The sound of horns rolled through the Ashborn stronghold like thunder. Every tower, every forge, every corridor trembled with it. Kaelen felt the vibration in his teeth as he stepped out of the cavern into the torch-lit stairwell. Soldiers were already running past, their boots hammering the stone like drumbeats. The mountain had woken.
Serenya was a dark silhouette at the top of the stairs, axe slung across her back. She didn't speak as Kaelen climbed, but her eyes flicked to the brand on his arm, pulsing faintly through his sleeve like an ember. Lira followed close behind, her cloak whispering against the walls, her expression unreadable.
The council chamber had become a war-room. Maps were unrolled across the obsidian table, pins marking the passes and ridges of the Ashborn range. Runners carried reports back and forth, their faces pale with exhaustion.
"The Hollow Crown has moved faster than we thought," a scarred captain said, pointing to a cluster of red stones on the map. "Their vanguard is already within the northern valleys. If they reach the Iron Spire Pass we'll be cut off."
Serenya planted her gauntleted hands on the table. "We march tonight. Meet them in the pass before they dig in."
"That's suicide," Lira said softly, but every word landed like a hammer. "They want us in the open. We should fortify the stronghold and bleed them when they come to us."
Kaelen stood at the edge of the table, the murmur of officers fading until the room was silent. Dozens of eyes turned to him. They weren't just looking at a shard-bearer anymore. They were looking at someone they expected to lead.
He drew a slow breath, steadying the pulse of the brand beneath his skin. "If we rush, we die in the valleys. If we hide, we lose the passes. We need to do both. Serenya, take your veterans and fortify Iron Spire. Hold it long enough for us to trap their vanguard. Lira, prepare the southern gates with fire wards and hidden paths. If they break through, we draw them into the mountain."
A low murmur ran through the room. Orders, not suggestions. It felt strange in Kaelen's mouth, but right.
Serenya's jaw tightened. For a heartbeat Kaelen thought she would refuse. Then she gave a short, sharp nod. "Very well. But if you fall behind your walls, don't expect me to come back for you."
Lira inclined her head, silver eyes on Kaelen. "And what will you do?"
Kaelen looked down at his branded arm. "I'll be the bait. They came for me. Let's make them believe they're winning."
No one spoke for a moment. Then the scarred captain bowed his head. "As you command."
Later, in the training yard, the night wind hissed over racks of weapons. Soldiers drilled in tight formations, sweat steaming off their skin despite the cold. Kaelen walked among them, hearing snatches of their whispers.
"…his shadow moved on its own…"
"…they say he went into the forbidden cavern…"
"…Serenya trusts him now…"
A boy barely older than Kaelen had been when he took the shard straightened as Kaelen passed, knuckles white on his spear. "Sir," he blurted, "is it true? You… spoke with it?"
Kaelen met his eyes. "I listened. That's different." He placed a hand on the boy's shoulder. "Courage isn't about power. It's about not letting it choose for you."
The boy nodded quickly, but Kaelen could feel the fear trembling under his skin. It was the same fear he himself carried.
Back in the council chamber, Lira met him alone. "There's more," she said quietly, handing him a strip of parchment. "Intercepted on the western slope. Our scouts think someone in the stronghold sent it out."
The parchment was covered in jagged runes, black wax sealing the top. But one word had been scrawled across it in common tongue:
Kaelen.
His fingers tightened on the scroll. "A traitor."
"Or a lure," Lira said. "Either way, someone is feeding the Hollow Crown information about you. About the shard."
The brand on his arm throbbed in answer, as if aware of the threat. He looked up at Lira. "Find them. Quietly. If the soldiers start suspecting each other now, we'll tear ourselves apart before the Crown even arrives."
Her silver eyes softened. "And you? What will you do?"
Kaelen looked toward the window slit where the wind carried the faint sound of horns. He could almost see the enemy banners on the horizon. "I'll stand where they expect me to stand. And when they come for me, I'll show them what it means to fight a shadow that chooses its own path."
Near midnight, a commotion rose at the southern gates. Kaelen and Lira reached the courtyard as two guards dragged a hooded figure into the torchlight. The prisoner's hands were bound with iron chain, but his posture was unnervingly calm. A sealed black scroll hung from a cord around his neck, the wax stamped with the Hollow Crown's sigil.
Kaelen stepped closer. "Who sent you?"
The man raised his head. His eyes were completely black, reflecting the torches without light. When he spoke, his voice was a whisper that crawled across stone and skin alike.
"I bring a message," he said, "from the Crown to the shard-bearer."
Kaelen's hand drifted to his branded arm as the prisoner smiled faintly. "It begins with your name."