The morning after the storm carried a silence too heavy to feel natural.
Ash drifted from the burnt edges of the forest, settling like snow on the battered ground. Kale stood there, watching the horizon turn gold as dawn broke through the haze. His mana, faintly flickering, pulsed in rhythm with his heartbeat — unstable, restless.
Lyra sat by the campfire, arms wrapped around her knees, her gaze distant.
Varyn sharpened his blade nearby, every scrape echoing in the quiet. None of them spoke for a while. Words felt fragile after everything that had happened.
Finally, Lyra broke the silence.
"Do you remember what the Seer said before she vanished?"
Kale nodded slowly. "That my name… was never supposed to exist."
Lyra's eyes flickered with both fear and fascination. "She called you Aurelion's Shadow. That means—"
"That I'm his continuation," Kale finished. His tone was calm, but his fingers trembled slightly. "He didn't just create cursed mana. He created me… to finish what he started."
Varyn's knife stopped mid-air. "You're saying you're that monster's heir?"
Kale turned toward him, eyes faintly glowing blue in the morning light. "No," he said firmly. "I'm saying I was meant to be. But I won't be."
They broke camp before noon.
The path ahead was torn — cracked earth where magic had clashed, trees warped by lingering mana. Lyra carried her spellbook close, eyes darting between the runes on the pages and the mark glowing faintly on Kale's hand.
"You're burning out faster," she observed quietly. "That last battle... your mana resonance was off the charts. If you keep fighting like this—"
"I know," Kale cut in gently. "But if I stop, others will die."
Her lips pressed into a thin line. "You can't save everyone, Kale."
He looked at her — tired, sincere. "I have to try. My parents believed I could. If I stop trying… then their sacrifice means nothing."
That night, they reached the outskirts of Ravencourt, a city built in the ruins of old human kingdoms.
Once thriving with trade, it now stood half-swallowed by nature and shadow. The inhabitants were wary — mixed bloodlines, hidden beings who lived beneath the notice of both witches and humans.
As they entered, whispers followed them. Someone recognized the mana mark on Kale's wrist.
"Cursed One," someone hissed from the shadows. "Run while you can, boy."
Varyn growled lowly, stepping in front of Kale. "Say that again and I'll—"
Kale placed a hand on his arm. "Let it go."
The words hurt, but he understood. To them, he was a walking omen — a child of disaster.
They found shelter in an abandoned inn. Lyra set up her runes for protection, while Kale sat by the broken window, watching the faint glow of the mana moon through the clouds.
He spoke softly, almost to himself. "Do you ever think names have power?"
Lyra looked up from her spell circle. "What do you mean?"
"My name… Kale. My mother chose it because it meant 'light.' She thought it would hide me from the darkness I was born into."
He gave a small, hollow smile. "But now it feels like the darkness is all that's left."
Lyra approached, her expression softening. "You're wrong. Light doesn't mean the absence of darkness, Kale. It means surviving it."
Their eyes met — for a moment, the air between them was still.
Then a knock shattered it.
Varyn moved instantly, hand on his sword.
Lyra froze, sensing unfamiliar mana outside — cold, deliberate, strong.
Kale's mana flared instinctively as he whispered, "They found us."
The door creaked open.
A figure cloaked in black stepped into the room — face hidden, aura familiar yet strange.
The voice that came from beneath the hood was calm, almost regretful.
"Hello, Kale."
The hood fell back — revealing Seren.
Her blue eyes glowed like his, but colder… emptier.
"I've come," she said, "to bring you home."