The third night was colder than the last.
Kaelien crouched near the remnants of a forgotten stone altar, the embers in his palm pulsing faintly with life. He'd tracked signs—small disturbances in the moss, faint disturbances of Riftling scent trails. He was close.
She had been through here. The woman from the tunnels.The one who had stood across from him, bloodied but unyielding.
He still didn't know her name.
Seren sat at the edge of a shallow ravine, her boots nearly touching the dark fog that clung to the Rift's lowest trench. She had hesitated too long. Had let exhaustion dictate her actions.
She should have gone deeper.
But she hadn't. And now it was too late.
The hum of magic pulsed beneath her like a second heartbeat, the very air saturated with it. She'd grown more attuned to it these last weeks, and she could feel it now—someone approaching.
A whisper of flame on the wind.
She scrambled back, summoning a small pulse of magic in her hand, listening to the steps—controlled, careful, trained. A warrior.
When she stepped out from behind the rocks, her heart sank.
It was him.
Kaelien's eyes locked on hers instantly, recognition flashing, then fading into cold calculation.
Neither of them spoke at first.
She held her sword ready.
He raised his daggers.
They advanced cautiously, warily. Not because of fear—because neither knew what the other was willing to do.
"You again," he said at last.
Her voice came quieter, more tired. "I could say the same."
Still no names. Still no reasons.
Just the tension between two nations wrapped in the silence of the Rift.
"I should kill you," Kaelien said.
"I thought you would try."
And that was enough.
He struck first, fast and low, his left dagger aiming for her side. Seren stepped back and turned with the blow, catching his arm on her bracer and pushing off, her blade slashing diagonally to force him to retreat.
He did.
But he was smiling slightly. Just slightly.
"You've trained well," he said.
Seren scowled. "Don't talk like we're old friends."
Their blades met again.
A brief exchange of motion—cut, parry, flame, frost—until the moment her foot slipped on a loose stone and he pressed in hard.
She fell back, rolled, came up panting.
"Still want to do this?" she asked, glaring.
But Kaelien didn't answer.
His eyes had drifted past her.
Seren turned—and froze.
A shadow stood at the top of the ridge.
Not a Riftling.
He wore the grey-silver armor of Velmora's elite. His face was hidden by a smooth mask of polished metal etched with silence-runes. No voice. No identity.
Only the promise of death.
The Warden of Silence.
Seren felt ice crack in her spine.
She had once admired the Steelkeepers. Six of Velmora's deadliest warriors. Living legends.
And now one stood before her. Not as an ally. But as an executioner.
Her thoughts raced.He was too fast to outrun. Too well-trained to outmaneuver. Too relentless to lose.
She was marked.
And worse—he had followed her this far. Deep into the Rift.
To kill her.
Kaelien turned slowly, his own stance shifting. "One of yours?" he asked, quietly.
Seren didn't answer. Not for a long time.
Finally: "Not anymore."
Her sword hand trembled slightly. She forced herself still.
This man had once stood above her in the command halls of Velmora. She had watched him receive honors. She had once saluted him.
Now he was going to kill her.
Unless she did what she had never considered.
Seren took one step closer to Kaelien. "Listen," she said, voice low. "You're here to kill me. I get it. But that man… will kill us both if we try to face him alone."
Kaelien's expression didn't change. "So what?"
"I don't know what you believe about Velmora. But I didn't come to the Rift to destroy. I came to learn. To stop something worse. I was loyal—until they sent him."
Her eyes locked on his. "I'm not asking you to trust me. I'm asking you to live."
Kaelien looked past her again, toward the Steelkeeper.
And then, slowly, reluctantly, he nodded once.
"I'll fight with you. Until he's dead."
Together, they turned to face the Warden.
For a single moment, neither nation mattered.Only survival.
And silence