Rain swept across Cinderguard with a vengeance. Not the ash-fall of weeks past, but true rain—cold, steady, and cleansing. The city welcomed it with muted silence, letting it wash the soot and blood into the gutters.
Kian stood at the western gate of the Citadel, cloak soaked, arms folded. Beside him, Gellon eyed the narrow bridge that stretched to the gatehouse beyond.
"You sure it's him?" Gellon asked.
Kian nodded. "Kess confirmed it. The glyph signature matches the Thorneveil registry. A forge-binder, displaced after the Vault's collapse."
"And he just shows up now, alone?"
"That's what worries me."
The gates creaked open.
Through the mist and rain came a figure in a patchwork coat of burnt leather and rust-colored cloth. His boots squelched over the stone, and slung across his back was a relic-forge device that pulsed with blue-gold veins of power.
He stopped ten feet from Kian and gave a small bow, more sarcasm than respect.
"Elarin Thorne," he said, voice smooth and unbothered. "Formerly of the Grand Crucible, currently unemployed, slightly cursed, and very tired."
Gellon raised an eyebrow. "You left out arrogant."
"I assumed that was obvious."
Kian held his gaze. "Why are you here?"
Elarin adjusted the forge-pack. "Because your Citadel is the only thing still standing between here and the Rift, and I have knowledge you'll need if you don't want it to eat you alive."
Kian's silence was heavy.
Elarin smiled faintly. "And because you owe me."
Kian blinked. "I've never met you."
"Not yet. But I've read your Codex. Page 74, memory imprint six. You rewrote a binding spell I designed ten years ago, buried in a collapsing memory well. And you did it better."
Kian stared.
"I hate you," Elarin added. "But you fascinate me."
Later, inside the Citadel's forge wing, Kess hovered over Elarin's schematics like a cat ready to knock something off a table.
"This is unstable," she muttered, tracing the edge of his designs. "You're grounding the energy through a six-fold spiral, but the feedback will rupture the alloy."
Elarin lounged on a workbench. "Which is why the spiral collapses backward. It's not stabilizing—it's detonating. Controlled collapse to disable arc-tech wards."
Veyna crossed her arms. "You mean you built a bomb."
He grinned. "I prefer 'negotiation enhancer.'"
"Of course you do."
Jerie poked his head in. "Uh, did anyone else notice the red streak in the sky just now?"
Everyone went still.
Kian rose first.
They found the source an hour later—on the outskirts of the eastern trenchworks. A crater smoldered at the base of the slope, glowing faintly with unstable glyph-light.
At its center sat a child.
No older than ten. Pale, barefoot, dressed in threadbare robes, and surrounded by a perfect ring of melted stone. Her eyes glowed faintly violet, not with fear—but with awareness.
Kess knelt carefully, hands raised. "Hi there. I'm Kess. You're safe."
The girl blinked. "You're loud."
Jerie coughed. "Well, she is."
The girl looked at Kian next. "You built this place."
He nodded slowly. "Yes."
"You're broken."
He flinched.
Gellon knelt beside her. "Do you have a name?"
She looked toward the stars. "Daru."
Veyna squatted down and offered her hand. "Daru, do you want to come with us?"
Daru tilted her head. "If I come… bad things happen."
"We're used to that."
Daru took her hand.
[Predation System: New Thread Detected]
▸ Subject: Daru
▸ Class: Memory Beacon
▸ Danger Level: Unmeasured
▸ Status: Bond Forming
[Architect Codex: External Node Detected]
▸ Node Type: Lost Vaultling
▸ Integration: Partial
▸ New Entry Added: The Stormglass Child
That night, as the rain turned to steam and silence fell over the Citadel, Kian stood on the high wall again.
Seris joined him without a sound.
"She's dangerous," Seris said.
"She's a child," Kian replied.
"She's both."
A long pause.
Then Seris added, "I don't think she's the only one coming."
Kian stared at the horizon. Thunder rolled in the distance.
"I know."
End of Chapter 44