Kael Ashvane returned to the cliff's edge with Selene limp in his arms.
The wind up there cut cold and clean, tugging at his clothes, whispering over stone. He ignored it. His focus was on the ward still clinging to her—one of Eya's Void Wards. He muttered the unbinding phrase she had taught him, fingers tracing the pattern in the air.
The ward peeled away like a skin of nothingness.
Selene lay against him, soft, breathing steady, untouched. No wounds. No blood. Just… gone somewhere deep inside herself.
Only then did the tight coil in his chest loosen.
"Come on, Sel," he murmured, shaking her gently. "Wake up. We got what we came for. Time to head back to Mirekeep."
No response.
Her body was warm, pliant—too pliant. She sagged in his arms like silk soaked in wine, head lolling against his shoulder. He shook her harder.
"Selene."
Nothing.
Kael frowned, eyes narrowing. Then it clicked.
"That damned fruit…" he muttered. "Stronger than it looks."
The stuff she'd eaten—sweet, fragrant, harmless-looking. And it had knocked her flat like this.
He exhaled sharply, annoyed but not panicked. She was breathing fine. Just… drunk. Deeply, impossibly drunk.
"Alright," he muttered. "You sleep it off. I'll handle the rest."
He pulled open his Wardian Satchel, spoke another short incantation, and dragged out the Griffin Carriage.
The beast-drawn vehicle unfolded into existence with a low hum, its frame gleaming faintly in the dying light.
Kael lifted Selene in both arms and laid her carefully across the cushioned seat.
Then he glanced sideways.
Hadrian Corvel lay sprawled nearby, body useless.
Kael snorted.
"Lucky day for you," he said, nudging the man with his boot. "This ride alone is worth your life."
He crouched, grabbed Hadrian by the collar, and hauled him up with little ceremony. The man's body flopped like dead weight.
"And if I catch you sniffing around her again," Kael added, voice dropping cold, "I'll leave you here for the spiders to chew through. Slow."
He shoved Hadrian onto the carriage's footrest, wedging him in place like unwanted baggage.
Then Kael hopped up, seized the reins, and snapped them.
Nothing happened.
The four beasts hitched to the carriage stamped lazily, snorting, completely ignoring him.
Kael blinked.
"…You're kidding me."
He pulled harder. "Move."
The beasts flicked their ears.
And did not move.
Kael stared at them, then slowly turned his gaze toward Hadrian.
"That bastard used something," he muttered. "What was it… lightning… something."
He leaned down, rifling through Hadrian's clothes with growing irritation. Pockets, sleeves, belt—nothing.
"No whip," Kael growled. "Of course not."
He paused, frowning deeper.
"Satchel?" he guessed.
That made it worse. Everyone's satchel was ward-locked. Without the proper incantation, he could tear it apart and still get nothing out.
Kael's jaw tightened.
He sat back, exhaling sharply. For a moment, he just glared at the beasts.
Then his temper snapped.
"Fine," he muttered.
His hand flicked. The Eight-Claw Flamescourge uncoiled from his arm like a living thing.
He snapped it through the air.
The crack split the air like thunder—fire bursting along the whip's length in a violent flare, heat rolling outward in a wave that made the beasts rear back.
"Move," Kael barked, voice cutting like steel. "Or I'll light your hides up myself."
The beasts froze.
Another crack—louder, hotter.
The carriage jolted.
Then—
They bolted.
The Griffin Carriage surged forward like it had been kicked by a god, wind tearing at Kael's hair as the world blurred.
Kael grinned, sharp and satisfied.
"There we go," he said. "Now you understand."
He leaned back slightly, loosening the reins with casual confidence.
"Stick with me," he added, patting the side rail, "and you'll eat better than kings."
The beasts ran faster.
—
It took him longer than he liked to find the way out.
The stone marker stood where he remembered it—blank, ancient, unmarked. The entrance point.
Kael pulled the carriage to a stop, dismissed it, and carried Selene down again. Hadrian followed—less gently—dumped beside her.
Kael circled the stone.
Once.
Twice.
He muttered the sequence under his breath. "Reverse nine… forward seven…"
He followed it exactly.
Nothing happened.
He tried again.
And again.
The world stayed stubbornly the same.
After the fourth attempt, Kael stopped, breathing harder than he should've been.
"Don't tell me I got it wrong," he muttered.
He wiped sweat from his brow, mind racing. He could wake Hadrian. Break the ward, drag answers out of him—
His hand hovered.
Then he froze.
"…Wait."
His eyes sharpened.
"What if it's reversed?"
He turned back to the stone.
"Forward nine… reverse seven."
He moved again, counting each step precisely.
The air shifted.
The world… slipped.
The oppressive weight of the Vale peeled away, and suddenly the sky felt wider, the wind different.
They were out.
Kael barked a short laugh, smacking his forehead.
"Idiot," he muttered to himself. "Of course it's reversed."
He stepped back inside briefly, dragged Selene and Hadrian fully out, then summoned the Griffin Carriage again.
This time, the beasts needed no encouragement.
They tore across the land like a storm.
—
Dusk bled into night as Kael drove.
The sky burned with streaks of crimson and gold before sinking into deep violet. Wind roared past his ears. The carriage flew over hills and broken ground, covering distance at a pace no ordinary mount could match.
Selene lay draped against him, her body warm, her breath soft against his chest.
Hadrian remained wedged beneath his foot.
Kael's mood soared.
The haul. The journey. The sheer absurdity of it all.
He threw his head back and sang.
Loud. Off-key. Completely shameless.
A mountain song—rough, bright, full of crude pride and careless longing.
His voice carried into the wind, echoing across the hills.
He didn't care who heard.
—
They reached Mirekeep by early night.
The Griffin Carriage swept over the northern ridge and descended into the estate built against the mountainside.
Kael landed in a quiet corner, hidden from the main paths.
He unbound the ward on Hadrian with a quick incantation.
Then kicked him off the carriage.
The man hit the ground hard, groaning faintly.
"Walk it off," Kael muttered, already turning away.
He drove the carriage onward, slipping through the estate's back routes until he reached a secluded garden behind one of the smaller residences.
He dismissed the carriage again.
Then hoisted Selene onto his back.
Her arms fell loosely around his shoulders. Her cheek pressed against his neck.
Warm.
Soft.
Completely unaware.
Kael adjusted his grip and moved.
Quietly.
He stopped outside a door, pressed his ear to it.
Inside—scratching sounds. Paper. Brush.
No voices.
Good.
He pushed the door open.
Zaeli sat at a table under lamplight, bent over stacks of freshly inscribed wards. The room smelled faintly of ink and herbs.
She looked up.
Her eyes widened.
"Elder Soror Selene—what happened?"
"Drunk," Kael said immediately, glancing around. "Clear a spot."
Zaeli hurried over, helping him lay Selene onto the bed.
She frowned, touching Selene's arm.
"She's… completely gone," she murmured. "What did she drink?"
"Something strong," Kael said. "Listen—keep this quiet. No one else needs to know."
Zaeli straightened, eyes narrowing.
"You made her drink, didn't you?"
Kael raised both hands. "Wrong. She chose to."
"Chosen?" Zaeli shot back. "She barely drinks at all."
Kael winced. "Unlucky night."
Zaeli folded her arms. "I should tell Lady Isara."
Kael stepped in fast, catching her arm lightly.
"Don't," he said, dropping his voice. "Come on. Help me out here."
She tried to pull away. He held on just enough to stop her.
"You're kind," he pressed, smiling. "Kindest in the whole place. That's why I came to you."
Zaeli hesitated.
"…What actually happened?" she demanded.
"Just a small tavern in the city," Kael said smoothly. "Good drinks. We… overdid it."
She snorted. "And you didn't invite me."
"I'll fix that," Kael said quickly. "Tomorrow. I'll take you somewhere better."
"I don't want your bribes."
"It's not a bribe."
"It is."
"Fine," he said. "Then it's an apology."
She tried to stay stern.
Failed.
"…I'm busy," she muttered, glancing back at the stacks of wards.
"I'll help," Kael said instantly.
"No," she said, faster. "Absolutely not."
He laughed under his breath.
She sighed, rubbing her temple.
"…Go," she said finally. "I won't say anything. This time."
Kael's grin broke wide.
"You're a lifesaver."
She didn't answer.
He turned to leave—
Then paused.
"…Wait."
He turned back, eyes glinting.
"I picked up something interesting today."
Zaeli groaned. "Not now."
"Rare materials," Kael pressed. "And a strange construct piece."
"I don't care."
"You might."
"I won't."
Kael tilted his head, studying her.
Then he smiled.
"Close your eyes."
She stiffened. "Why?"
"Trust me."
"I don't trust you."
"Just this once."
She hesitated.
Then, slowly, she shut her eyes.
"…If you mess with me—"
"I won't."
Kael reached into his satchel.
Drew out the ribbon of captured rainbow.
He wrapped it gently around her neck and shoulders.
It settled like silk.
Warm. Weightless.
Alive with color.
"Alright," he said softly. "Look."
Zaeli opened her eyes.
And froze.
Light spilled across her skin—soft, shifting hues that turned the room into a dreamscape. The rainbow shimmered like liquid glass, draped around her as if it belonged there.
Her breath caught.
"What… is this?" she whispered.
"A rainbow," Kael said.
She stared at it, fingers trembling as she touched the surface.
It felt real.
Soft.
Impossible.
"…Where did you get this?" she asked, voice barely there.
Kael grinned.
"Long story."
He turned, already heading for the door.
"I'll tell you tomorrow."
"Wait—"
He was gone.
Zaeli stood there, alone, the rainbow pooled in her hands.
She lifted it slowly, pressing it to her cheek.
Her expression shifted—confusion, wonder, something softer.
She stayed that way for a long time.
—
Morning came cold and pale.
Kael stood on a quiet path behind the estate when Lyra Farrow arrived, stretching lazily as she approached.
"You dragged me out here at dawn," she said, voice smooth with sleep. "This better be worth it."
Kael smiled.
"I think you'll like it."
She arched a brow.
"You don't get to decide what I like."
He didn't answer.
Instead, he took her wrist.
Pulled her into the trees.
Lyra started to protest—
Then stopped.
Her gaze landed on the pile.
Hundreds of lengths of green bamboo, stacked neatly. Each one gleamed faintly, alive with inner strength.
"Warding-Vase Bamboo," she said, surprised.
She turned to him sharply.
"Hadrian brought this back?"
Kael shook his head.
"I did."
She studied him.
"…You."
He nodded, smug.
"He went to the Vale," Kael said. "Came back empty-handed. I didn't."
Lyra's eyes narrowed slightly.
"Explain."
And Kael did.
He told her everything—the trip, the Vale, the spiders, Eya.
All of it.
Lyra listened without interrupting.
When he finished, she was silent for a moment.
"…Verdant Artificers," she murmured. "So the rumors were true."
She looked at him again.
"You said the girl was a disciple of the Fell Sage?"
"That's what she claimed."
Lyra frowned faintly.
"That doesn't fit," she said. "If she's truly that, crossing the Thousand-Web Ridge shouldn't have required your help."
Kael bristled immediately.
"It wasn't easy," he snapped. "You didn't see it. Without me, she'd have had a hard time."
Lyra gave him a look.
Amused. Unconvinced.
He scowled.
She let the silence stretch.
Then, slowly, a smile curved her lips.
"Well," she said. "You've grown bold."
Kael brightened instantly, chest lifting.
"It was nothing, really—"
"Bold enough," she cut in, "to charm a girl into handing over this much."
The words hit like a slap.
Kael's face flushed red.
"That's not—!"
Lyra's smile didn't change.
He sputtered, furious and embarrassed all at once.
"You're twisting it!"
Her expression shifted.
The amusement faded.
What replaced it was sharp.
Cold.
"Jokes aside," she said quietly, "be careful."
Kael stilled.
"She's tied to something dangerous," Lyra continued. "A disciple of that kind doesn't give gifts without reason. If you let yourself get pulled in, you won't even notice when the trap closes."
Kael frowned.
But didn't answer.
For once, he didn't have a quick line ready.
And that silence lingered.
Kael stiffened under Lyra's gaze.
"Shreve," he said quickly, bowing his head just enough to show he'd heard her warning. "I'll remember."
The sharpness in her eyes eased. The smile returned—lighter now, but never harmless.
"Whatever the truth of it," Lyra said, "you did well. That haul of Warding-Vase Bamboo isn't nothing."
Kael's mood turned on a coin. His chest lifted again, pride slipping back into place. "Then… a reward?"
Lyra snorted. "No."
He blinked. "No?"
"It's not my bamboo," she said flatly. "You think I'm handing out prizes for someone else's forest?"
Kael stepped closer anyway, grin already back, shameless as ever. "Without those shafts, how's your Earthrend Arbalest supposed to show its teeth? I made you look good, Shreve. That's worth something."
He caught her wrist, leaned in, all easy familiarity where there should've been distance. No sense of rank. No restraint.
Lyra gave him a look that should have cut him down.
It didn't.
"Unruly little bastard," she muttered, though there was no real heat in it. "Fine. Since you won't stop pestering—one thing. I'll teach you one thing."
Kael lit up instantly. "Really?"
"But listen carefully." Her voice dropped. The air around them seemed to tighten. "This is not something you flaunt. I teach it. You learn it. No one else hears a word."
Kael nodded fast. "Of course. I won't tell anyone."
Lyra held his gaze a moment longer, weighing him.
Then she said, "The Shape-Borrowing Art."
Kael blinked. "An escape technique?"
"A survival technique," she corrected quietly. "Because you—" her eyes narrowed slightly "—are reckless. You don't know where the line is between ally and enemy. One day, that'll catch up to you."
He didn't argue.
"Learn this," she said, "and maybe—when that day comes—you'll live long enough to regret it."
---
Kael pushed open Zaeli's door without thinking, already calling out—
Then he froze.
The bed-curtain was drawn.
He shut his mouth at once.
A moment later, the door behind him slid open again. Zaeli stepped in, carrying a basin of water. She stopped when she saw him.
"You again?"
"What time is it?" Kael asked, lowering his voice. "She's still not up?"
Zaeli frowned. "That's what I want to know. Soror Selene's been asleep since last night. I tried waking her this morning—she wouldn't budge. Like she's made of stone."
Kael scratched his cheek, thinking. The fruit from that strange plant… he'd only used a little.
"Strong stuff," he muttered to himself, then waved it off. "Let her sleep. Try again later."
Zaeli studied him. "What did you give her?"
"Wine," Kael said smoothly. "Good wine."
"There's no such wine," Zaeli said at once. "I've never heard of it."
"You've never tasted anything like it either," Kael shot back. Then, leaning closer, lowering his voice, "If you don't believe me… come by tonight. I'll let you try."
She blinked. "Tonight? In your room?"
He leaned in further, lips near her ear. "Quietly."
Zaeli stiffened, heat rising up her neck. "Quietly…?"
"I'll tell you a story too," he added. "Something you'll want to hear."
She shot him a look—half suspicion, half something else entirely. "You?"
"Don't believe me?" he said, offended.
She bit her lip. "No."
Kael clicked his tongue. "Then you'd better come. You wanted to know where that rainbow came from, didn't you?"
Her breath caught.
She looked away, fingers twisting in her sleeve. For a long moment, she said nothing.
"I'll be waiting," Kael said, already turning toward the door.
"I'm not coming," she said quickly.
"You'll regret it," he tossed back, grinning as he left.
Zaeli stood there long after he was gone.
Only when the silence settled did she realize her hand had drifted to the bracelet on her wrist.
Her face flushed hard.
"Idiot…" she muttered under her breath.
---
Moonlight spilled through the window, pale and soft.
Kael sat alone at the table, cup in hand.
He took a slow sip.
Paused.
Then slammed the cup down with a sharp exhale.
"Good," he breathed. "Damn good."
The liquid burned warm as it went down, but not harsh—sweet, thick, almost intoxicating in itself. The crushed fruit had changed everything.
He drank again.
And again.
The warmth spread through his chest, through his limbs. His thoughts loosened, drifting.
"If two fruits can do this…" he muttered, already reaching for more. "What about four? Five?"
He peeled another, dropped it in, shook the vessel, then drank straight from it.
Time blurred.
Half the flask was gone before he noticed.
He leaned back, staring at the door.
Waiting.
Nothing.
"She's not coming…" he muttered after a while, disappointment creeping in. "Figures."
He drank again.
The world tilted a little.
And somehow, in that haze, another face surfaced.
Eya.
Her quiet eyes. The way she'd looked at him before leaving.
Alone, down in that silent place.
Kael's grip tightened on the cup.
"She's down there by herself…" he muttered. "No one to talk to… nothing but stone…"
The thought gnawed at him.
Suddenly, he lurched forward, grabbing for his Wardian Satchel. "I've got the Heartseek Ward… I could—"
He fumbled.
Missed.
Tried again.
Nothing.
The activation phrase slipped through his mind like water through fingers.
"Damn it…" he hissed, shaking his head hard. "What was it…?"
He tried again.
Failed again.
Frustration built fast. He dragged a hand through his hair, then let the satchel drop.
Then he froze.
"…Peria."
Of course.
He staggered to the window, snatched up the Lone-Bud Branch, and forced the shorter invocation through his tongue.
This time, it worked.
A faint shape shimmered into view—small, delicate, hovering in the air.
Peria.
She brightened the moment she saw him.
"You called me!"
Kael laughed, relief flooding him. "Come here."
He reached out. She drifted straight into his arms without hesitation, wrapping herself around him like she belonged there.
"Miss me?" he asked.
"Yes," she said at once, lifting her face to his. "I kept waiting. You didn't call."
"Busy," he said, softer now. "My fault."
She nodded, accepting it just like that.
"I like being with you," she added, shy but earnest.
Kael smiled faintly. "I know."
He reached for the drink again. "Try this."
Peria tilted her head. "What is it?"
"Something I made."
She leaned in, took a small sip—
And immediately shivered.
Her cheeks flushed.
"It's warm," she said, blinking. "Sweet… I like it."
Kael watched her, something shifting in his gaze.
"Have more," he said.
She did.
And the more she drank, the softer her movements became, the more her voice blurred into something lighter, breathier.
The room felt smaller.
Closer.
Kael leaned in, brushing his lips against hers—tentative at first, then deeper as she responded, curious, unguarded.
She followed his lead without question.
Everything about her was open. Trusting.
Dangerously so.
His hands moved. Hers followed.
The warmth from the drink burned through both of them now, dulling edges, sharpening instincts.
"Again…?" she murmured at one point, not even sure what she was asking.
Kael didn't answer.
He didn't need to.
The moment stretched—
And snapped.
"—What are you doing?!"
The shout cracked through the room like a blade.
Both of them jolted.
Kael turned—
Zaeli stood in the doorway, eyes blazing, hand already forming a sharp, practiced seal.
Her gaze locked onto Peria.
"Spirit-filth," she snapped. "You dare—"
Kael's blood ran cold.
He knew that technique.
"Stop!" he shouted, lunging forward.
Too late.
Zaeli's hand drove forward—
Straight toward Peria's brow.