"A soldier returns not when the battle ends, but when his silence speaks louder than his wounds." - Old Shinobi Saying, Harama Archives
The northern wind carried salt and ash. It swept through Evalia's upper gates long before the riders appeared on the horizon. The guards knew without a horn that it was them - Kabe's unit, returning from the sea.
Ken was already waiting at the courtyard, eyes fixed on the pale trail of dust cutting across the road. His heart beat faster when he saw the grey cloaks, but it sank when he counted fewer riders than before.
Five had left. Three returned.
Their horses stumbled into the courtyard, foam and blood spattering the stones. Kabe dismounted last. His armor was scorched in places where the salt had eaten into steel. He carried no wounds that showed, but his expression said enough - eyes shadowed, jaw tight.
"Report," said Reka-sensei , stepping forward. His tone was steady, but his hands trembled slightly behind his back.
Kabe glanced briefly at Ken before answering. "The northern sea isn't dead. It's… alive."
He pulled a small shard from his satchel - a fragment of metal, dark as ink but glimmering faintly with the light from within. The symbol etched onto it looked like a twisting spiral, half glyph, half wound.
"This washed ashore after the light vanished. I've never seen alloy like it. It hums when the wind hits."
Reka's eyes narrowed. "The mark of Kurogane?"
Kabe nodded. "Not their machines. Their city. It's waking beneath the sea. And something down there knows us by name."
Ken stepped closer, studying the shard. The moment his hand neared it, Rudhana stirred again inside him - a low growl like thunder rolling under his ribs.
"That metal carries memory. Old memory. The kind that cuts."
Ken hissed under his breath and pulled back. "Whatever this is… it remembers pain."
Reka took the shard carefully, sealing it in a containment case. "We'll bring this before the Council. But they won't want to hear it. Not after what just happened with the Divide."
Kabe's tone hardened. "Then we make them listen."
The silence that followed was heavy - not the kind that waits for permission, but the kind that knows the truth will soon be too loud to ignore.
Reka sighed, running a hand through his silver-streaked hair. "The King would have known what to do…"
Ken looked at him. "But the King's gone. That means it's our turn."
Reka gave a faint nod. "Then brace yourselves. The Council of Evalia convenes at dawn. And they will not like what the wind brings."
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That Night
The brothers didn't sleep. They sat by the lakeside courtyard, watching the reflection of the moon waver.
Kabe finally spoke. "When I looked into the water, I saw towers under the sea. Machines moving like they had breath. But one thing stood out-" He paused. "A figure standing atop the tallest spire. It wasn't human."
Ken frowned. "You think it was one of the myths?"
"I don't know," Kabe said quietly. "But it saw me. And it spoke."
Ken waited.
Kabe met his gaze. "It said: 'The Trail remembers its authors.'"
The words sent a shiver through Ken's spine. Rudhana stirred again - not with anger this time, but recognition.
"The Authors… the ones who wrote the first seals. Before Tilbara. Before me."
Ken whispered, "Then who are they?"
But Rudhana didn't answer. Only the sound of the wind and the faint hum of the shard filled the air.
And somewhere deep beneath the horizon, a new vibration began - not thunder, not tide, but something ancient waking once more.