They said the Kael estate was built on dragon bones.That under the polished marble floors and obsidian pillars, something older than the family's wealth slept, whispering through cracks only the cursed could hear.
Karn Kael had always heard it.And tonight, as he stood at the gates one last time, the whispers had become impossible to ignore.
"Leaving again?"
The voice cut through the dying light of dusk, sharp as summer thunder.Karn turned. His brother, Rayan Kael, leaned against the black sedan parked by the drive, suit jacket draped over one shoulder, hair slicked back, a faint shimmer of lightning dancing across his knuckles.
The city called him an S‑Rank hunter, the Lightning Prince of Ashvale.To Karn, he'd always been just Rayan — older by three years, too perfect to reach, too stubborn to leave.
"Yeah," Karn murmured, voice rough from silence and sleepless nights."Just need to breathe, Ray."
Rayan's eyes narrowed, the way they always did when he tasted something he couldn't fight.
"Breathe? Or run?"
Karn forced a thin smile. "Does it matter?"
Behind them, the mansion windows glowed gold, catching the last of the sun.Somewhere inside, Mira Kael would be watching.His sister, shadows gathering at her feet like loyal hounds. She wouldn't come out; she never did when they fought.But he knew she'd stand by the window until he was gone, mouth pressed tight, eyes dark as night without stars.
"You're family, Karn."Rayan's voice dropped, softer than Karn had heard in years."Stay. Even if you're... weaker. Mira doesn't care. I don't care."
Karn's gaze drifted to the city skyline — towers crowned in neon, airships drifting like silent whales.The Kael crest — a sun split by a scar — shimmered on banners along the drive.
"That's the problem, Ray," he whispered."I care."
They stood in silence then:The prodigy older brother, born with power crackling in his veins.The unawakened second son, born with nothing but a curse he couldn't name.
The night wind stirred Karn's wolf‑cut hair, lifted the white fabric of his banyan. He smelled rain, oil, and the cold iron tang of mana gates blooming in distant streets.
"If you walk out," Rayan said quietly, "don't expect father to call you back."
"I won't," Karn replied.He turned to leave.
"But if you fall…" Rayan's voice cracked, barely. "Who will catch you, little brother?"
Karn paused, hand on the iron gate.The scar on the back of his neck burned hot, like a brand remembering something older than this life.
No one ever caught me, Ray.
He didn't say it. Instead, he stepped into the city, the shadows of Ashvale swallowing him whole.
Far behind, in a window framed by violet curtains, Mira Kael pressed her hand to the glass, lips moving in a silent prayer the family's gods had long stopped answering.
The street smelled of diesel, rain, and something deeper — old blood, old oaths.Karn pulled his hood up, breath fogging in the night air.
And the whispers inside his scar grew louder.
"You were born to burn, Karn Kael," they hissed.
"Not to kneel."