The Enforcer raised their hand, magic pulsing along their arm. A glow — familiar. Binding magic?

  A Council member stepped forward, robes sharp and pristine, face shadowed beneath a gilded hood.

  "You really thought you could come into our city unnoticed?"

  Astrid’s grip on Kurai’s hand tightened.

  Stay calm.

  "I don’t understand. Have we done something wrong?" she asked, voice light, fake.

  She stepped in front of Kurai before he could speak.

  "We’re just here sightseeing. My brother’s always wanted to see the capital."

  The Councillor tilted their head. "Very cute, dear. But you’re not fooling me. Detain them."

  The Enforcers moved in.

  A sharp hiss of magic cracked the air.

  Not from the Enforcers.

  From above.

  The cloaked figure dropped between them; one hand outstretched. The binding glyph shattered mid-cast with a sound like breaking glass. The streetlights sparked, flared, and died.

  "Run," the figure snapped.

  Kurai didn’t hesitate. He grabbed Astrid’s hand.

  They bolted as the stranger flung another burst of raw spelllight, knocking an Enforcer into a vendor stall. Screams erupted behind them.

  "Follow me!" he shouted, already running.

  Wait he’s not one of them?

  Astrid tried to get a read on Kurai’s face, but all she saw was raw fear.

  Not panic — focus.

  Like a storm trying to hold itself together.

  They ran. Footsteps and shouts echoed behind them.

  "Down here!" the stranger called. Kurai yanked her through a narrow gate. Down crumbling stairs. Into the dark.

  The city’s sounds vanished, swallowed by stone.

  Their steps echoed through the damp, the air cold and breathing with forgotten magic.

  The stranger led the way, silent.

  Kurai still hadn’t said a word, his grip a lifeline.

  Astrid’s side ached, lungs burning.

  "What the hell was that? Who the hell are you?"

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  "A concerned citizen," the man said. "I’ll explain—if we don’t get caught. And that won’t happen if you don’t move faster."

  She wanted to argue, but Kurai’s silence was louder.

  She squeezed his hand — a pulse of worry.

  He jerked slightly — snapped out of his thoughts like she’d shocked him.

  Met her eyes and gave her a look: It’s okay.

  She wasn’t so sure.

  They reached a chamber.

  High ceilings, cracked pillars, and faded sigils lined the walls. The air felt... wrong.

  Like magic gone sour.

  Murals lined the stone: dragons flying beside mortals, golden flames lighting cities, reverence etched in every image.

  Astrid slowed, stumbling to a stop as adrenaline drained from her system.

  She pressed her palm against the nearest pillar, breathing hard.

  The stone was cold. Steady.

  She needed steady right now.

  Her heart still raced, mind flashing images of Enforcers, of Kurai’s mark flaring at the scanner.

  We barely made it out. If not for that stranger...

  She wiped the sweat from her brow and looked over —

  and froze.

  Kurai stood perfectly still, staring at the murals.

  He wasn’t tense.

  He wasn’t analysing.

  He looked almost... reverent.

  Like something deep inside him recognized this place, the images before him.

  Like something forgotten was stirring behind his golden eyes.

  Astrid watched him, a strange ache blooming in her chest.

  A mix of fear — and awe.

  He looks more at home here than anywhere else.

  But just as quickly, it was gone.

  Kurai blinked, tearing his gaze away, and tugged her hand.

  "Kurai? Are you—"

  "Keep moving," the stranger said.

  Kurai didn’t argue. Just walked faster.

  They ducked beneath a broken archway, through a hallway slick with dripping water and old enchantments. Finally, the man stopped.

  "This is far enough.”

  “My name is Silas," he said. "I used to wear their robes. Before I remembered what we were meant to protect. I’m sorry for not introducing myself earlier — I had to make sure we weren’t followed."

  Kurai’s voice was quiet. "You’re Council."

  "Was."

  “I still have some friends on the inside, when I heard the whispers about the two of you, I had to come see for myself.”

  Silas pulled down his hood — elven, dark hair streaked with silver, a scar across his cheekbone.

  "I left centuries ago. When I saw what they were doing. What they were becoming. When I found the real history."

  Astrid stepped forward. "What history?"

  Silas looked at Kurai. "The one where dragons weren’t monsters. Where power wasn’t something to fear. The one they buried, rewrote, and burned."

  Kurai’s jaw clenched. He looked back toward the murals.

  Silas went on, his voice rough with memory.

  "They turned the people against anything ancient. Said it was dangerous. Unstable. But that wasn’t fear — it was control. When the veil began to fracture, and you arrived—" he looked at Astrid—"whispers of the prophecy returned. That’s when I knew it was time to stop hiding and time to act."

  "Time to act?" Astrid asked.

  Silas smiled grimly. "Rebellion, save the world."

  A low howl echoed through the dark.

  Not human.

  It broke through before Astrid could question him further.

  Astrid turned.

  "What was—"

  "Spellhound," Silas cursed. "Run."

  They ran.

  The tunnel pulsed with magic.

  Roots split the stone.

  The air pressed in, tight and boiling.

  The sound came first — a clicking rhythm, like jaws chewing stone.

  Then she saw it.

  It didn’t look like the barghurst.

  It moved wrong. Limbs too long. Eyes molten red. Skin cracked and glowing from within, stitched by fire.

  It bared its teeth.

  Astrid’s lungs seized.

  Its breath hit her like steam.

  It was too fast.

  She ran, but she was slowing.

  Kurai looked back.

  Then he let go of her hand — and shoved her forward, in front of him.

  She stumbled.

  Heat bloomed.

  Kurai had stopped.

  "Kurai!"

  His hands glowed — his mark blazed.

  He whispered, "Don’t touch her."

  Magic flared.

  The tunnel lit with raw, untamed flame — no shape, no control. Just force.

  It struck stone, buckling walls.

  Kurai grabbed her again, throwing them both out of the way — just as the ceiling collapsed.

  Silence.

  Dust rained like ash.

  She blinked up — Kurai was beneath her, arms around her, shaking.

  "Holy shit," she whispered.

  "You could’ve brought the whole place down."

  "I’m sorry," he said, voice muffled into her hair.

  She couldn’t be mad.

  Not with his voice like that.

  Not when he was still holding her.

  She let him.

  Silas stood nearby, staring at the rubble.

  "That’s some magic you’ve got, I’m impressed.”

  “Come now — no time to lay around, we aren’t out of the woods yet"

  Kurai looked up at her.

  He opened his mouth, but no words came out.

  Instead, he closed it, as if swallowing what he was about to say.

  There was something he wanted to say.

  She felt it.

  But whatever it was, he buried it.

  He let her go. Astrid stood slowly, brushing herself off.

  When she looked up, Kurai had stepped closer — his expression softer than she’d ever seen it.

  What is this expression?

  His fingers brushed her cheek.

  Just dust.

  Just a moment.

  But her heart still jumped.

  They walked in silence.

  The path narrowed.

  A soft blue glow pulsed ahead.

  Astrid glanced at Kurai. His face unreadable. His jaw tight.

  She remembered the first time she saw him use magic — clean, sharp, like a blade.

  This time? It felt like a scream.

  She hesitated.

  Then she reached out and took his hand.

  Steady. Grounding.

  She wasn’t afraid of him.

  But she was afraid for him.

  She’d seen people break before. But Kurai didn’t break — he burned. And that was worse.

  And what he might become if no one helped him cool it.

  Kurai muttered, barely audible,

  "I didn’t mean to lose it."

  "I know," she said.

  Even if she wasn’t sure.

  Behind them, Silas watched in silence and for the first time in decades, he felt hope for this crumbling world.

  So, this is what hope looks like, he thought.

  Not fire. Not prophecy. But a boy who would burn the world to protect a girl. And a girl who refused to let him do it alone.