The canyon fell silent after the Smokebound scattered. Elira's fire dimmed, her wrist still glowing faintly. Kael lowered his blade, but his eyes stayed sharp, scanning the shadows.
Then the air thickened.
Smoke rose from the cracks, not drifting this time, but climbing—coiling upward into a shape. A figure. A man. Ember eyes burned through the haze, and the voice that followed was both familiar and terrible.
"Brother."
Kael froze. His hand tightened on the hilt, but he didn't move. "Marlic."
The smoke solidified, forming the outline of a man cloaked in shadow. His face flickered between memory and ash, but the smile was unmistakable. "You let me fall. And now you stand beside her, as if the fire will forgive you."
Elira stepped forward, the crown pulsing against her chest. "You began this war."
Marlic's gaze shifted to her. "No. The crown did. It chose wrongly. It chose hunger once, and shadow refused it. Now it chooses memory. But memory is weak."
Elira's mark flared. "I am not weak."
Marlic's smoke swirled, pressing closer. "Then prove it. Burn your shadow. Burn the brother who betrayed me."
Kael raised his blade, but his voice was steady. "You're not my brother anymore."
Marlic laughed, the sound echoing like fire cracking through wood. "Then you are nothing."
The canyon trembled. Smoke surged outward, forming dozens of figures—Marlic's followers, stronger now, bound tighter to his will. The war had begun, not in whispers, but in fire and shadow.