The road from Lumara northward wound through mist-covered hills, then plunged into dense forests. Kael had left the city before dawn, dressed simply, a light bag slung over his shoulder. He didn't know exactly where he was going. But he knew Kaelan had passed this way.
The first hours were silent. Scattered farmsteads appeared one after another—small stone-and-timber constructions, grain fields bathed in dew. The few travelers he crossed lowered their heads and quickened their pace, without knowing why. There emanated from him a dull tension, an attention too precise, too calm.
He remembered their first meeting.
Sixty years earlier, in the Neverdie Realm. Kira was a half-demon kid, wounded, taken in after a skirmish at the border. He didn't speak. He watched everyone with sharp, wary grey-red eyes. Kael's officers wanted him executed. He was useless. He was too weak.
Kael had refused.
It wasn't pity. He saw in him a raw intelligence, a rare adaptability. He took him as a personal assistant—an unglamorous position but close to the throne. Kira wasn't grateful at first. He was furious. But he learned fast. He observed. He noted everything. Over the years, the anger had turned into loyalty.
And now, that boy had become Kaelan.
A man searching for seals and contracts.
Searching to free him.
Why?
---
By midday, he reached the village of Brumeval. It was a stopping point for merchants heading up to the northern mines. Inns were plentiful there but ill-frequented. Kael chose the most discreet one, settled near the window, and ordered a stew.
The waitress, a middle-aged woman, shot him a sidelong glance.
"Looking for a guide?" she asked, setting the bowl before him.
"No. I'm looking for someone."
"Who?"
"A man. Young. Black hair, grey-red eyes. A scar on his left cheekbone."
She hesitated.
"That depends. Are you a friend of his, or an enemy?"
Kael narrowed his eyes. The question wasn't innocent. This woman knew something.
"I'm the one he was looking for," he said simply.
She stepped back, paled slightly.
"By the Ancients… It's you."
She glanced around, nervous. Then she leaned in.
"He passed through here about two months ago. He paid to sleep in the back room, and he left something. He told me if anyone ever came asking those questions, I was to give it to them."
She disappeared into the back room. Kael remained still, his hand resting near the bowl. His mana was on alert. If this was a trap, he would see it coming.
She returned with a worn leather scroll, closed with a rough thong. Kael took it, unrolled it.
It was a piece of a map. A fragment of northern Noctyra, annotated by hand. Several points were circled, connected by hesitant lines. Notes in ancient Demonic, written in a tight script. And at the bottom, a short sentence:
"If you want to find me, don't look for me."
The message didn't sound like Kira. It sounded like someone else. Someone who knew Kael would come.
---
Meanwhile, further north, in a region so cold that frost covered the hills by autumn, Kaelan sat in a bare room.
He stared at the map spread before him. The Lumara fragment, the network of ancient paths, the residual energy circles. Everything matched.
The Demon King had awakened.
He'd known it for four days. An ancient mana spike, reported by one of his contacts at the border. A signature he hadn't sensed in ten years. That of Kael Neverdie.
He should have risen immediately. Headed south. Found him.
He had done none of that.
His fingers brushed the scar on his left cheekbone. He remembered the night he had received it. Not in battle. Not during a mission. In the palace, the eve of the great battle.
Kael had struck him.
Not out of anger. To mark him.
"If I fall, you'll survive. But you will never forget who you belong to."
Kira hadn't understood at the time. He thought it was cruelty. A final humiliation.
Then Elara's spell had closed around the Demon King's mind. And the palace had emptied. The Neverdie Realm kept turning, but without its master. Without its king.
Kira had wandered.
He had searched for meaning. A reason to stay.
He had found only one: to free him.
He had learned that Elara's spell was not a simple imprisonment. It was a mental prison—a dream constructed to hold Kael's mind captive. Breaking such a seal required knowledge that very few demons still possessed.
So he had searched.
Years of research. Black markets. Forbidden libraries. Debts. Betrayals. Deaths.
He had almost given up a dozen times.
But every night, the scar reminded him.
"You will never forget who you belong to."
He rose slowly. He folded the map, slid it into his coat. Outside, the wind blew over the rooftops of the small northern village where he had hidden. He had chosen this place for its discretion, not its comfort.
He now had to choose.
Go to Kael.
Or wait for Kael to come to him.
If he went to him, it seemed he accepted his old place. He became Kira again. The servant. The faithful shadow.
If he stayed here, he could observe. Test. See if the returning Demon King was truly the one he had served. Or if he was merely an empty shell, marked by ten years of dreams.
Kaelan closed his eyes.
He remembered the last sentence Kael had said to him before the battle.
Not the one about the scar. Another.
"Whatever happens, don't become me."
At the time, he hadn't understood. Now, after years of solitude and quest, he understood a little better.
He took a deep breath.
Then he stepped out into the cold night.
---
In Brumeval, Kael carefully rolled up the map fragment. The waitress had moved away, visibly relieved not to have been killed. There was no trace of offensive magic on the leather. It was a simple message.
"If you want to find me, don't look for me."
Kael smiled slowly.
It wasn't a provocation. It was a test. Kaelan wanted to see how he would react. He wanted to know if the Demon King would give in to anger, or if he would think.
It was exactly what a former assistant of Kael would do.
He slipped the fragment into his inner pocket.
"Very well, Kaelan," he murmured. "We'll play your game."
But he hadn't come to be tested.
He had come to take back what was his.
---
Somewhere in the north, Kaelan stopped at the edge of a trail.
The wind brought him a distant scent. Ash. Ice. And something else. A faint trace of mana he hadn't felt in ten years.
The Demon King was approaching.
Kaelan hesitated.
Then he turned around and headed in a slightly different direction.
Not to flee.
To lead.
If Kael wanted to find him, he would have to earn it. And if he succeeded, then maybe Kaelan would finally know if he should remain a servant.
Or become something else.
---
Back on the northern road, Kael walked at a steady pace. Night was falling. The forests thickened. The temperature dropped.
He couldn't yet sense Kaelan's presence.
But he knew it would come.