After the night rest, in the morning Kelvin sat on the edge of his bed, the leather-bound journal from Master Kaelus was open on his laps.
The words within the tales of tamers who had faced the Veil, swam before his tired eyes, each line was a warning and a promise.
"The Veil is a tear, a hunger. It thrives on fear and grows with every loss." The phrase was quoted by Lyra just weeks ago which lingered like a shadow in Kelvin's mind, it weighd heavier now in the quiet of morning.
Kelvin traced the pendant around his neck, the flame-carved rune was warm against his skin which was a reminder of their triumph in the Shadowfen Marshes.
His left arm which has been freed from bandages, bore faint scars from the zombie's claw, a silent testament to their hard-won victory.
Xerion the end tyrant sprawled across the floor, his fiery scale flickering softly with a low rumble vibrating through the room as he sensed his tamer's unease.
