POV: Kael Ryuu
The wind screamed like a dying bird as Veyna's skyship vanished into the clouds.
Kael Ryuu stood at the cliff's edge, watching the silhouette of the vessel until even its contrail dissolved into skyfire. The Valemont Isles sprawled below, jagged peaks rising like a sea of broken swords. Mist clung to the crags, weaving in and out of the ruins like ghostly threads.
He was alone.
For the first time in months, there were no instructors barking orders, no imperial heralds announcing his name. Veyna and Arien had both clasped forearms with him before leaving—tight grips, few words. Arien had muttered something about trusting his instincts. Veyna had given him a folded letter from Senn.
Kael hadn't read it yet. It burned in his satchel like a live coal.
He pulled up his hood, adjusted the strap of Kurozan's sheathe across his back, and began the descent.
---
The path twisted downward through narrow ridges and crumbling bridges. Birds with mirrored wings flitted through the skies above. Runes etched into stone pulsed faintly beneath his boots—remnants of a forgotten people.
Two days passed. Kael rationed his food, hunted small creatures when he had to, and listened—to the wind, to the silence, and to Kurozan.
The sword was growing louder.
"Their movements... mimic. Their rage... empty. Learn. Adapt. Perfect."
Kael had started to understand that Tenebris Kenjutsu was not just about shadow techniques—it was about perception, intuition, and improvisation. Kurozan seemed to respond more when he observed, when he didn't react out of emotion but instead out of clarity.
On the third evening, a flicker of motion on the trail ahead caught his attention.
Kael froze, slipping behind a cluster of jagged stones.
Five figures stalked across the path below—cloaked in leathers, faces hidden by iron masks. Their movements were deliberate, the kind of grace that only came from professional killers.
Bounty hunters.
Kael didn't know if they were from the Obsidian Circle, the Wraithborn cultists, or some kingdom loyalist with a grudge. It didn't matter.
He watched them circle a figure crouched near a broken shrine—one lone man, unmoving even as the bounty hunters raised crossbows.
Then everything exploded.
---
POV: Unknown Stranger (Kitsune)
The first bolt fired never made it. A flash of movement, and the man was standing, twin sabers drawn, his body flickering with unnatural speed.
Two bounty hunters dropped instantly, throats cut in one smooth motion. The others scattered.
Kael burst from his hiding spot, blade drawn.
Kurozan thrummed. "Yes. Learn."
He intercepted a fleeing enemy, parrying a wild slash, then using the man's momentum against him to deliver a mirrored blow—almost identical to the stranger's earlier technique.
It worked. The bounty hunter slumped, gurgling.
When the dust cleared, only Kael and the stranger remained. The man wiped his blades clean with deliberate precision, eyes narrowed beneath a soot-streaked hood.
"Nice moves," he said. His voice was like sandpaper and smoke. "Didn't think anyone else was crazy enough to charge a firing line solo."
Kael lowered Kurozan. "Wasn't planning to... until I saw you do it first."
The man chuckled. "Name's Kitsune. And you?"
Kael hesitated, then replied, "Kael."
Kitsune tilted his head. "That Kael? Crestless wonder of the Empire?"
Kael frowned. "Not crestless anymore."
"Didn't think so." Kitsune sheathed his blades. "Those were Obsidian-affiliated. They've been hunting anyone who stands in their way lately. You just painted a target on your back by helping me."
Kael looked at the dead. "I've had one for a while now."
Kitsune nodded with something like approval. "Then maybe you're the kind of company I need."
---
They camped in the ruins that night—beneath the skeleton of an old watchtower. The fire flickered against the scarred cliff wall, casting long shadows.
Kitsune took off his cloak. The firelight revealed the deep burns and branded marks across his arms and back. Some were ceremonial. Others... not.
Kael didn't ask.
Instead, he said, "Why were they after you?"
Kitsune sipped from a flask. "I used to be part of a Flame Temple. One of their warrior-monks. Got burned when I started questioning their deals with the Obsidian Circle. Walked away. They sent killers after me."
Kael nodded slowly. "So you fight alone now?"
"Sometimes," Kitsune said. "But every fire needs a spark. And every spark needs air."
Kael glanced at Kurozan, then at the flame. "I'm headed for the Obsidian Tower."
"Of course you are," Kitsune muttered with a laugh. "Fine. I'll walk with you until my path turns."
Kael smiled faintly. "You're not afraid I'll slow you down?"
"I'm afraid you'll get yourself killed before I can see what that blade of yours really does," Kitsune replied. "That sword... it's not normal."
Kael looked at him. "Neither am I."
---
Later That Night
Kael finally opened the letter from Senn.
> Kael,
If you're reading this, then Veyna and Arien have done their part. You're on your own now—but you were never truly alone.
Keep your guard up. The deeper you go, the more the world will try to break you. But don't stop.
I've always believed you were born for greater things than this world.
Now go prove me right.
—Senn
Kael folded the letter and tucked it back into his satchel. The flames crackled beside him.
Kitsune stirred in his bedroll. "Couldn't sleep?"
Kael looked out into the darkness. "Just thinking."
"Don't think too long," Kitsune murmured. "Tomorrow, we head into the Ashglass Canyons. That place eats thinkers."
Kael stared into the flame.
Tomorrow. One step closer to the Tower. One step deeper into fate.