The stars that night felt heavier, as if they knew what was coming.
Elara stood alone on the watchtower ruins, the wind tugging at her cloak. Below, the others slept—except for Evelyn, who sat near the fire, her eyes glowing faintly from leftover magic.
Kael had healed enough to walk again, but the wound on his head still pulsed. Elara checked it earlier with trembling hands, pretending not to care too much. But he knew.
"I've seen that look before," Kael said softly, approaching her.
Elara turned. "What look?"
"The one you get before you break something to keep yourself from feeling too much."
She didn't answer.
He stepped closer. "You don't have to push me away. Not now. Not after everything."
"I know," she whispered. "That's what makes this harder."
She looked up at him, pain swimming in her eyes. "Kael… what if we don't make it to the end?"
"Then we make it count before the end," he said, cupping her face.
She closed her eyes, leaning into his touch. The cold wind made her cheeks sting, but his hand was warm, grounding her.
She wanted to stay there forever.
But fate had other plans.
Down in the forest, Evelyn's vision struck without warning.
She collapsed, her hands clutching her skull as magic surged like wildfire through her veins.
This time, she didn't see fire or death.
She saw betrayal.
Lucien.
Standing beside Thorne.
Laughing.
She gasped, trying to shake the vision off—but it clung like oil.
Lucien rushed over. "Evelyn? What is it? What did you see?"
She stared at him, breathless. "Tell me you haven't been sending messages."
Lucien's eyes widened. "What?"
"Tell me you haven't been feeding Thorne our locations," she demanded, magic pulsing dangerously from her fingertips.
His expression shifted—just slightly. That was enough.
Elara and Kael ran over, hearing the commotion.
"What's going on?" Elara asked.
"He's been working with Thorne," Evelyn said, pointing at Lucien. "I saw it."
Lucien's face fell, then hardened. "You don't understand. I didn't have a choice."
"You always have a choice," Kael growled.
Lucien stepped back. "He had my sister. He said if I didn't give him what he needed… she'd die."
Silence fell.
Elara's voice was ice. "So you led him to us?"
"I only sent vague positions!" Lucien snapped. "Never enough to kill you—just enough to buy time. I thought I could fix it before—"
"Before what?" Kael snarled. "Before we all burned?"
Lucien dropped to his knees. "I'm sorry."
Evelyn's face cracked. "Sorry doesn't save the people who already died."
Elara's fists clenched. Her past came rushing back—her parents, the betrayal that had started her whole spiral. And now, someone else she trusted had done the same.
Kael saw her trembling and gently touched her shoulder. "Elara…"
"I'm fine," she said, but her voice broke.
She turned away, eyes wet. "He stays alive… for now. We might still need him."
Kael nodded reluctantly.
Lucien remained on his knees as the group turned their backs.
That night, no one slept.
And somewhere deep in the darkness, Thorne smiled.
The next morning, the group marched toward the sacred temple of Maeroth—where the second gate would open. The landscape turned harsher, stone replacing forest, the air thinner with every step.
Kael walked beside Elara, silent but present. Every now and then, his fingers brushed hers, grounding her when she looked too far lost in her head.
Evelyn, her hands wrapped in glowing cloth, kept her distance from Lucien, though he made no move to approach.
"I didn't want to betray you," Lucien muttered once. "I just… didn't know how to be strong without hurting someone."
Evelyn said nothing.
Elara looked back at him once.
Just once.
And in her eyes, he saw all the weight of someone who had been betrayed before… and survived.
As they reached the cliffs overlooking Maeroth, the wind picked up. Clouds gathered in the distance—too fast, too dark.
Kael narrowed his eyes. "It's starting."
Elara stepped forward, her heart heavy but steady.
"Then let it come."