The words cut through the air, sharp and clear. Kael’s chest tightened as if a band had been drawn around him. He thought, for a heartbeat, that he had misheard. Hope was a cruel thing, and it had tricked him before. But the look in Daren’s eyes left no room for doubt.

  “You found them?” Kael asked, his voice unsteady.

  Daren nodded once, his expression firm. “Not just found. They are here, in the chamber below, waiting for you.”

  Kael’s fingers brushed the hammer at his side. His breath left him in a rush. For all the burdens—the rebuilding, the judgment of the elders, the silent hatred of the lords—this was the one weight that had pressed hardest. The thought of his companions gone, lost in some unmarked grave, had followed him through every night. And now Daren told him they lived.

  Without a word, Kael turned and left. His boots struck the stone with a steady rhythm as he crossed the upper passage, his pace quickening until he was almost running. The corridors seemed longer than ever, each corner pulling him forward, each step fueled by the pounding of his heart.

  The chamber doors stood open. Firelight spilled out, dancing across the floor. Kael slowed as he reached the threshold, his breath heavy, his hand tightening on the frame. Then he stepped inside.

  They were there.

  Rhea was the first his eyes found. She stood tall, her braid falling neatly over her shoulder, her arms crossed until she saw him. In that moment her face softened, pride and relief mixing as her eyes filled with tears. She stepped forward quickly, her boots firm on the floor.

  “Kael,” she breathed. Her voice cracked, but she did not care. She reached him, and before he could speak, she pulled him into a fierce embrace. Her arms locked around him, not gentle, but strong, unyielding, as if she feared he might vanish again.

  “You stubborn fool,” she whispered against his shoulder. “You really did it.”

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  Kael held her just as tightly. His throat closed, but he forced words out. “I promised. I said I’d bring us through. I couldn’t break that.”

  When she stepped back, her hands lingered on his arms, her gaze searching his face. “You’ve changed,” she said softly. “But you’re still you.”

  Before Kael could answer, a booming laugh filled the chamber.

  “By the ridges, look at him!” Joran strode forward, broad and solid as ever, his beard thick, his grin wide. He seized Kael by the shoulders, shaking him before delivering a clap to his back that nearly knocked the breath from him. “Carrying a hammer and a hall on those young shoulders. Never thought I’d live to see it.”

  Kael laughed, the sound strange to him after weeks of stern silence. “And I never thought I’d see you again, Joran. But I’m glad I was wrong.”

  “You’ll see me a lot more now,” Joran said with a grin. “Whether you like it or not.”

  Another figure moved forward, quieter than the rest. Tarin, his cloak frayed from travel, his boots worn. His sharp eyes studied Kael, tracing every line of his face, weighing what he saw. He stopped a step away, folding his arms.

  “You’re not the boy of before ,” Tarin said at last, his voice calm. “You stand different. Speak different. The weight’s on you now.”

  Kael met his gaze steadily. “Not gone,” he replied. “Only tempered.”

  A faint smile touched Tarin’s lips. “Good. Then I can still call you friend.”

  “Always,” Kael answered.

  Behind him, another set of footsteps sounded. Slower, steady, leaning on a staff. Orin came last. His hair was streaked with more grey than Kael remembered, his shoulders bent with the miles he had walked. But his eyes—his eyes carried the same spark, warm and bright, the kind that made even the darkest path less lonely.

  He stopped before Kael, studying him in silence. Then a smile crept across his face. “I knew it,” Orin said. “I told them all—you would not break. And here you are,, lord in truth.”

  Kael’s breath shook. “I thought I lost you,” he admitted, his voice raw.

  Orin reached out, laying a steady hand on Kael’s arm. “You cannot lose what still walks with you. We are here, Kael. We never left you in spirit.”

  The words struck deep. Kael blinked hard, forcing back the tears that stung his eyes. He looked at them all—Rhea, Joran, Tarin, Orin—his family in all but blood.

  They closed in around him, their hands clasping his, their voices overlapping.

  “You carried more than any man should,” Rhea said firmly. “But you won’t carry it alone anymore.”

  “Say the word,” Joran rumbled, “and I’ll raise walls higher than any storm can break.”

  “Or tear down the ones that should fall,” Tarin added with a faint smirk.

  “And I’ll remind you,” Orin said gently, “that even lords need laughter and song when the nights grow heavy.”

  Kael let out a shaky laugh, looking at them with more gratitude than words could hold. “Then together,” he said, his voice steady, “we’ll see this through. The ridges will rise again—that sound too cringe .”

  The chamber filled with their voices, their laughter, the sound of bonds reforged. The firelight glowed brighter, shadows dancing across their faces. For the first time in many months, Kael felt whole again.

  Yet even as joy washed over him, a thought pierced through. One face was missing.

  His eyes swept the room, searching each corner, each shadow. His chest tightened again, this time with unease.

  “Where…” His voice cracked. He steadied it, though his throat was dry. “Where is Lila?”

  The question fell like a stone, silencing the chamber.

  No one answered.