Kael walked away from Seren's grave with a new sense of purpose. Maybe his goal was brash, even reckless—but if he didn't pursue it, who would? If his life could save millions, then it was a price he was willing to pay.
The sunlight warmed his pale skin as he trudged back toward the colony. For the first time since Seren's death, he felt a glimmer of peace. The way the light fell on his face almost felt like Seren smiling down on him from the heavens.
When Kael arrived, it was as though nothing had changed. The colonists went about their lives, unaware of the tragedy that had struck just a day before. Lira's powers had worked—she had erased their memories of Seren. Painful as it was, Kael understood: preserving Seren's legacy now rested on his shoulders. In a strange way, not taking away his memory of Seren was the greatest gift Lira could have given him.
Inside Seren's house, the silence was deafening. Her presence was gone, but her spirit lingered in every creaking floorboard and weathered chair. Though words were forbidden in Vowenrealm, Seren had spoken to Kael all the same—through gestures, glances, and care.
Kael searched her room, hoping to find anything useful for the journey ahead. In a wooden chest beneath her bed, he found rations, old bandages, and, most notably, a steel sword. Its hilt was engraved with her name. Weapons were forbidden for colonists, especially personalized ones. Only those chosen by the Nine had the right to names. But here, in this quiet rebellion of a colony, they had named one another. Seren had given him his name—Kael.
He held the blade, unsure how to wield it but knowing he would learn. Strapped to his belt, it felt like a promise.
Also in the chest was a hand-drawn map of Vowenrealm and its outer regions. One location was circled in dark ink: The Forbidden Ruins, far to the south. Perhaps it was a clue left for him. Perhaps it was fate.
Kael filled a larger pack with supplies—rations, bandages, tools—and slung it over his shoulder. He glanced around the house once more, etching every detail into memory. He might lose these recollections one day, burned away by his power, but for now, they remained his.
He set off on foot through lush, untouched pastures. No patrols. No enforcers. Just Kael and the breeze. The ruins weren't far, according to the map, but still far enough that he needed rest. As dusk painted the sky, he set up a small camp beneath a leafy canopy in the woods.
He lay beneath a tree, his bag as a pillow. Sleep came reluctantly, and when it did, so did the nightmares.
Kael relived Seren's death in vivid horror—her scream, her flame-lit silhouette, the cruel eyes of Brother Varn. Sweat poured from his face as the vision twisted. Varn turned from the flames, walking toward him.
"I knew you were the Whisperer all along," the man sneered.
Varn raised his sword—and then—
"Kael, wake up," came a voice. Soft, familiar.
"Wake up."
Kael bolted upright, sword drawn. His blurred vision focused, revealing Lira standing just beyond his blade.
He lowered the weapon at once, startled and confused.
"I didn't mean to scare you," Lira said, her tone apologetic.
She wasn't dressed in her usual officer attire. Instead, she wore a tattered brown robe—simple, like those of the colonists. The only thing that set her apart was her beauty: golden-brown eyes, flawless skin, and a quiet sorrow in her gaze.
Kael remained silent, unsure if speaking was safe.
"It's okay," Lira said gently, as if reading his mind. "No one's around. You can talk."
Hesitantly, Kael asked, "Why are you here, Lira?"
She gave a nervous laugh. "I usually take walks outside the capital now and then."
Kael arched a brow. "This far from the capital? You're not a very good liar."
"Okay," she admitted, "maybe you caught me."
She glanced away, then looked back. "Will you walk with me?"
He nodded. He wasn't sure if it was trust or fascination that moved his legs, but he followed her. In a world where silence reigned, her voice was color in a grey sky.
As they walked, Lira spoke more than he expected. About the capital's towering walls, its population squeezed into every crevice. About the technological marvels of the Nine—and the misery they bred.
She spoke of her childhood, of endless training, of growing up without parents. Of being chosen. Of erasing memories.
Kael didn't speak often. He never had. Seren had taught him restraint, and besides, his words had weight—too much weight.
Eventually, they reached a crest that overlooked the Forbidden Ruins.
Lira stopped. "Okay… I have a confession. I was heading to the ruins all along."
Kael blinked. "Why?"
She hesitated. "Because I don't believe in the Nine. Not anymore. I used to think I was serving order, but… the day I erased a child's memory of her mother, I knew I couldn't keep doing it."
Kael stood silent.
"I hate what I've done. I hate myself for helping them. And I… I especially hate—"
The thunder of hooves cut her off.
Twelve officers, clad in black and bearing the Nine's insignia, barreled toward them.
"Kael, run!" Lira shouted.
He didn't move. Running wouldn't change anything. They'd seen Lira. She'd be executed—or worse.
As the horses skidded to a halt, one massive officer dismounted. He wore a gleaming black coat, a blade across his back. Kael saw the "9" stitched into his chest and felt his rage surge.
"Well, well," the officer sneered. "Sister Lira, speaking with a peasant? Let me guess—he spoke back?"
Before Lira could answer, Kael stepped forward.
"So what if I did, slime?"
Lira blinked in shock. Kael had always been quiet—measured.
The officer laughed. "Who do you think you are?"
Kael's voice was calm but deadly: "I am your reckoning. The last face you'll ever see."
The officer spit in Kael's face, drawing his sword. "Then I'll enjoy this."
Kael closed his eyes and whispered: "Kill your men."
The world held its breath.
The officer turned, lips curled in an unnatural grin, and drew his blade.
Chaos erupted.
The squad never stood a chance. One by one, the officer—now Kael's puppet—slaughtered his comrades. Blood sprayed the grass. Screams pierced the forest.
When only the hulking man remained, Kael said, "Stand still and answer my questions."
The man froze.
"What's your name and rank?"
"Officer Brunts. Fourth Lieutenant under Brother Varn."
"Do you enjoy killing?"
Brunts answered without hesitation. "It's what I live for."
"Bad answer. Kill yourself. Slowly."
Brunts obeyed. He drew a dagger and carved deep wounds down both arms. Blood pooled at his feet.
Kael watched in silence as the officer collapsed. Pain ripped through Kael's skull—the cost of using his voice. A memory faded, burned away.
Lira stood frozen, her eyes wide. "You… you're the Whisperer."
Kael turned to her. "Lira, I won't hurt you."
She trembled. "I wore the mark of the Nine, Kael. I helped them."
He looked at the ground. "But you left. You made a choice. And I'm not like the other Whisperers. I don't want power—I want change. I want to break their hold on this world. And I don't think I can do it without you."
Lira's face was unreadable.
"Please," he said. "If I wanted to use you, I already would have."
Lira hesitated… then nodded.
"Kael," she whispered, "I think it's time you knew the truth."