Years passed, and Rael grew stronger. At fourteen, he had the stance of a swordsman, the spark of a mage, and the heart of someone who still believed in hope.
But Thorne grew weaker.
One day, Rael found him coughing blood into a cloth. The old warrior laughed it off, but they both knew.
On a rain-soaked morning, Thorne lay in bed, Martha at his side. Rael watched with silent dread.
"If I wasn't such a fool back then…" Thorne whispered.
Martha's voice cracked, tears welling in her eyes. "We all were, Thorne. But you gave him a chance to grow. That's more than most ever get."
Thorne turned to Rael, eyes misty. "Go. My almirah. There's a box. Bring it."
Rael obeyed.
While he was gone, Martha whispered, "Are you sure?"
Thorne nodded. "He deserves the truth. Even if it breaks him."
Inside the box was a note. A memory. And a necklace — scorched, but still glowing faintly with runes.
Rael returned, eyes wide. Thorne took his hand.
"You are no ordinary boy, Rael. You are the son of Kaelen Drakenhart, a hero… and Elira of the Starborn, a woman of mystery and magic."
Rael froze.
Thorne continued. "Your parents died protecting something. A secret Malrik hunted — the Ember Sigil. He destroyed your village to get it."
Tears welled in Rael's eyes.
"I promised them I'd protect you. Forgive me for hiding the truth."
With those final words, Thorne passed.