The arena fell silent.
Kael stood at its center, blood still dripping from his knuckles, lightning fading from his tattoos like dying embers.
His grey eyes—sharp, ancient, unreadable—fixed on Violet.
She stepped forward, small against the enormity of the stakes and the watching crowd.
Her dyed black hair caught the wind.
Her violet eyes burned with something older than her body should carry.
"Why are you here, child?" Kael's voice was low, measured. Not hostile—curious.
Violet met his gaze without flinching. "Let's honour the call first."
Murmurs rippled through the crowd.
"A human girl?"
"She can't be serious—"
"Da'ar will break her in half—"
"SHE'S JUST A KID!"
Then—a voice cut through, young and defiant.
"HEY!" Vael pushed through the crowd, fists clenched, tail bristling. "I'LL BE THE ONE TO FIGHT DA FIRST!"
Kael's head turned slowly. His expression didn't change, but the air around him sharpened.
"Vael." His voice was quiet. Steel wrapped in silk. "Wait. And keep quiet."
Vael flinched, ears flattening. "But Da—"
"I said wait."
The boy's mouth closed. He stepped back, jaw tight, eyes fixed on Violet with something between suspicion and frustration.
Kael turned back to her. "You know the Honour Call. You know Dra-za-li. You speak of our culture as if you've lived among us." He tilted his head slightly. "How does a human child—barely old enough to hold a blade—know the ways of the Wind Tribes?"
Violet's lips curved faintly. "Everyone has one secret or two. It's better to keep them like that."
The crowd shifted uneasily.
Kael studied her for a long moment. His gaze swept from her face to her hands to the bow slung across her back.
He saw the worn leather, the careful stitching, the way she stood—not like a child, but like someone who had walked through fire and learned not to burn.
"You're not just a child, are you?" he said quietly.
Violet said nothing.
Kael exhaled slowly, his breath misting in the cold. "Very well. You invoked the Honour Call. You demanded audience with Da'ar. And now you stand before me, asking for a fight." He rolled his shoulders, bones cracking. "I will honour your words, child. But know this—I will not hold back. The Honour Call demands respect, and respect is earned through blood and trial."
He stepped forward, lowering himself slightly into a stance. "If you survive ten breaths, I will hear your purpose. If you fall before that…" His eyes glinted. "…then your secrets die with you."
Violet nodded once. "That's all I ask."
Kael's tattoos flared silver again. Lightning crackled faintly along his arms. "Then show me, little storm. Show me why you came here."
***
The gatekeeper slammed his staff into the ground. "LET THE HONOUR CALL BEGIN!"
The crowd roared.
Kael moved.
Not a charge—a predator's leap, low and fast, claws extending, lightning arcing from his fingertips. The ground beneath him exploded as he launched forward, closing the distance in a heartbeat.
Violet's eyes widened.
Her hands moved.
"(LUNAR VEIL!)"
The air shimmered.
***
Ice erupted from the ground—not sharp and violent, but soft, flowing, beautiful.
Flowers.
Hundreds of them—petals of frost and crystal, blooming across the entire arena in an instant. Each one shimmered like moonlight frozen in time, delicate and impossibly cold. They spread outward from Violet's feet like a garden growing in reverse, climbing the stakes, wrapping around Bara's unconscious form, reaching toward Kael—
—and touching him.
His leg froze mid-stride.
Then his other leg.
His arms.
His chest.
Within seconds, Kael stood completely still—a statue carved from ice and lightning, his tattoos glowing faintly beneath the frost. His eyes were the only thing that moved, wide with shock.
The crowd gasped.
"What—"
"Did she just—"
"DA'AR!"
Vael's voice cracked. "DA!"
***
Violet stood at the center of the ice garden, breathing hard.
Her legs trembled.
Her vision blurred.
Then she fell.
Her knees hit the frozen ground with a soft thud. Her hands pressed against the frost, fingers trembling. Blood dripped from her nose, staining the white petals red.
Mana exhaustion.
"Violet!" Eivor's voice, distant, panicked.
She tried to stand. Her body refused.
The ice flowers began to crack.
Slowly, piece by piece, the frost shattered. Kael's leg moved first—just a twitch. Then his arm. The lightning in his tattoos flared brighter, hotter, melting the ice from within.
Within moments, he was free.
He stood over her, breathing steady, eyes hard.
"You may be strong, child," he said quietly. "But this is your defeat."
Violet lifted her head, tears streaming down her face—not from pain, but from desperation.
"If this…" she gasped, voice breaking, "…if this is enough to make you immovable… then the opponent approaching this tribe… could do far more damage… a thousand times worse… to everyone here."
Kael's expression didn't change. "Who are you, little girl?"
Violet's hands curled into fists against the frozen ground. "The only one… who can save this tribe."
***
Silence.
The crowd held its breath.
Kael crouched slowly, bringing himself eye-level with her. His gaze was unreadable—neither angry nor kind, just… searching.
"You froze me," he said softly. "Not with brute force. Not with raw power." His eyes narrowed. "That is not normal magic. That is not Clan Manei. That is not even Blood Heir Manei."
Violet's breath hitched.
"That," Kael continued, "is something older. Something that shouldn't exist in a human child."
He reached out and touched one of the remaining ice flowers. It didn't melt under his warmth. It stayed, cold and perfect, as if frozen beyond the reach of fire.
"What are you?" he whispered.
Violet's lips trembled. "Someone… who's just don't want to see this tribe burn. Someone who doesn't want to see your son scream over your corpse. Someone who doesn't want to see the Valley of Winds turned to ash and bone."
Kael's hand stilled,"And why? Why do you care so much?"
Violet muttered, voice cracking. "It's payback a favour, to help someone who helped me once..."
***
The crowd was silent now.
Vael stood frozen, his young face pale, eyes wide.
Kari, still recovering at the edge of the arena, stared.
Bara, half-conscious, groaned but said nothing.
Kael stood slowly. He looked at Violet—this small, broken, desperate child who had frozen him with a power that defied nature—and for the first time in years, uncertainty flickered across his face.
"I hear you child, our nose is sharp, detecting lies before they leave the tongues. But your words, I don't see anything for you in this..."
Violet lifted her head, meeting his gaze despite the tears. "I don't need anything... Just protect your people."
Kael's jaw tightened.
He turned to the crowd. "Dra-za-li is over. Return to your tents. We will speak of this tomorrow."
Murmurs erupted, but no one moved.
"I SAID GO!" His voice cracked like thunder.
The crowd scattered.
***
Kael turned back to Violet. He knelt beside her, his massive hand resting gently on her shoulder.
"If what you say is true," he said quietly, "then you've earned the right to speak. But know this, child—prophecies and warnings mean nothing if you cannot stand."
He lifted her effortlessly, cradling her like she weighed nothing.
"You will rest. You will eat. You will recover your strength." His eyes burned with something fierce. "And then… you will tell me everything."
Violet's eyes fluttered closed.
The last thing she saw was Vael's face—young, confused, staring at her as if she were a ghost.
"I'll protect you," she thought. "Even if you never understand why."
***
Kael carried her toward the largest tent at the center of the camp.
Behind him, the ice flowers remained—beautiful, cold, impossible.
And in the distance, beyond the valley walls, storm clouds gathered.
The First Princess's army was coming.
But Violet had bought them time.