The healer's chambers smelled of herbs and smoke, but no scent could mask the stench of decay that clung to the air. Kael sat at the bedside of his sisters, his hand trembling as he brushed damp hair from Elira's brow. Her skin was pale as snow, her lips cracked, her eyes half-lidded. Beside her, Sora shivered beneath her blanket, her breath shallow and uneven.
They had been safe for only days, yet already their strength was slipping.
Kael's voice was hoarse as he whispered, "Stay with me. Please."
Elira's eyes opened weakly. She gave him a faint smile, a shadow of the brightness she once carried. "You always said you'd protect us."
Her words cut deeper than any blade. "I failed once," Kael said, his voice breaking. "I will not fail again."
Sora stirred, clutching at his hand with fragile fingers. "Don't leave us, Kael."
"I won't," he promised, though the weight of the lie crushed him. He could not leave them, but he could not save them either.
The healers gathered around, whispering anxiously. Vale, Eryndor, Mira, and Selena stood close, their faces grim as the head healer spoke.
"The curse is bound to the Demon City. It is not mere magic, but a tether of essence. Their life force drains the further they move from it. Wards slow it, herbs ease it, but nothing breaks it."
Vale's jaw tightened. "Then what must be done?"
The healer's eyes flicked toward Kael. "A bond of blood this deep cannot be severed without power equal to or greater than the one who forged it. Malakar's hand is on them. Unless we undo his work, they will wither."
Kael's hands clenched into fists. "Then I will kill him. I will rip the curse from his corpse."
The healer shook her head. "If you charge now, you will die. And your sisters will still wither."
Kael's blood boiled. His claws threatened to sprout, but Eryndor 's heavy hand landed on his shoulder, anchoring him. "Strength is not fury, boy. Do not waste it."
Kael trembled, forcing his claws back. His sisters' shallow breaths filled the silence.
The council met the next night, voices raised in anger.
"We cannot keep them here!" one commander barked. "The curse could spread!"
"They are innocent," Mira snapped, her voice sharp as fire. "They have suffered enough."
"Innocent or not, their presence endangers Haven. Already, the people whisper. How long before fear drives them to revolt?"
Kael rose from his seat, his eyes blazing. "Say one word against my sisters again, and I will silence you myself."
The chamber erupted in shouts. Galen slammed his hand on the table. "Enough! Kael, your emotions blind you. The man is not wrong. If the curse worsens, it may not be only your sisters who pay the price. Haven could burn for your bloodline."
Kael's rage flared, his claws sparking at his fingertips. "You would see them dead?"
Galen Cassian met his gaze coldly. "I would see Haven survive."
Selena stepped between them, her voice sharp. "Stop it! Both of you." She turned on her brother. "Do you hear yourself? They are girls, Galen. They are Kael's family. Would you cast them aside as if they were nothing?"
Galen's jaw tightened, but he said nothing more. He stormed from the chamber, his cloak snapping behind him.
The silence that followed was heavier than shouting.
Later, Kael sat alone in the training yard, his fists bruised from striking the post again and again. The wolf lay nearby, its golden eyes watchful.
Selena approached quietly. "You are tearing yourself apart."
Kael did not stop. "Good. Perhaps then I will be strong enough."
She caught his wrist, halting his strike. "Strength is not found in breaking yourself."
Kael's voice cracked. "I was powerless. I watched them die. Those children… my sisters… I can't save anyone."
Selena's grip tightened. "You saved me. You saved all of us. Even when you think you fail, you give others hope. Don't you see? That is why Malakar fears you. Not because you are weak. Because even broken, you still stand."
Kael met her gaze, his chest tight. For the first time since the Demon City, his hands stilled.
That night, Elira stirred again. Kael rushed to her side, taking her hand. She looked at him with glassy eyes, her voice trembling.
"It feels like we are being pulled back… like chains on our souls."
Sora whimpered, clutching his sleeve. "Kael, don't let them take us back."
"I won't," Kael whispered, tears in his eyes. "Even if I have to drag you from death itself, I won't."
Eryndor stepped forward, his face shadowed. "You cannot break this alone. The curse is a net cast by Malakar himself. To cut it, you will need allies strong enough to hold the blade steady."
Kael looked up sharply. "What do you mean?"
Vale answered. "The elves, the dwarves, the giants. Even other human cities outside the Holy Land. All have powers we lack. Some still remember the Great War, when your father and Arath united them. If they can be persuaded, perhaps together we can sever this curse."
Kael's eyes narrowed. "And if they refuse?"
"Then your sisters die," Vale said simply.
The words struck like stone.
The Rebellion's debates grew fiercer in the days that followed. Some urged seeking allies, others feared revealing Haven's location. Whispers of mistrust lingered, the memory of Kareth's betrayal still fresh.
Kael sat apart, his sisters' hands in his, their bodies frail and fading. He whispered promises he could not keep, tears staining the sheets.
Finnick and Joren tried to lighten the weight. Finnick performed ridiculous stories, mimicking Vale's voice until Selena laughed despite herself. Joren gambled with soldiers, cheating them so badly that Thrain nearly broke his jaw. Yet even their antics carried shadows.
Mira visited often, her gaze sharp. She spoke little, but her presence steadied him. "You are not the only one who has lost," she told him once, her voice low. "But you may be the only one who can stop it from happening again."
Kael held her words close, even as the curse pulled his sisters closer to death.
One evening, as the sun sank red behind Haven's cliffs, Eryndor stood with Vale and Kael in the training yard. His voice was steady, his eyes unyielding.
"We cannot wait. The curse deepens daily. If we do nothing, they will not survive the season."
Vale nodded grimly. "Then it is decided. We will seek allies. But we must tread carefully. Old wounds run deep. The elves hide in their forests, the dwarves wall themselves in stone, and the giants trust no one. Even the other human cities mistrust us. And the Holy Land will see any alliance as a threat."
Kael's fists clenched. "Then we give them no choice. I will beg, I will fight, I will bleed. Whatever it takes. I will not bury my sisters."
Eryndor 's gaze softened for the first time. "Your father would be proud."
Kael looked down, his voice hoarse. "Then I will be more than his son. I will be something Malakar cannot break."
Haven slept lightly after the rescue. Doors were barred a little earlier, lanterns burned a little longer, and conversations died when footsteps approached. Word of Kareth's treachery had spread like oil on water, a thin sheen that touched every surface and made it hard to breathe. Even the fountains seemed quieter, as if the city held its breath.
Kael trained at dawn with Eryndor in the lower yard where the cliffs kept the wind. The healer's wolf sat in the shade, watching with the patient focus of a guardian. Eryndor circled Kael slowly, bare feet on stone, hands raised, movements spare and precise.
"Again," Eryndor said.
Kael lunged. Wind pulsed from his palm, tight and focused, and struck the old warrior's shoulder. Eryndor rode the force back a step, then cut across Kael's centerline with two quick strikes. Kael blocked the first, took the second to the ribs, and hissed through his teeth.
"You shaped the current," Eryndor said, "but you did not read the rebound. The world answers you. Listen to the answer."
They reset. Kael steadied his breathing. He drew the wind thinner this time, a blade rather than a hammer, and let it skim over Eryndor 's guard. Eryndor twisted, palm brushing Kael's wrist, redirecting the cut into open air.
"Better," Eryndor said. "Now add your weight."
Kael let his back foot settle and stepped through the strike instead of past it. The blade found Eryndor 's hip. The old warrior smiled without showing teeth.
"Good. You are learning to measure. Remember this feeling when the blood sings."
They worked until the light on the cliff warmed from blue to gold. When Kael's arms trembled, Eryndor called a halt and tossed him a waterskin.
"Your demon blood is loud," Eryndor said, voice calm. "You cannot silence it by force. You answer it by giving it a task. Shape, timing, breath, then release. If you feed it emptiness, it will eat you."
Kael drank and wiped his mouth on his wrist. "When Malakar killed the children, I felt nothing but fire. My mind shut. There was only rage."
Eryndor studied him. "Rage is a gate. Some walk through and never return. Your father did not. He learned to open and close it. He learned when to leave it shut." Eryndor nodded at the wolf. "Your companion understands. It can rip out a throat. It can also put its head in a child's lap. That is not two beasts. That is one will."
The wolf lifted its muzzle, as if it knew it had been praised. Kael reached to scratch the thick fur between its ears. The gold eyes softened. His own breathing eased.
They were not alone for long. Vale appeared at the arch with Galen at his shoulder. Selena trailed them, braids tucked beneath a leather hood. Finnick and Joren arrived late, carrying a bundle that clanked softly, which turned out to be breakfast plates that had supposedly been borrowed and never returned.
Vale's gaze took in Kael's sweat, Eryndor 's posture, the wolf's alert stillness. "Progress," he said.
"Enough to keep him alive," Eryndor answered. "Not enough to keep him from grieving like a fool if he thinks grief is strength."
Finnick cleared his throat. "Speaking as someone who has grieved over many loves, grief is a terrible training partner. Very dramatic, poor footwork."
Joren elbowed him. "Eat something so your mouth stops."
Eryndor ignored them both and faced Galen Cassian. "You and Kael," he said, "pair drills. No sorcery. Blade and body. Trade roles every exchange. If either of you tries to humiliate the other, I will set Thrain to tutor you for a week."
Thrain had appeared behind them without sound. He cracked his neck. "Gladly."
Galen Cassian's eyes were cool. "As you command."
They began with slow holds. Kael felt Galen's strength in the wrists and shoulders, clean as a line drawn with a ruler. Galen felt Kael's weight through the hips, a coiled pressure that wanted to drive forward. Neither spoke. The silence was a test.
They quickened. Galen's blade tapped Kael's ribs. Kael's shoulder brushed Galen's guard aside and set the point to his throat. They held, breathing hard. Selena watched without intervening, her mouth pressed in a thin line.
"Again," Eryndor said.
They worked until sweat slicked their grips and both men's tempers had flickered and cooled. When they broke, Galen stepped back and saluted. It was not warm, but it was clean.
"You are less reckless with a blade than with words," Galen said.
"You are less cruel with a blade than with words," Kael answered.
Selena exhaled. "I will take that as peace."
"Call it a pause," Galen said, but he did not look away when Kael offered water, and he drank.
Haven moved around them in small rituals that meant a city was still a city. Bakers cried their wares, smiths hammered a softened rhythm, and children ran with paper kites that tugged at a string in the light wind. The fragile ordinary steadied Kael in a way he had not expected.
That afternoon, Vale convened the inner circle in a narrow hall cut into the cliff. The table was short and functional. Maps lay open, stones pinned corners, notes in three scripts crowded the margins. The air smelled faintly of chalk dust and leather.
Anara of the Northern Watch reported first, face unreadable. "We tightened patrols on the eastern ledges. No sign of spies, but rumor moves faster than boots. The city is afraid."
Magister Ryn folded his hands. "And fear seeks an object. Some whisper that keeping the girls here draws the curse closer. Others whisper that the curse makes the girls no longer human."
Mira's veil snapped as she turned her head. "Anyone who says that in front of me will not finish the sentence."
Lyrel of the Hidden Glade, pale and still as winter, inclined his head. "We can dampen rumor with public truth. Not everything, but enough to show that we do not hide rot under our own floors."
Bramm Stonehand grunted. "Truth is heavy. People prefer lighter loads."
Dael Corwin stood with his hands on the chair back, eyes moving from face to face. "Speak your heavy truth then. Tell them a commander betrayed us. Tell them we cut him down. Tell them the girls are under ward and that the first man who lays a frightened hand on them will answer to me."
Vale nodded once. "We will speak plainly. We will also listen. A city that is not heard goes looking for other voices."
He turned to Kael. "Eryndor and I will take a small delegation to the elf court. Lyrel will open the first door. Anara will begin the lines to Stonehold. Ryn will open a scholarly channel to the giant bells. We start where respect still remembers names."
Kael frowned. "Names like my father's."
"Yes," Vale said. "Names like his. And Arath's. The living also has names. Yours is one of them."
The statement sat in the room like a weight. Kael felt it settle across his sternum, heavy, unavoidable. He did not lift it, but he did not push it away.
They broke at dusk. Kael carried a bowl of broth up to the healer's hall and found Elira asleep, Sora awake and counting breaths with the wolf's muzzle under her hand.
"How many?" he asked softly.
"Seventy," she whispered. "I do not know why I count. It feels like staying."
"It is staying." He sat, and the wolf shifted to lean against his shin. "I am going to leave soon. A few days. Vale needs me to stand and be looked at."
Sora's mouth twisted. "You mean persuade."
"I mean not frighten," he said. "And yes, persuade."
"Will they listen," she asked, "if they look at your eyes?"
He smiled without joy. "Some will not listen if I speak with my mouth."
She fell quiet, then squeezed his fingers. "Bring me back a story. A good one. With a real feast. And a roof you do not have to hide."
"I will bring you back a cure," he said. "And a story."
He sat until her breath lengthened and the wolf's tail thumped once in sleep. On the way out, he met Selena in the doorway with a tray of tea and a look that said she knew how to balance too many cups at once.
"I can carry," he offered.
"You can walk beside me and pretend your hands are full," she said. "It will make me feel important."
He took two cups anyway. They moved through the quiet hall together. Somewhere, a healer laughed once, then hushed herself.
"Galen will accompany you," Selena said, eyes on the tea. "He will say he volunteered. Vale will say he assigned him. The truth is friendly with neither."
Kael nodded. "We trained without trying to draw blood."
"That is progress," she said. "He hears the city's fear as a language he can speak. Sometimes he needs it translated."
"By you," Kael said.
"By anyone willing to keep talking," she answered.
They set the tray down. Selena touched his sleeve. "You are not the only one who cannot sleep."
"I know," he said. "Thank you for staying awake anyway."
Night felt clean. Wind stroked the banners on the cliffs, carrying the scent of lemon leaves and forged iron. Kael walked without aim and found himself standing at the entrance to the cavern of graves. He did not remember deciding to come. His feet had their own memory.
The sword slept where it always had, half-buried in the stone as if the mountain itself gripped the blade. The runes along its spine breathed a faint light. He stepped into the circle, and the air cooled, not with threat, but with attention.
He laid his palm on the leather-wrapped hilt. Heat rose into his skin. The runes brightened, then steadied. His reflection in the polished metal wavered between the face he wore and the face he feared. He did not pull. He did not challenge. He did not ask.
"I will not open the gate because I am angry," he said softly. "I will open it when I can close it."
Light traveled the length of the blade. His demon blood answered with a slow pulse. Not a lunge. Not a demand. An answer. He stepped back, and the light faded to a sigh.
In the days that followed, Haven's stitching held, though every seam creaked. Lyrel arranged a messenger path through the old trees. Dwarven runners arrived with a pouch of metal flakes that shimmered when heated, a polite signal that Stonehold was at least listening. Finnick produced a list of names that no one had asked him to find, all of them traders who knew how to get word where word ought not to go. Joren paid three men to forget what they had remembered, then squared a debt with the baker he had charmed out of six loaves during a famine year. The baker hugged him anyway.
Mira stood before a crowd in the north square and said the word "curse" without flinching. She held out both hands and let her power burn visibly in her palms so that no one could say the city had hidden the fire. Anara posted watches at the healer's door and told them to turn away gossip and admit grief. Ryn wrote three letters that read like mathematics and poetry and sent them with an elf who could walk between one heartbeat and the next.
Eryndor showed Kael scars on his forearms and named each one for a lesson. "This one for pride. This one is for rushing. This one for thinking I could not lose."
"And did you," Kael said.
"Yes," Eryndor said. "Often. What matters is what your hand remembers when your head forgets."
They drilled grip changes until Kael could roll the staff into his palm without looking. They set breath to footwork and taught it to be more loyal than they thought. They practiced small sorcery, the kind a man could hide in a blink. A thread of wind to slip a blade past a guard. A pinch of pressure to numb a nerve. A listening that measured a heartbeat through stone.
At night, Kael read to Sora when she could bear the sound, not stories of heroes, but recipes and bits of old herbals and a list of the names of rivers. Elira slept with the wolf's head on the bedframe and one hand tangled in its ruff. On the fourth evening, her fever broke and returned thinner. The healer said that did not mean less dangerous. It meant the curse was clever.
Galen came to the lower yard on the fifth morning and asked Eryndor to strike him. Eryndor obliged. Later, Galen stood beside Kael in the shade and said, without looking, "I do not forgive easily. I do not forget at all. But I do recognize a man who bleeds for something other than himself."
"I bled because I could not stop it," Kael said.
"Then learn to bleed when it matters," Galen answered, and left before the sentence could sour.
Finnick cornered Kael that afternoon with a bundle of flowers he could not name. "For your sisters," he said, suddenly shy. "They do not do anything except look brave, but sometimes that helps. The florist said so."
"The florist also said the price twice," Joren added, dropping a pouch of copper on the table. "He paid it both times."
"Hero tax," Finnick whispered. "Very expensive."
Kael laughed, a small sound that surprised him. He took the flowers and arranged them badly, and found that the room looked different for it.
Two nights later, Vale gathered the commanders again. The map table wore new marks. A fine thread of silver powder traced a path through the forest to the elven Hall of Branches. A black line climbed the mountains toward Stonehold. A series of dots arced on the page where the giant bells hung, each dot a guess more than a promise.
"We leave at first light," Vale said. "Kael, Eryndor, Lyrel, I. Galen, and Anara take the city watch. Ryn maintains the wards. Mira holds the north square. Dael drills the recruits until they hate him and then keeps going. Finnick, you will charm the merchants. Joren, you will make sure no one remembers you doing it."
Finnick bowed with a flourish to cover the fact that his eyes shone. Joren winked at Thrain and stole an apple from a basket he had brought himself.
Vale's tone softened at the end. "We go to ask. We do not go to beg. We remind them of the price of standing alone. We offer them a place at a table that does not poison the food. We tell them we have a boy who should be a man already, and sisters who do not have time."
No one spoke for a long breath.
Kael slept poorly. Before dawn, he visited the cavern one last time. The sword lay as it had lain since before his grandfather was born. He did not touch it this time. He bowed. That felt right.
The wolf met him at the arch, tail low, eyes steady. It would not go on the road into the courts. It would stay with the girls. Kael knelt and pressed his forehead to the thick skull. The wolf accepted the gesture and huffed a warm breath that smelled faintly of river.
"Guard them," Kael said.
It blinked once. That was a promise.
They rode out through the south gate as the light came thin and clean over the valley. The city watched and did not cheer, but many hands lifted, palms open. Kael felt those hands on his back like a wind. Eryndor rode silently to his right, Vale steady to his left, Lyrel a pale line on a dark horse ahead of them. Galen stood on the wall and did not wave. Selena did, small and quick, then folded her hands as if in prayer.
Haven shrank behind them. The path bent into trees that carried old secrets and older voices. Kael looked forward until the city vanished. He did not look back.
Far away, in chambers built of bone and polished black, Malakar stood before a throne that burned without consuming. Shadows walked like servants. A voice older than stone and colder than iron moved the air without sound.
Malakar lowered his head. "They live. The sisters weaken as written. The boy hardens as required. The city holds, but not forever."
A ripple passed across the throne, like heat over a road.
"He will come," Malakar said. "He will ask for power. He will learn to open the gate. When he does, the door will not be his to close."
The fire inside the crown flared. Somewhere, a chain tightened. Somewhere else, a lock tested its teeth in a dream.
Under the trees, Kael felt a chill that was not the morning and let the breath pass out of him slowly. He set his shoulders and matched his horse to Vale's.
"Listen," Eryndor said quietly.
Kael listened. He heard the forest. He heard the hooves. He heard his own heart even. Beneath it all, softer than a whisper, he thought he heard the sword.
Not now, it seemed to say.
Soon.