That night, sleep came unwillingly.
When it did, it did not belong to Elira alone.
She stood in a field that stretched endlessly beneath a sky stained gold and crimson. The air was warm, alive—so unlike the broken world she had come to know within the Ruined King's domain.
And then she saw him.
Kael.
Not as he was now, but younger. Unburdened in a way that felt almost impossible. His expression held something she had never seen before—something unguarded.
He was not alone.
A figure stood before him, cloaked in light she could not fully comprehend. A woman, though her face remained obscured, her presence radiated something vast and unyielding.
"You cannot change what is written," the woman said.
Kael's voice, younger yet just as resolute, answered, "Then I will break what was written."
The world trembled.
Elira felt it through the dream—through the bond—through something deeper than understanding.
Then the vision shattered.
She woke with a sharp breath, her heart racing, her hands trembling slightly where they rested against the sheets.
That had not been imagination.
It had been memory.
But not hers.