The fire had burned low, casting long, flickering shadows across the cracked walls of the ruined waystation. Seris sat against a stone pillar, her sword across her lap, eyes narrowed into the dark as the wind whispered through crumbled archways. Aeren and Lorent had finally drifted to sleep, curled in their cloaks. Kael, however, lingered beside her.
"You should rest," she said softly, not taking her eyes off the ruins' edge.
He smirked faintly. "Only if you'll stop pretending you don't want company."
Seris didn't smile, but her shoulder leaned just slightly into his. "I don't pretend," she murmured.
"No," he said. "You just carry the world on your shoulders and call it silence."
She turned to him then, and in the firelight, her eyes seemed less like steel and more like dusk before the storm.
"We leave at first light," she said. "Southwest. Toward the old garrison tower in the Blackspine foothills. The survivors may have passed through there, if any still live."
"And if it's just bones and dust?"
"Then we find their names," she said. "And burn them into memory."
Kael nodded. "You speak like a queen again."
"I don't want to be a queen," she whispered. "I just want them to stop dying."
A long silence passed, and Kael reached out, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "Then let's make sure no more die for nothing."
She closed her eyes, leaned into his touch. "Stay with me," she said.
"I'm not going anywhere."
That night, as sleep crept in and Seris finally allowed herself to rest, the world shifted.
She dreamed again.
But this time, it was not the shattered palace or the screaming fire. It was a garden.
Overgrown, wild. Flowers climbing cracked walls. A swing hung crooked from a dead tree.
She stood in the center, barefoot, blood on her palms, but it wasn't hers.
A child stood before her, a boy with Kael's eyes. He reached out to her with hands soaked in ash.
"You promised," he said.
Seris stumbled back. "Promised what?"
"To remember," he whispered. "To return."
A great shadow moved behind him, something vast and shapeless, and she turned to flee, but roots rose from the earth, snaring her ankles.
"Seris!"
The voice that cut through the dream was real.
Kael.
She gasped awake.
Kael had her shoulders, shaking gently. "You were thrashing."
Her breath came in shallow pulls. "I saw… a child. A promise. Something's coming."
Kael's brow furrowed. "Another vision?"
She nodded. "But this one… it felt like a warning. Not just memory."
Dawn broke in red hues, blood-tinged and raw across the horizon. They left the waystation in silence, wrapped in cloaks and tension. Aeren scouted ahead while Lorent walked beside Seris, his usual sarcasm dulled.
"Still seeing ghosts?" he asked her quietly.
"Maybe," she replied. "But they're trying to tell us something."
Aeren returned, his voice low and urgent. "There's movement ahead. Not just wildlife."
Kael stepped forward. "How many?"
"Three riders. Armored. Banners unmarked."
Seris swore under her breath. "Scouts."
Kael's hand went to the hilt of his blade. "Or worse."
They veered off the main path, using the scorched trees and crumbled terrain to mask their trail. The group moved like shadow through ruin, the weight of danger pressing closer with every step.
"Maybe we're being followed," Lorent muttered.
Seris glanced over her shoulder. "No. Not followed. Herded."
Kael caught her eye. "You think they know who we are?"
"I think someone always does."
By nightfall, they found shelter in the hollow of a burned-out watchtower. Kael built the fire this time while Aeren kept lookout. Lorent offered dry humor as he portioned the meager rations, charred roots and hard bread.
"You think we'll get a feast when we reclaim the throne?" he asked, handing Kael a crust.
"I'll settle for soup that doesn't taste like smoke," Kael replied.
"You'll both have to earn it," Seris muttered, trying to smile.
Later, Kael and Seris took the second watch together. Their conversation turned quiet again, edged in weariness and something deeper.
"You said you saw a child," Kael whispered.
She nodded slowly. "He had your eyes."
A pause. "Do you think it was… ours? From before?"
Her throat tightened. "I don't know. I think it was a memory that never got to happen. Or maybe a warning of what we'll lose."
Kael brushed his fingers across hers. "Then we won't lose it, not this time."
A shiver ran through her, not from cold.
"Swear it," she said.
"I swear," Kael whispered. "Even if I have to burn the world to keep it."
Their hands remained clasped until the moon climbed high, the ash-colored sky watching, silent and still.
Later that night, long after Lorent's teasing had faded and Aeren's footsteps returned from a second perimeter check, the quiet thickened.
Kael stirred the dying fire with a stick, watching embers crackle like little falling stars. "You remember that song," he said suddenly, glancing at Seris.
She blinked. "Which one?"
"The one you used to hum in the training yard. When you thought no one was listening."
Seris turned toward him, eyes softening. "It was my mother's. I only ever remembered a few lines."
"Sing it," he said, voice low. "Just once."
She hesitated, then, just barely above the wind, she began to hum. The melody was fractured, distant, like something passed down in pieces.
Kael closed his eyes. "That's it. Gods, I haven't heard it in. .."
"Years," she finished for him.
Aeren, stretched out nearby, opened one eye. "That's not a war song."
"It's older than war," Seris said quietly. "It came before the fire."
Kael watched her for a long moment, then leaned back against the blackened stone. "Sing it again. If the world ends tomorrow, I want to sleep with that in my head."
She did.
For a few moments, the ruins seemed to breathe.
Then, snap.
A faint sound, too sharp to be wind, too deliberate to be accident.
Kael was on his feet instantly, hand to sword. Aeren rose in a crouch beside him, bow already drawn.
Lorent cursed under his breath. "Didn't sound like an animal."
"No," Kael said. "It didn't."
Seris reached for her blade, her voice cool. "Eyes open. We're not alone."
From the trees beyond the ruined walls, nothing moved. Nothing showed. But the tension remained, like a breath held too long.
"Maybe we were followed after all," Aeren murmured.
"Or something followed the dreams," Seris said.