That night, sleep came in pieces.
Elaria lay beneath a twisted willow, the red moon above casting strange patterns across the valley ruins. She dreamed of a child's voice, whispering in a song she'd never heard but somehow knew.
"Moonlight born, shadow kissed… one shall rise from all that's missed…"
She jolted awake.
Kael was gone.
Panic struck her chest like ice—but then she heard a whisper.
Not Kael's.
A boy stood at the edge of the clearing. He looked like Kael, but younger—barefoot, pale, with silver eyes wide with sorrow.
"Who are you?" Elaria asked.
"I'm what he lost," the boy said. "What the curse took from him."
Elaria rose slowly. "You're… part of him?"
The boy nodded. "His heart broke the day you were taken. The curse didn't just bind you—it shattered pieces of him. I'm one of them."
He stepped closer, eyes filled with warning.
"If you keep going, he'll have to face every part of himself he buried to survive. You think you're ready. But is he?"
Before she could answer, the boy faded into mist.
Kael returned moments later, sword drawn, sensing the strange shift in the air.
"You saw something," he said.
Elaria looked at him—really looked—and now she saw the weight behind his silence. The scars not on his skin, but deeper.
"I saw what you lost," she whispered.
Kael's jaw tightened, but he said nothing.
She touched his hand.
"You're not alone anymore."
For the first time, Kael didn't pull away.
And neither did the shadows.