let you mess with anything but you'll get a sense of how things work around here. "
"Thank you," Valen said sincerely.
The Ork grunted in acknowledgment before turning back to his work.
Valen left the district with a small gear clutched in his pocket, his mind racing with thoughts of what he'd seen. The weapons, the machinery, the cooperation—it all spoke of a society that had overcome barriers his own people still struggled with. He wondered if the others were seeing the same things he was. Perhaps, just perhaps, there was something to be learned here that could change more than just their journey—it could change the world.
Meanwhile, Luken had wandered into the tightly packed suburbs of Kel, marveling at the vibrant community within the towering stacks of homes. The houses, constructed of stone, wood, and salvaged metal, were layered atop one another like an intricate puzzle. People of all races bustled about—Kruul's, Dwarfs, Orcs, humans, and even a few species Luken couldn't identify. Children ran between the narrow alleyways, their laughter echoing off the walls, while parents chatted from balconies or hung freshly washed clothes on lines that crisscrossed the streets.
Luken stopped several passersby, asking if they had seen Thal, the giant who was unmistakable in appearance. Most either shook their heads or mentioned the statue in the city square, assuming that was what he meant. He was about to give up when a human woman with a toddler on her hip paused, looking thoughtful.
"Someone like that? A giant? I think I saw him earlier," she said, shifting the child in her arms. "Near the orphanage, playing with the kids."
Luken blinked, caught off guard. "The orphanage?"
The woman nodded. "It's not far from here. Just down that road, then take the left fork. You'll hear the children before you see it."
"Thank you," Luken said, giving her a small nod before heading in the direction she pointed.
As he approached the orphanage, the sound of children's laughter grew louder. The building itself was a modest structure, larger than the surrounding homes but worn with age. The yard in front was bustling with activity as children of various races ran about, playing games—and there, in the middle of it all, was Thal.
The giant sat cross legged on the ground, his immense size making the children around him look like dolls in comparison. Despite his intimidating stature, he had a gentle expression as he played along with their games, letting a small Ork child climb onto his shoulders while another human child tugged at his arm, giggling.
Luken stood frozen for a moment, observing the scene. It was such a stark contrast to the stoic, battle hardened Thal he had come to know. Here, he looked... peaceful. Happy, even.
Gathering his thoughts, Luken approached cautiously. "Thal? What are you doing here?"
Thal turned his head, his calm demeanour shifting slightly at the interruption. He gently lifted the Ork child off his shoulders and set him down before rising to his full height, towering over everyone present.
"Just... spending time," Thal said, his tone neutral as he brushed dust from his hands. Though Luken noticed the faint flicker of emotion in his eyes.
"With the children?" Luken pressed, his curiosity piqued.
Thal hesitated for a moment, glancing at the children who had now gathered around his legs, looking up at him with wide eyes. One of them—a Kruul boy with a mischievous grin—tugged on Thal's pant leg. "You're coming back tomorrow, right?" the boy asked.
Thal nodded, giving the child a small smile. "We'll see."
As the children scattered to resume their games, Luken stepped closer, lowering his voice. "Why are you here, really?"
Thal's expression hardened, his usual stoicism returning. "It's nothing. I just... know what it's like to be lost."
"Lost?" Luken repeated, frowning. "What do you mean?"
Thal sighed, running a hand through his hair. "When I was younger, I found two Kruul children wandering alone. Neo and his older sister, Quincy. They had no one. I... took them in…"
Luken blinked in surprise. "Neo had a sister?"
Thal's jaw tightened, and he avoided Luken's gaze. "Yes," he said curtly, as though regretting the slip of the tongue. "But that's not important now."
Luken opened his mouth to ask more but Thal's sharp gaze stopped him. It was clear Thal didn't want to discuss the matter further.
Before Luken could press him, one of the children called out, "Tal! Are you leaving already?"
Thal glanced back at the children, his expression softening again. "Yes, I have to go now. Be good."
The children groaned in disappointment but waved him off as he turned to leave. Luken followed, his mind racing with questions. He hadn't expected to find Thal here, let alone hear such a personal story. It was a side of the giant he hadn't seen before, and it left him both intrigued and unsettled.
As they walked away from the orphanage, Luken finally broke the silence. "You're full of surprises, Thal."
Thal didn't respond immediately, his gaze fixed straight ahead. When he finally spoke, his voice was low. "We all have parts of ourselves we don't share, Luken. Remember that."
With that, he quickened his pace, leaving Luken to ponder the weight of his words.
As Thal's words settled in, they struck Luken deeper than he expected. The weight of his own secret pressed heavily on his chest—the truth about being a half Kruul, a truth he had desperately concealed, even from those he travelled with. Yet, during the Hydra fight, when he had been forced to use his Kruul magic to break free from the illusion, he had revealed it to Thal—and yet… Thal had never brought it up. Not once.
It gnawed at Luken. As they walked in silence through the twisting streets of Kel, his curiosity bubbled over, and he finally broke the stillness.
"Thal," Luken started, his voice hesitant. "Back in the Hydra's cave… when I... when you saw what I am. Why haven't you said anything about it? You haven't asked, not even once."
Thal glanced down at him but kept walking, his strides unhurried. He was quiet for a long moment, as though carefully weighing his words. Finally, he spoke, his tone calm and steady.
"Well," Thal said simply, "I like to keep things to myself, too. "
Luken stopped in his tracks, staring at the giant's back. Thal took a few more steps before noticing and paused, turning slightly to look at him. His face bore no judgment, no curiosity—just the same steady calm that Luken had come to associate with him.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Luken asked, his voice a mix of frustration and confusion.
Thal sighed, his broad shoulders shifting slightly as he turned fully to face him. "It means I understand what it's like to have things you don't want to share. Things you're not ready to explain or face yet. You showed me what you are because you had to, not because you wanted to. That's enough for me."
Luken blinked, thrown off balance by the simplicity of Thal's response. He had expected questions, maybe even accusations—but instead, there was… understanding. Acceptance.
"But… don't you want to know?" Luken pressed, his voice quieter now. "Aren't you curious?"
Thal crossed his arms, his expression softening just slightly. "If you want to tell me, you will. When you're ready. I don't need to pry, Luken. I've carried my share of secrets long enough to know when someone's not ready to share theirs."
Luken stared at him, a mix of emotions swirling inside him. Relief. Gratitude—and a strange sense of guilt. He wasn't sure what he had expected from Thal—but it certainly wasn't this level of understanding.
Thal turned to walk again but before he did, he placed a massive hand on Luken's shoulder. "Whatever you are, it doesn't change the fact that you fought beside me. That's what matters."
With that, Thal walked on, leaving Luken standing there, a knot of emotions tightening in his chest. For the first time in a long while, he felt the weight of his secret ease, if only slightly. Thal had seen what he was and hadn't cared.
"Keep things to yourself, huh?" Luken muttered to himself with a small, wry smile. "Maybe you're not so hard to figure out after all, big guy."
With that, he hurried to catch up, his steps lighter than they had been in days.
They walked back together in silence until they reached the inn. Tar stood at the front, a massive shadow against the wall, watching the street with patient eyes. He gave a slight nod as they approached, stepping aside to let them pass.
Thal pushed open the heavy door, ducking to clear the frame, and went immediately to his usual corner, settling in with the patience of stone. Luken followed him inside, finding Valen already there, sitting near the hearth, turning the small gear over in his fingers. He looked up as they entered, his expression questioning.
"Find him?" Valen asked.
Luken nodded. "He's been at the orphanage. Playing with children." He glanced at Thal, but the giant had already retreated into stillness, his golden eyes reflecting the firelight.
Valen raised an eyebrow, but before he could ask more, Luken shook his head—not now.
They waited. The fire crackled. The dome of Kel hummed overhead. But Nyra had not yet returned.
She had been walking for nearly an hour, her boots tracing patterns across the cobblestones that she didn't remember laying. The shimmering dome above gave the whole scene a dreamlike quality, making everything feel distant and surreal. False snow drifted down through the air, dry and weightless, catching in her silver hair and melting against her tan skin.
Nyra moved through the city like a ghost, passing through districts that seemed to shift in scale—first narrow alleys where Kruul children chased each other between laundry lines, then broad avenues where Dwarven merchants argued over the price of copper wire. She wasn't looking for landmarks. She was looking for a feeling. The particular heaviness that Thal carried when he was retreating into himself, the way his shoulders curved slightly inward as if to protect his chest from phantom blows.
The square opened before her unexpectedly, a wide space of polished stone surrounded by buildings that seemed to lean away from the center, as if bowing to what stood there. Lanterns flickered on iron posts, casting amber pools of light that fought against the dome's pale luminescence.
And there, at the heart of the square, stood the statue—the same black granite figure she had seen that afternoon, now half-swallowed by shadow. The Thal the Inexorable inscription was lost to darkness, but she remembered the date etched into the base: 989 A.S. The year the sky bled. The year he became inexorable.
From behind, in the dim light, the silhouette was perfect. The breadth of the shoulders, the angle of the head. For a heartbeat, she was certain she had found him—that he had come here to sit with himself, as Kael suggested, to be closer to the man he used to be.
Her heart skipped. She took three quick steps forward, her hand lifting to call out—
The figure turned.
And her heart sank.
"Kael," she muttered under her breath.
The Nephilim grinned when he saw her, leaning casually on his staff. "Well, well. If it isn't Thal's little band of misfits," he said, his voice echoing with mirth. "Lost already?"
Nyra's eyes narrowed. "I thought you were him."
Kael chuckled, his laugh carrying through the square. "I get that a fair bit. I mean, we are both of the old blood, though I'd argue I'm the more handsome one by far." He paused, tilting his head. "Looking for our brooding oak tree, are you?"
Nyra crossed her arms. "Yeah. Have you seen him?"
Kael tilted his head, studying her with a curious glint in his eyes. "Not recently, no—but knowing him, he's probably sulking somewhere quiet. That's his style, isn't it?" He gestured vaguely at the statue behind him. "You know, he's probably closer to this thing than you think."
Nyra glanced at the statue. It depicted a Nephilim, tall and imposing, with features eerily similar to Thal's. She frowned, unsure what Kael meant.
"Thal's a creature of habit," Kael continued, his tone lighter but his eyes sharp. "He's got this way of seeking out things that remind him of... well, himself. Old memories, lost connections. Places where he can pretend he's still the man in the stone instead of the ghost walking around it."
Nyra clenched her fists. "Why do you care where he sulks?"
Kael's smirk softened. He stepped around her, close enough that she smelled pine and old copper, and leaned against the statue's pedestal. The playful mask dropped slightly, revealing something tired underneath.
"I was thinking about those three Kruul whelps he used to trail around with," Kael said, his voice quieter now. "Years ago. There was the little one—the white-haired whelp with the violet eyes, tail like a whip. Stared me down like I was the appetizer. Knee-high and completely unafraid." A genuine smile crossed his face, softening the sharp edges. "Is he...?"
"Neo?" Nyra's voice softened unconsciously, her grip on her axe loosening. "He's alive. Safe back at Snowdrift. Keeping the cabin warm."
Kael let out a breath, the tension leaving his shoulders. His grin returned, warm and relieved. "Good. That runt had spine. Most children that size take one look at me and hide behind their mothers. He walked right up and asked if my staff was for hitting or for show." He chuckled, remembering. "Unafraid of anything. Good he's still... good."
He studied her again, and his expression shifted—becoming playful, perceptive. "You lit up like a lantern when you said his name. You and the little one—are you...?" He waggled his eyebrows suggestively.
Nyra felt heat rush to her face. "No! No way. We're just... we grew up together. That's all."
"Right," Kael drawled, his grin widening. "Just childhood friends. That's why you're blushing like a maiden at a solstice dance. The 'no way' was very convincing, by the way. Almost believed it."
Nyra's hand tightened on her axe, her face burning. "It's not like that. I'm just... he's important. As a friend."
"Mm-hmm." Kael held up his hands in surrender, though his eyes glinted with amusement. "I'll let you have that one. But for the record, I've been alive long enough to know when someone's lying to themselves. You keep telling yourself 'no way,' little warrior. See how long that lasts."
He leaned back against the statue, his tone shifting back to something more serious. "But speaking of attachments—Thal's got his own brand of trouble there. He collects broken things, Nyra. Not to fix them—to hold them. He had three of them once: your little friend and two others. One burned too bright for this world to let live... the other broke in the dark. Lost them both. I had to put Thal back together with twine and prayers after that."
He leaned in, voice dropping. "Now he's found you. And he's already decided you're worth the same price. He gets attached too easily. Loves completely, without asking if you're ready to be loved that way. When you fall—and you will—he'll wonder why he's still breathing. He'll lie down next to your grave and try to find the next one to save."
He stepped back, the hollow returning to his eyes. "I don't want to watch him break again, Nyra. And I don't want to watch him break you."
He turned to leave.
"Ask him about the two he lost," Kael called over his shoulder. "Ask him why he plays with orphans in the lower district. Why he keeps building families out of strangers who look at him like he hung the moon. See if he tells you about the ones he buried. That'll tell you whether he's seeing you... or just trying to keep his little friend's girl alive long enough to make it home."
He paused at the edge of the square, glancing back once more with a knowing smirk. "And give Neo my regards. Tell him Kael still has his answer about the staff."
He vanished into the crowd before she could respond, leaving her standing in the square with a burning face, a name she didn't know, and a weight she couldn't yet understand pressing down on her shoulders—a mystery that wouldn't unravel until she found Thal at the orphanage, playing with children and speaking of sisters lost.
When Nyra finally returned to the inn, Tar was still at his post by the door, his bulk blocking the wind. He rumbled softly as she approached—a sound of acknowledgment, perhaps of concern—and stepped aside to let her enter.
The common room had settled into a subdued quiet. Valen sat near the hearth, turning an intricate metal gear over in his fingers, while Luken stared into the fire, looking lighter than when they'd left. Thal sat in the corner, massive and still as furniture, his golden eyes reflecting the embers. He didn't look up as she entered, but she felt the weight of his attention nonetheless.
"Find him?" Valen asked.
Nyra shook her head, not trusting her voice. She climbed the stairs to her room, leaving the others behind.
In the darkness of her small chamber, she sat on the edge of the bed, her axe propped against the wall within arm's reach—old habits. Outside, the dome of Kel shimmered, casting false snow against her window. Somewhere in the city, children slept in beds that weren't theirs, looked after by a giant who couldn't save the ones he'd loved before. And Nyra lay awake, carrying the weight of a mystery she didn't yet understand, afraid to find out if she was just the next one in line.
But Kael's parting words echoed in the dark, refusing to let her sleep: Make sure you know what you are to him. Because he already knows what he is to you.