The sun had already reached the lower district of the bronze walls when Kael and Brianna were gathered in a simple inn room, with worn furniture and a table marked by time.
Through the narrow window came the light from the street, mixed with the smell of dust and old wine, while the two mapped out their next move — later than they should.
Brianna broke the silence first, her voice low, but firm.
"Today is the thirtieth day of the eighth month. If the calculations are correct… they must have already reached the marquisate."
Kael did not answer immediately.
His fingers rested on the scarred wood of the table, feeling its imperfections as if reading something that wasn't visible.
"Then there is nothing left to wait for."
His head tilted slightly.
"This is the moment to enter the castle… and uncover what the count is hiding."
Brianna held his gaze for a moment, weighing more than the words.
"Entering won't be the problem," she said, adjusting her hood with a contained motion. "Getting out… might be another story."
Kael allowed a brief silence.
"Stories are always written afterward."
He stood, taking his cloak calmly, as if the gesture had already been decided long before that moment.
"For now… it's enough that we enter."
Brianna did not hesitate.
"Then let's go."
Kael did not use the door.
The window yielded without a sound, and in the next instant he was already on the roof.
Brianna followed immediately, matching his pace without hesitation.
They descended along the opposite side.
Shadows.
Narrow alleys.
No light that lasted.
"Trust me," he said, low.
Brianna cast a brief glance around before answering:
"I do. I just hope you know where you're taking us."
Kael did not look back.
"I know enough."
The path was not direct.
It never was.
When the walls appeared, they were already too close to turn back.
The cold metal reflected the distant torchlight.
Kael moved on without slowing.
Climbed. Guided. Passed.
As if that place still remembered him.
On the other side, there were no guards.
Only silence.
And a passage that should no longer exist.
The door was barely visible beneath the vines.
Kael opened it carefully.
"An old exit," he said. "Built for when the house needed to flee from itself."
Brianna frowned slightly.
"And you know this kind of path by chance?"
"There is no chance in a place like this."
He stepped in.
She followed.
The tunnel enveloped them.
Cold. Damp. Ancient.
"There's something wrong," Brianna murmured, her voice lower now. "Too much silence… even for a place like this."
Kael took a few more steps before answering:
"Or enough silence."
She didn't insist.
When they emerged—
the air changed.
Closed.
Heavy.
Almost… still.
Kael stopped.
"There are no guards."
Brianna looked around, tense.
"Or there's no need for them."
A moment.
Then—
Kael turned his head slightly.
"We're not alone."
The voice came weak.
Small.
"Who… is there?"
Brianna reacted in the same instant.
"Phasmatos… lumen ostende."
Flames rose in the room.
They didn't burn.
They were unstable forms, like presences waiting — alive enough to watch, still enough not to belong to the world.
The fire ran along the walls, revealing what had remained hidden, casting shadows that followed no known shape.
Brianna did not move.
Her gaze fixed.
As if looking away would deny what stood before her.
Kael felt the ground… give.
And there was no hesitation.
"This is what remains of a man who confuses beauty with possession," he said, his voice low, empty of any emotion. "He does not preserve. He interrupts."
A step forward.
The ground beneath his feet responded — uneven, as if something were there… without truly being.
He tilted his head slightly.
Listening to what had no sound.
"Children… reduced to silence."
"Kept… as if they still belonged to someone."
A short pause.
"Everything… so that nothing changes."
His voice did not shift.
"And still… he calls this love."
Kael raised his hand to the blindfold, his fingers pressing the fabric for an instant too brief.
As if confirming.
A smile emerged — contained, but carrying something deeper.
It was not satisfaction.
It was recognition.
Something too old to be a surprise.
"Kael—"
Brianna's call did not reach its end.
A sound cut through the space.
Light.
Irregular.
Breathing.
Her eyes moved first.
Then her body.
In the corner of the room, partially covered by the unmoving form of one of the statues, there was someone.
Too small to be there.
The boy was curled against the stone, as if trying to disappear into it.
His pale skin was marked by thin fissures, luminous, too delicate for what they meant, like a sky broken into lines.
Dark hair fell unevenly over his face, and his eyes — one blue, the other golden — stared at them full of something that did not quite reach hope.
He tried to speak — and failed on the first attempt.
No voice came out.
Only air.
On the second—
"Wh… who are you?"
The sound barely held.
The voice almost didn't come.
Kael approached without haste and stopped before him, kneeling with a simple motion, without hesitation.
His hand rested lightly on his own knee, his face angled toward the irregular breathing in front of him.
A pause.
Short.
"There is no reason to be afraid."
His voice came out low.
"If you are still here… it is because you were chosen."
Silence formed for a moment.
"Preserved."
Another pause.
Lighter.
"One of the things he says he loves."
A brief pause.
"I know this kind of choice well."
The boy shrank further against the stone, his breathing faltering between words.
"Y-you shouldn't be here… if the count finds out… I'll be punished…"
Kael fell silent for a moment.
The word did not echo.
It sank.
"Punished…"
The repetition came low.
Almost absent.
"There is something you should understand."
The pause was not long — but it was enough.
As if that word were not for the boy…
but for something older.
And then—
the air changed.
The small room smelled of mold and accumulated filth.
The damp walls held the weak light of a candle about to die.
The cage took up almost all the space.
The bread fell to the ground.
The boy did not hesitate.
He picked it up.
Ate.
Too fast.
"Eat. It's what there is."
The woman's voice came from the door.
Distant.
As if it did not belong to the same space.
"I don't know why I still feed this thing…"
Silence.
"I should have killed you when I had the chance."
The boy did not answer.
He kept eating anyway.
"Why don't you die like him?"
The bottle came next.
It shattered against the bars.
The shards pierced through.
Cut.
He did not scream.
He stopped for a moment.
Then continued.
"Stop looking at me!"
Knocking on the door.
"Cover his eyes."
The order came fast.
The cloth was pressed against the boy's face, and darkness fell before he could react.
For hours, muffled sounds echoed through the small room, indistinct, dragged, as if they did not belong to the same world as him.
The boy remained still.
Waiting.
As always.
When silence finally returned, as usual, he removed the blindfold.
But this time, it was not only emptiness.
The man was still there.
Standing.
Staring at him.
The boy's body stiffened.
Fear did not come as a scream.
It came as absence of movement.
The man turned and left.
But something had changed.
And the silence of the cage… weighed more than ever.
The air returned.
Heavy.
Still.
Kael did not move.
"That man… was a servant of the count," he said, his voice low, steady. "After that day, he went to my mother… and bought me."
A pause.
Short.
"For the first time… I thought I had been chosen for something better."
His face remained turned toward the boy.
"Some choices… only change the shape of what holds us."
Silence settled before he continued.
"Do you understand what I mean?"
The question did not demand an immediate answer.
"Some places… do not need chains."
Another pause.
Lighter.
"The loyalty he demands… always leads to the same end."
His voice did not rise.
But it gained weight.
"When he grows tired of you… this is where you will return."
A moment.
"Not as you are now.
But as one of the things he decided to preserve."
The silence that followed was longer.
Denser.
"But that hasn't happened yet."
His voice softened.
Without losing firmness.
"You can still choose."
A pause.
"You can leave this place… as someone who lives.
Or remain… until you are no longer necessary."
Silence held for a moment.
The boy did not look away.
As if searching for something he had seen before.
"Y-you… are you Sirius?" his voice faltered at the start, almost fading. "the bright star… that fled…"
Kael remained still for a brief moment.
Then a faint smile appeared.
Small.
Without pride.
"That name stayed behind."
A short pause.
"Now… they call me Kael."
The boy swallowed dryly, his fingers tightening against his own clothes.
"If… if I tell… will you kill him?"
The silence that followed was not empty.
It was choice.
Brianna stepped closer then, stopping beside Kael.
Her hand rested on his shoulder with quiet firmness, not to restrain him — but to steady what was already decided.
When she spoke, her voice did not tremble.
"We will.
And all you need to do… is tell the truth."
The boy hesitated.
His gaze moved from one to the other, as if still searching for something he could not name.
His breath failed once.
Then—
"I… I'll tell."
The silence did not break.
It only yielded—
The sun was already lighting what remained of the marquisate.
Light fell over charred remains, cut through open walls, and spilled over bodies left where they had fallen, without order, without care.
As if even death had been interrupted before it could finish.
Éreon moved forward.
His steps were firm, constant, shifting ash and dust without haste, while the metallic smell of blood still lingered in the air, heavy enough not to be ignored.
There were no voices.
There was no movement.
The destruction did not lessen as he advanced.
From the outer walls to the center of the territory, everything remained the same — houses reduced to rubble, streets marked by dragging, walls scored with deep marks that did not seem to have been made by blades, but by something more brutal, more deliberate.
Nothing there suggested combat.
Only consequence.
He did not look away.
He continued.
That was when he stopped.
Leaning against a blackened wall, partially supported by what remained of the structure, a woman still breathed.
Her legs had been torn off.
The blood no longer flowed.
It had dried around her body, forming a dark base that held her to the ground as if she no longer belonged to the world of the living.
Her eyes were open.
But not on him.
Fixed on something that was no longer there.
Her son.
The small body remained at her feet.
She breathed.
With effort.
Each word seemed to pass through something before leaving.
"My… son…"
Her voice broke.
She tried again.
"He… died… believing…"
The air failed.
"That the gods… protected…"
Silence.
Brief.
Heavy.
"I… die… knowing…"
Her eyes trembled.
"That they… only… watch…"
A weak breath.
"Everything… burned…"
Her voice could barely hold anymore.
"By the same ones… who say… they protect…"
Silence fell over the space.
But she still resisted.
"You…"
Her eyes tried to focus.
They couldn't.
"You who still walk…"
One last effort.
"Do not become… one of them…"
Her body gave a little more against the wall.
Life was still there.
But it no longer remained whole.
The memory came without warning.
"For some, death is not the end… but relief."
Nika's voice did not echo.
It simply appeared.
"The greatest act of mercy."
Éreon stepped closer.
Stopped beside her.
There was no haste.
"I know."
Low.
Almost without sound.
"Totsuka no Tsurugi."
The movement was single.
Precise.
The blade slid through without resistance.
Her body relaxed.
A fragile smile appeared for an instant too brief to be understood—
and disappeared.
Silence returned.
Heavier.
Éreon remained there for a moment.
Still.
Then he moved on.
As if that were not the end of something—
but only another point along the path.