The sun had not yet pierced the clouds when Rei stirred.
The cave was cold — not bitter, but ancient. A hollow forgotten by time, tucked beneath the frost-bitten cliffs of the Frostroot Ridge. Its mouth was hidden behind twisted roots, moss-choked stone, and a veil of morning mist so thick it tasted like sleep.
Inside, the world was quiet save for the slow crackle of fire.
The hearth was shallow, barely more than a ring of stones and faint embers, but it held back the chill. Moss softened the ground. A worn cloak had been drawn over Rei's shoulders. He moved beneath it now, sluggish, like a man returning from somewhere far beyond fever or dream.
His limbs ached. The bruises were old — yellowing at the edges, buried beneath bandages dark with dried sap and sweat. His breath still rasped. Shallow. But the sharp pull of the Void — the tearing sensation behind his ribs — had faded.
Not vanished.Just retreated.Like a beast watching from behind trees.
He blinked the world back into shape.
Across the fire, Kaia sat with her back to the stone wall, legs folded beneath her like a sentinel of ice and ash. She was sharpening one of her twin bone knives, the rhythm slow, careful. Sparks leapt between blade and whetstone, catching briefly in the silver-white strands of her hair.
Her golden eyes flicked toward him — not with surprise, but quiet observation. Cautious. Measuring.
"You're awake," she said. Her voice was flat, but not unkind. She didn't stop sharpening.
Rei swallowed, throat dry. The warmth of the fire reached him now, brushing the hollow of his cheeks. His reflection flickered in her blade — violet eyes dulled by exhaustion, lean cheeks sunken from strain, and beneath the torn linen of his tunic…
…a faint, glowing mark.Four-pointed. Burning just beneath the skin.
"…Where are we?" he asked, voice rough like gravel.
Kaia didn't glance up. "Smuggler's cave. Old tunnels under the Ridge. Forgotten paths between here and Thornevale. Safe, for now."
He nodded slowly, running a hand through his sweat-damp hair. His muscles complained. His body still bore the echoes of what had chased them — shadows born from the Fracture. They hadn't feared him. They had hungered for him.
Silence settled between them. Not tense — but thick. Like snow fallen after grief.
Kaia's knife paused. She glanced at him sideways.
"You nearly got us killed," she murmured.
Rei gave a tired smile. "Then thanks… for not letting me."
She looked away. The knife resumed its slow rasp.
Another silence passed.
"…Why did you?" he asked. "Why not leave me behind?"
Kaia didn't answer immediately. She finished her sharpening in deliberate strokes, then set the blade aside and flexed her hands — scarred knuckles catching the firelight.
"When the darkness came," she said, "You didn't run."
Rei blinked. She spoke low — almost absently — like someone remembering something they hadn't meant to.
"You held it. Like it belonged to you."Her gaze returned to him. Firm. Fierce."I've seen warriors break for less. You didn't."
She rose, brushing ash from her palms. The firelight caught the edge of shoulder, the faded brand still etched beneath skin. Kaia moved like something forged in survival — not grace, not beauty — just will.
"Come on," she said. "The world's waking up. And it's already started hunting."
Rei didn't reply. He just watched her — the way she spoke, the way she moved, the way she never once asked for pity. The fire hissed quietly between them.
And within him...a thread.Not hope. Not yet.But something that might grow into it.
**
Elsewhere…
High above the Frostroot, where the ridge broke against sky, a white-cloaked figure knelt beside a patch of disturbed snow. A fire had been there — now cold.
His gloved fingers hovered over a faint violet ember, still warm. His eyes — pale as frost — narrowed.
"Confirmed," he whispered.
Behind him, another emerged — robed in the sigils of the Order.
"Shall I inform the Sanctum?" the second asked.
The first stood. He turned eastward, toward the rising sun.
"No," he said. His voice was ice. Calm. Precise."Let the Riftborn burn a little brighter."
He began walking, boots silent on snow.
"Stars," he murmured, "are easier to shoot… when they shine."