Kael did not kneel.
The war council chamber of the Sun Dominion was built to make men feel small — a circular hall of white stone and rising pillars carved with scenes of conquest. Light poured from the open oculus above, spilling down like divine approval.
Kael stood at the center table, gauntlets resting on polished marble.
Around him sat generals, ministers, and priests of the Solar Rite.
At the head of the chamber, upon the elevated throne of carved ivory and gold, sat Emperor Alaric Varos.
Kael's father had once filled that seat.
Alaric wore it differently.
Where his brother had ruled with heat, Alaric ruled with pressure.
"Reports confirm the black surge," the High Priest said, voice thin and dry. "It was not Solar."
Kael's gaze did not move.
"No," he said. "It was not."
Murmurs rippled around the chamber.
Eclipse was a word none of them wanted spoken.
Alaric leaned forward slightly.
"You withdrew," the emperor said.
"I secured the ridge."
"You withdrew."
Kael finally looked up.
"There was a third force present."
"And?"
"It did not feel like shadow."
Silence.
The High Priest's fingers tightened around his sun-shaped medallion.
"There are old texts," the priest began carefully, "that speak of fusion anomalies—"
"We are not discussing fairy tales," General Torvek cut in.
Kael's voice remained calm.
"It disrupted Solar marks. Even mine."
That silenced the room.
Alaric's gaze sharpened.
"Yours?"
"Yes."
A lie would have been easier.
But Kael did not lie in council.
The emperor leaned back slowly.
"Then escalation is no longer sustainable."
Kael didn't respond.
He already knew what was coming.
A servant entered, bowed deeply, and delivered a sealed scroll bearing the obsidian sigil of the Moon Court.
The chamber tightened.
Alaric gestured.
"Read it."
The High Priest broke the seal.
His eyes scanned.
His expression changed.
Subtly.
Then more visibly.
"They propose a Binding," he said.
The word echoed.
Kael did not blink.
"Terms?" Alaric asked.
"A life-bond between blood representatives of both kingdoms. Mutual essence entwinement to prevent further military aggression."
Kael's jaw flexed once.
"Hostages," General Torvek muttered.
"Insurance," corrected the priest.
Alaric's gaze shifted slowly to Kael.
"They request you."
The chamber went very still.
Kael did not move.
He did not look surprised.
But something in the air around him changed — heat rising slightly, the faint shimmer of Solar essence responding to internal pressure.
"And their representative?" Kael asked.
"The daughter of Chancellor Vaelor."
Kael's eyes narrowed slightly.
"Selwyn."
"Yes."
He had heard of her.
Shadow prodigy.
Rare stability.
Rumored instability.
Some said her shadow moved before she did.
Others said she could weave memory itself.
Kael dismissed rumors.
But he did not dismiss capability.
"This is weakness," Torvek said sharply. "We have momentum."
"No," Kael said quietly.
All eyes turned to him.
"We have attrition."
He looked to the High Priest.
"White flame has begun appearing in lower ranks."
A ripple of alarm.
"That is not confirmed—" the priest began.
"It is," Kael said.
He met Alaric's gaze directly.
"If Solar essence continues escalating emotionally, we will lose control across the ranks within a year."
Silence.
The emperor studied him carefully.
"You speak as if this concerns you personally."
Kael held his gaze.
"It does."
A long pause.
Alaric descended from the throne platform slowly, robes whispering.
He stopped an arm's length from Kael.
"Binding yourself to shadow is no small sacrifice."
Kael's expression did not change.
"I am aware."
"You will share pain."
"Yes."
"You will share vulnerability."
A faint flicker in Kael's eyes.
"Yes."
"If she dies," Alaric said softly, "you die."
The chamber felt suddenly smaller.
Kael's voice did not waver.
"Then she will not die."
A few ministers exchanged uneasy glances.
Alaric studied him for several long seconds.
"Do you hate them?" the emperor asked.
The question was not political.
It was personal.
Kael thought of Rhyset Vale.
Of charred armor fused to bone.
Of the boy who dropped his weapon.
Of the black surge splitting the sky.
"I hate waste," Kael replied.
Alaric's mouth curved faintly.
"Good."
He stepped back.
"Then you will accept."
Torvek stood abruptly. "Your Majesty—"
"We do not refuse leverage over the Moon Court's strongest shadow," Alaric said coolly.
Kael remained still.
Inside, however—
Heat coiled.
Not rage.
Something more controlled.
Strategic.
Binding to the daughter of Vaelor.
It would place him inside the Moon Court's bloodstream.
Their politics.
Their weaknesses.
Their secrets.
But it would also place her inside him.
He did not like that variable.
The High Priest cleared his throat.
"The ritual will require full essence exposure. No barriers. No containment."
Kael's mind immediately assessed risk.
Solar essence in proximity to Umbral core.
If she lost control—
If he did—
The blast radius could level neutral ground.
"I will require preparation time," Kael said.
"Three weeks," the priest confirmed.
Alaric's eyes hardened.
"There is one more condition."
Kael waited.
"If either of you attempts to sabotage the bond, the ritual backlash will kill you both instantly."
A small murmur spread.
Kael's expression did not shift.
"Understood."
The emperor studied him carefully.
"Do you fear her?"
The question was quiet.
Measured.
Kael's answer was immediate.
"No."
That, at least, was true.
He did not fear shadow.
He feared instability.
He feared loss of control.
He feared white flame answering too quickly.
But he did not fear her.
Not yet.
Alaric turned back toward the throne.
"It is decided. Preparations begin immediately."
The council began to disperse.
Torvek approached Kael quietly.
"This is a gamble."
"Yes."
"Shadow is treacherous."
"So is fire."
Torvek hesitated.
"And if she tries to manipulate you?"
Kael's gaze turned toward the open oculus above — the blazing sun overhead.
"Then she will learn," he said evenly, "that I do not burn easily."
He left the chamber without further word.
Outside, the training grounds shimmered with afternoon heat.
Solar initiates practiced controlled flame arcs under supervision.
Kael walked directly into the center of the field.
"Clear it," he ordered.
The recruits obeyed instantly.
He removed his gauntlets.
Rolled his shoulders once.
Then closed his eyes.
He inhaled.
He pictured the black surge splitting the sky.
He pictured the Moon Court's towers.
He pictured silver-veined skin and shadow moving independently.
He exhaled.
Flame erupted around him.
Not outward.
Inward.
He forced it tighter.
Denser.
Hotter.
White flickered at the edges.
The air screamed as temperature spiked.
Observers shielded their faces.
Kael held it there.
Balancing on that razor edge.
White flame pressed against his control, whispering temptation.
Surrender.
Just a little more.
He did not.
He compressed it further.
Forced gold back into dominance.
When he released it, the fire dissipated in a controlled burst.
No explosion.
No collateral damage.
Just heat rolling across stone.
He opened his eyes.
The recruits stared at him with a mixture of awe and fear.
Good.
Fear maintained order.
But the white had answered too easily again.
Three weeks.
He would bind himself to shadow in three weeks.
He would feel her essence.
Her calm.
Her restraint.
Her instability.
And she would feel his.
If she tried to pull at his control—
If she tested him—
He would not break.
He would not burn uncontrolled.
He would not let shadow dictate his flame.
Across the continent, at that exact moment, Lyra stood in a darkened chamber practicing severance drills — training herself to detach emotionally from incoming Solar contact.
Neither of them understood yet—
The ritual would not simply test control.
It would amplify whatever they hid.
And what Kael hid most carefully—
Was not rage.
It was grief.