The southern outpost of Caerwyn burned through the night.
Flynn arrived with Elior and Lucian by dawn, the smell of scorched stone and charred bodies soaking the wind. The Ember Hand had left no survivors only a sigil scrawled in ash, the shape of a crown split by a dagger.
Lucian knelt beside a fallen knight, face grim. "They knew we were stretched thin here. This wasn't a raid… it was a message."
Flynn nodded. His eyes scanned the blackened remains of the command tent. There, half-buried in ash, a symbol shimmered faintly under the soot an ancient mark of Elaris. Not just any sigil, but one that belonged to Caelan's battalion, the very troop he had once commanded as a commoner rising through valor.
He froze.
Not because of the symbol but because someone had placed it there.
Someone who knew who Caelan was.
"Flynn," Elior called softly. "Are you alright?"
Flynn turned. "This wasn't just an attack… It was personal."
The deeper they searched through the ruins, the more troubling it became. No valuables stolen, no supplies looted only deliberate destruction. A scorch pattern matching rare magical flame a type known to be taught only in the old noble houses of Elaris.
Flynn's thoughts spiraled. What if someone from the old kingdom had survived the purge? Someone who remembered Caelan… and saw Flynn now as the enemy?
Nightfall came quickly. Around the fire, Lucian tried to console a group of rescued villagers. Elior sat beside Flynn, quiet, as if trying to read the storm behind his eyes.
And then Khalid arrived.
Clad in his black-and-gold military uniform, cloak still soaked with rain. He offered no greeting, just moved to Flynn's side like he belonged there.
"You saw the sigil," Khalid said quietly.
Flynn didn't respond.
"Someone's taunting you. They know."
Flynn's voice was like ice. "You mean they know about Caelan."
Khalid looked at him sharply, golden eyes narrowing. "I didn't say that."
"But you thought it," Flynn muttered.
Elior watched the two in silence, his jaw tense.
Khalid took a slow step closer, enough that only Flynn could hear his next words. "If someone knows, we don't have much time before they tell the world who you really are."
"Why do you care?" Flynn asked. "Because if the truth comes out, your precious title might crack?"
Khalid's hand curled at his side. "No. Because if the truth comes out… someone might try to kill you again."
Their eyes locked.
For a moment, there was no kingdom, no titles, no lies only two hearts burdened by history and betrayal.
Elior finally broke the silence. "We should head back. There's nothing left here but ghosts."
Flynn lingered one last second, then turned away from Khalid and followed Elior into the dark.
But Khalid's words clung to him.
"Someone might try to kill you again."
And this time, he wasn't sure who that someone would be.