The forest around the Rift's edge was silent, save for the ragged breaths of two warriors—Seren and Kaelien. They leaned against opposite trees, muscles aching, minds clouded by exhaustion and the weight of what had passed. The battle had ended not with a kill, but with an unspoken truce.
"I don't want to fight anymore," Kaelien said quietly, eyes still scanning the shadows.
Seren nodded. Her heart pounded, not from exertion but from the storm of emotions swirling within her. She had crossed a line she never thought she would. She had fought beside one of her enemies, and that truth clawed at her soul.
"We let each other live," she whispered.
Kaelien gave a tired, humorless smile. "For now."
Once again they parted ways.
Far away, in the heart of Kael'Thar's ancient stone halls, Kaelien stood before the Flame Circle. Their fiery faces glared at him from around the Hearth Temple's endless flames, their voices crackling with accusation and disbelief.
"How did you kill a Steelkeeper?" Maeril's voice was the first, calm but insistent, cutting through the tension like a blade.
Kaelien swallowed hard, forcing his voice steady. "We fought together. It wasn't just me. The Warden of Silence fell to both of us."
A roar of disbelief came from the eldest Flamelord, his eyes burning like coals. "You speak as if you allied with an enemy warrior! Against your own people! Against your own blood!"
Kaelien's gaze dropped to the cold stone floor. "It was not a choice. I could not outrun him forever."
Another Flamelord spat, "You spared an enemy? You showed her mercy? Do you understand the consequences of such weakness?"
"I understand," Kaelien said firmly, "that mercy could cost us everything. But I also understand that sometimes survival demands it. I did what I had to."
Maeril's voice softened, "You saved your life, yes. But you have stained your honor, Kaelien. Mercy is a luxury the Flame Circle cannot afford. You know our laws."
The circle's murmurs grew louder, their faces hardening.
"The Rift is no place for weakness," growled another Flamelord. "The enemy is not to be spared. Not when they threaten all we protect."
Kaelien raised his head, voice trembling but resolute, "I have betrayed the Circle."
The eldest Flamelord slammed a fist onto the stone altar, flames licking hungrily from his knuckles. "Then you will suffer like those you once called enemies—imprisoned, silenced, broken."
Guards moved forward, binding Kaelien with enchanted shackles that sapped his strength and sealed his voice like a tomb.
Meanwhile, in the shadows of the Rift's first layer, Seren adjusted the straps on her pack, pulling a hood tight over her hair. The cold bit harder here as the veil between layers thinned, but she welcomed it—it was a reminder of the world she had left behind.
She glanced back at the safe camp she had built near the surface, a few days' rest and preparation behind her. The second layer awaited below, and with it, the growing pulse of magic and danger.
If I descend now, I might finally uncover the secrets that bind the Rift.
But she carried a heavier weight too: the knowledge that Velmora had sent a Steelkeeper after her, that her own people hunted her for desertion. She had become an enemy, not only to Kael'Thar, but to her homeland.
There was no turning back.
That night, as the moon dipped beneath the horizon, Maeril slipped through the temple corridors alone carrying Kaelien's equipment. Her steps were swift but quiet, eyes shadowed with fear and defiance. She found Kaelien's cell and worked quickly to undo the bindings that held him prisoner.
"You are condemned," she whispered, "the Flame Circle has voted to kill you. You have shown mercy, and mercy is death to them. Once they find out that you escaped, they'll do everything they can to kill you. Do you understand what this means?
Kaelien's eyes glistened with tears he could not shed. "I do. they're going to send an emberlord after me. But what hope do I have now? I have nowhere to go."
Maeril's voice was fierce. "One path remains—the only one who can keep you alive."
He nodded once, understanding the unspoken meaning. His fate was tied to the Velmoran rogue. With a final glance at the flames flickering beyond the cell, he disappeared into the night.
Seren tightened her grip on her sword's hilt, the weight of the coming descent pressing on her soul.
Soon, their paths would cross again.