Dawn had barely touched the stones of Ridgehall when Kael stepped out of the ancient burial chamber of the Veyren line. His skin still tingled from the echo of the serpents’ voices, their hiss lingering in his bones like a phantom breath. The weight of his father’s memories—his mother’s laughter, his grandfather’s commands, the sorrow and fire that shaped the Veyren bloodline—rested on his shoulders like an invisible cloak.

  Daren stood a few paces away, blind yet impossibly sharp, his head slightly tilted as if listening for something only he could hear. The white bandages wrapped around his eyes glowed faintly beneath the early light.

  Kael looked at him quietly.

  “You shouldn’t be standing already,” Daren said with a tired smirk, sensing his presence. “You died not too long ago, in case you forgot.”

  Kael exhaled slowly. “I didn’t forget.”

  “You sound different.”

  “I am different,” Kael answered, voice low, the serpents’ memory winding behind every word.

  Daren nodded once. “Good. You’ll need that difference.”

  They walked back toward Ridgehall in silence. Kael’s steps were steady, but the power inside him felt unsettled—like a storm coiled under his skin. The Serpent Soul he had touched in the graves had not fully accepted him. Not yet.

  He needed strength. More than he ever had.

  And Daren sensed it too.

  When they reached the training courtyard, Daren turned toward him sharply.

  “Kael,” he said, tone shifting from casual to grave. “Listen carefully. You need power. More than you can gain alone.”

  Kael folded his arms. “I know.”

  “No,” Daren said. “You don’t. Not fully.”

  He pointed blindly toward the distance.

  “The assassins… Eric’s awakening… the twin eye you possess, the one he unlocked—they’re not coincidences. Something larger is moving. Something that won’t stop.”

  Kael didn’t argue. He felt it too—a pressure, like the world itself was holding its breath.

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  “You need missions,” Daren continued. “Real ones. Dangerous ones. You need battles, challenges, exposure to the world outside Ridgehall.”

  Kael raised a brow. “You’re suggesting I join the guild?”

  “I’m not suggesting,” Daren said. “I’m telling you.”

  Kael blinked. “The guild won’t accept me easily. Not with my name. Not with what happened in the northern plains.”

  “Then don’t give them your name.”

  Daren shrugged. “Use a new one. A temporary one. Strength matters more than titles right now.”

  Kael considered it.

  The guild.

  A place filled with warriors, mercenaries, mages—missions ranked in difficulty, monsters that made assassins seem like insects. A place where strength was forged.

  It wasn’t a bad idea.

  “You’ll go today,” Daren said firmly.

  “You’re pushing a blind man’s authority,” Kael muttered.

  “Blind,” Daren snorted, “not useless.”

  Kael cracked a small smile—the first in days.

  Then he turned serious. “What about you? You should rest.”

  “I’ve rested enough,” Daren said. “And I still have my own path to walk.”

  Kael stiffened.

  Something in Daren’s tone felt… final.

  “Daren.”

  “Mm?”

  “You’re not planning anything reckless, are you?”

  Daren smirked. “Kael, I gave up my eyes, not my brains.”

  “That doesn’t ease my concern.”

  “Good,” Daren said. “Keep worrying. That means you’re alive.”

  Kael opened his mouth to argue, but Daren lifted a hand.

  “Before you go to the guild, I’m leaving Ridgehall. There’s something I need to confirm. Something about… the day you died.”

  Kael tensed. “What do you mean?”

  “There was someone there,” Daren murmured. “Someone watching the battle from far away. I felt their presence only for a moment—but it wasn’t human.”

  Kael’s jaw clenched.

  Another enemy?

  “How long will you be gone?” he asked.

  “As long as it takes,” Daren said. “This is something I have to do alone.”

  Kael stepped closer. “Daren—”

  “Kael,” Daren interrupted, “listen to me. Your role isn’t to follow me. Your role is to grow. To prepare. Eric survived. And he will be back—with more than fear next time.”

  Silence settled between them.

  Finally Kael nodded slowly. “Fine.”

  “Good,” Daren said. “Now get ready. Head to the guild, take missions, and get stronger. I’ll return when I can.”

  Kael didn’t like it. But he understood.

  They parted ways in the courtyard—Kael heading toward the city road leading to the Ridgehall Guild, Daren turning toward the forests that bordered the valley.

  As Kael disappeared from view, Daren tilted his head slightly, listening to the quiet wind.

  “Four days…” he whispered. “Four days you were gone. Four days of silence.”

  His fingers tightened around the wooden staff he used to navigate.

  “I won’t let that happen again.”

  He took his first step toward the forest path.

  And froze.

  There was someone there.

  He couldn’t see—but he felt the presence. A strange, cold aura. Not hostile… but not familiar either.

  Footsteps approached from the opposite direction of Ridgehall. Light. Controlled.

  Then they stopped right in front of him.

  Daren’s brows furrowed.

  “Who’s there?”

  The figure didn’t answer immediately.

  The silence stretched—long enough that Daren’s grip on his staff tightened.

  Finally, the stranger exhaled softly.

  A calm, almost relieved breath.

  Then a single word:

  “You.”

  Daren’s entire body went rigid.

  His heart lurched, pulse kicking hard against his ribs.

  He knew that voice.

  He hadn’t heard it in years.

  Not since the fall of the Eastern Wing.

  Not since the flames consumed the outpost.

  Not since the day Kael’s parents died.

  “…Impossible,” Daren whispered.

  But the figure took one step closer.

  “Daren,” the voice said quietly. “It’s been a long time.”

  Daren swallowed hard.

  He didn’t breathe.

  Didn’t move.

  His voice cracked.

  “You… How are you still alive?”

  The wind blew across the cliffside—cold and sharp.

  The stranger smiled faintly.

  “Because,” the voice murmured, “your sacrifice wasn’t the only one made that day.”

  Daren’s fingers trembled around his staff.