Five years ago, the world still pretended to be whole.
Kaelen Virelth and Serenya Valir stood on the rooftop garden of the Alenthra Citadel, the wind heavy with jasmine and the scent of old parchment from the library below.
They were younger, unscarred, full of arguments and hope.
It was the night before Kaelen defected.
"You always look at the stars like they owe you something," Serenya said, her fingers brushing against the stone railing, her hair wrapped in the indigo sash of the Priesthood.
"They do," Kaelen replied. "They've seen everything. And said nothing."
"You talk like they can hear."
"Maybe they can. Maybe they've just stopped listening."
The silence that followed wasn't tense. It was fragile — as if it would shatter if touched too hard.
Serenya finally broke it. "The Dominion isn't perfect. But it holds the world together."
"No. It cages it," Kaelen said, turning to face her fully. "They burn histories, Serenya. Rewrite them. They teach children that fire was a gift from gods, when it was a weapon used to silence."
"It was also used to rebuild," she replied, voice tightening.
He stepped closer. "You don't rebuild a future by worshiping a past soaked in ash."
Lightning flickered far to the east. A distant storm gathering over the sea.
She looked at him then — really looked.
"You're leaving."
"Yes."
"Where?"
"Where the truth still breathes," Kaelen said. "With the ones your temple calls heretics."
"You'll be hunted."
"I already am."
Serenya swallowed hard. "Then why come here?"
Kaelen hesitated. The anger in him was real — but beneath it, something else burned brighter.
"I wanted to give you a choice."
"To follow you?"
"To not stop me."
She stepped back.
"You want me to abandon my faith."
"I want you to remember your heart came before your robes."
That cut deeper than it should have.
"You think this is easy?" she snapped. "You think I haven't questioned it every day? That I don't see the cracks? But what you're doing—it's war."
"It's justice."
"It's blood."
They stared at each other — inches apart, miles away.
Finally, Kaelen softened. "If I survive, I'll find the Vault. I'll see it with my own eyes."
Serenya's voice was barely a whisper. "And if you do?"
"Then I'll burn it down. So no one can use it again."
Her eyes widened. "Even if that means destroying what's left of the gods?"
"Yes."
She reached up — not to strike, not to stop — but to hold his face in her hands, once more, for the last time.
"You're not the fire, Kaelen. You're the storm it brings."
They kissed once — not for comfort, not for forgiveness.
But for memory.
For what they might never be again.
That night, Kaelen vanished from Alenthra.
And Serenya, in the hollow ache of his absence, chose silence.
Until now.