The smuggler's routes were barely paths at all—narrow trails that wound through dense undergrowth, across shallow streams, and over rocky terrain that would have been impossible to navigate without a guide. Aria led them through the darkness with uncanny confidence, never hesitating, never second-guessing her direction.
They rode until dawn painted the eastern sky in shades of gold and crimson, then kept riding. Kael's exhaustion was a physical weight, pressing down on him, but every time he thought about stopping, he remembered the monastery burning and found the strength to continue.
It was mid-morning when Aria finally called a halt in a small clearing beside a waterfall. The sound of rushing water would mask any noise they made, and the mist provided natural cover.
"We rest here for two hours," she said, dismounting. "Water the horses, eat something, and for the love of all the gods, wash yourself. You smell like fear and smoke."
Kael slid off Ember's back and nearly collapsed. His legs had gone numb somewhere around hour three. "How much farther to Thornhaven?"
"At this pace? Ten days, maybe twelve. That's if we don't run into more patrols, bandits, or worse." Aria was already setting up a perimeter with small bells attached to thin wire—a early warning system. "We'll need to resupply soon. There's a town called Millbrook three days north. It's on the edge of Venrik's controlled territory, so it's risky, but we don't have much choice."
Kael nodded, too tired to argue. He led Ember to the stream and let her drink while he splashed cold water on his face. The shock of it helped clear his head. He caught his reflection in a still pool and barely recognized himself. His face was gaunt, streaked with dirt and ash. His eyes looked haunted.
"You're thinking too much," Aria said, appearing beside him with her usual silent grace. She crouched by the water and filled her canteen. "I can see it eating at you. The guilt."
"People are dying because of me."
"People were dying long before you left your monastery. Venrik's been terrorizing this realm for decades." She took a long drink, then fixed him with her grey eyes. "What happened back there, with those soldiers—that power. Where does it come from?"
Kael sat heavily on a rock. "I don't know. Master Eldrin said my parents died protecting a secret, protecting me. He said the power in my blood is ancient, that Venrik's been searching for me for seventeen years." He pulled out the leather satchel Eldrin had given him. "He said there were answers in here, but I haven't had time to look."
"Well, we've got two hours. Let's see what secrets you're carrying."
Kael opened the satchel with trembling fingers. Inside were several items: a rolled parchment, a small cloth-wrapped bundle, a letter sealed with wax, and the map he'd already been using. He started with the parchment, carefully unrolling it.
It was a genealogy chart, but unlike any he'd seen. The names at the top were written in an ancient script he couldn't read, but as his eyes traced down the branches, the writing shifted to something more familiar. And there, at the very bottom, was his name.
"Kael Stormborn, son of Aldric the Lightbringer and Mira the Starborn." His voice caught. His parents' names. After seventeen years of not knowing, here they were, written in elegant script.
Aria leaned in, studying the chart. "Those names... I've heard them before. In stories my grandmother used to tell." Her eyes widened. "The Lightbringer was one of the Seven Champions who first defeated Venrik, three hundred years ago. They sealed him in the Void, or so the legends say."
"If he was sealed, how is he here now?"
"I don't know. But if you're descended from one of the Champions..." Aria sat back, her expression troubled. "That would explain why Venrik wants you so badly. The Champions' bloodlines were supposed to carry the power to seal him again."
Kael moved to the wrapped bundle next. Inside was a pendant on a silver chain—a crystal that seemed to hold a tiny star within it, pulsing with soft white light. The moment his fingers touched it, warmth spread through him, and the wild power inside him settled, becoming almost calm.
"Your mother's," Aria guessed. "It's a focusing crystal. Rare and valuable. It'll help you control your magic."
"How do you know so much about this?"
She looked away. "I wasn't always a thief. Before Venrik destroyed my village, my mother was teaching me to be a mage. I had some talent with shadow magic." She held up her hand, and darkness coalesced around her fingers before dissipating. "Not much, but enough to survive."
Kael put the pendant on. Immediately, he felt more centered, more in control. The power was still there, but it no longer felt like it might explode out of him at any moment.
The final item was the sealed letter. Kael broke the wax carefully and unfolded the paper. The handwriting was shaky, as if written in haste.
*My dearest son,*
*If you are reading this, then we have failed to protect you ourselves, and the burden has fallen to Eldrin. I pray he has kept you safe, given you a good life, and prepared you for what must come.*
*Your father and I knew from the moment you were born that you carried something special—not just the power of our bloodlines, but something more. The prophecy spoke of a child born under the Fractured Moon, one who would carry the essence of all seven Champions. You are that child, Kael.*
*Venrik knows this. He has spent centuries searching for you, for with your power, he could break free from the remaining seals that bind him and consume all magic in this realm. But you are also his greatest threat. United with the other descendants of the Champions, you have the power to seal him forever.*
*We cannot tell you to forgive us for leaving you. We died buying time for Eldrin to hide you, and we would make the same choice again. But know that we loved you with every breath, and our spirits will watch over you always.*
*Trust in the resistance. Find Queen Lyanna—she is your father's sister, your aunt, and she can help you. Find the other descendants. And above all, trust in yourself. You are stronger than you know.*
*With all our love,*
*Your mother, Mira*
Kael's hands shook as he finished reading. An aunt. He had family, real family, still alive. And the power inside him wasn't just from his parents—it was from all seven Champions, somehow merged into one.
"Kael?" Aria's voice was uncharacteristically gentle. "You okay?"
"Queen Lyanna is my aunt," he said numbly. "My father's sister."
"That's... that's good, right? You're not just some random orphan. You're royalty."
"I'm a weapon." The words tasted bitter. "That's what this letter really says. I was born to be used against Venrik."
"Maybe. Or maybe you were born to save people from him. There's a difference." Aria stood and stretched. "Either way, we should—"
She froze. Her hand shot to one of her daggers. "Someone's coming. Fast."
Kael scrambled to his feet, stuffing the items back into the satchel. "More soldiers?"
"No. One rider. But whoever it is, they're not trying to be quiet."
They waited, weapons ready, as the sound of hoofbeats grew louder. Then a massive warhorse burst into the clearing, foam flecking its mouth. The rider was enormous—easily six and a half feet tall, with broad shoulders and arms like tree trunks. He wore battered plate armor that had seen better days, and a greatsword was strapped across his back.
The man dismounted with surprising grace for his size and immediately drew his sword, pointing it at Kael. "You. Boy. Are you Kael Stormborn?"
Aria's daggers were up in an instant. "Answer carefully, big man. Who's asking?"
The warrior's gaze didn't leave Kael. "My name is Torven Ironfist. I was Captain of Queen Lyanna's Royal Guard until I failed her. Until I let enemies slip past me and nearly cost her life." His voice was rough with old pain. "I've been searching for redemption ever since. And three days ago, the Queen sent word through the resistance network. The son of the Lightbringer has awakened. She wants him brought to her safely."
"You're resistance?" Kael asked.
"I serve Queen Lyanna, even though I no longer deserve to. I heard about the monastery attack. Heard about a boy heading north with power he couldn't control." Torven's eyes were hard, assessing. "Heard about the soldiers you froze solid and the forest Venrik's burning looking for you. I've been tracking you for two days."
"If you could track us, so can others," Aria said suspiciously.
"Probably. Which is why we need to move, now. There's a patrol coming from the east, maybe an hour behind me. Twenty soldiers, led by a mage." Torven sheathed his sword. "I can help you reach Thornhaven alive, but only if you trust me."
"Why should we?" Aria demanded.
Torven pulled a medallion from beneath his armor—a star within a circle, the symbol of the resistance. "Because I swore an oath to protect the royal bloodline. Because I owe Kael's father a debt I can never repay—he saved my life once, long before the boy was born. And because right now, I'm the best chance you have."
Kael studied the big warrior. There was honesty in his eyes, and deep, bone-deep weariness. This was a man who had been fighting for a long time, who had lost much and kept going anyway.
"What happened?" Kael found himself asking. "How did you fail the Queen?"
Pain flashed across Torven's face. "Assassins. I was drunk on duty—my daughter had just died of fever, and I was drowning my grief. They got past me, got to the Queen's chambers. She survived, but three of her handmaidens didn't. She exiled me, as was her right. I've been trying to earn my way back ever since."
Silence fell over the clearing. Aria looked at Kael, eyebrow raised—his choice.
Kael thought of Master Eldrin, who had trusted him with the truth too late. Thought of his parents, who had died trusting that others would protect him. Trust was dangerous. But so was going it alone.
"Alright," he said finally. "But betray us, and—"
"I won't." Torven's voice was firm as stone. "On my honor and my daughter's memory, I will see you safely to Queen Lyanna, or I will die trying."
"Well, isn't this touching," Aria muttered. "Fine. But I'm watching you, Ironfist. One suspicious move and you'll have a dagger in your kidney before you can blink."
Torven actually smiled at that. "I'd expect nothing less from Aria Nightwhisper. Your reputation precedes you."
"Wonderful. I have a reputation now." She turned to Kael. "We should move. That patrol won't wait for us to finish making friends."
They broke camp quickly, extinguishing all trace of their presence. As they mounted up, Kael felt the weight of the pendant against his chest, his mother's last gift. He had a name now, a history, a purpose.
And he had allies—maybe. Time would tell if that was a blessing or a curse.
"Millbrook?" Torven asked, falling into formation beside them.
"Three days north," Aria confirmed.
"We'll make it in two if we push hard. I know a contact there who can get us supplies and information." Torven glanced at Kael. "Can you keep up, boy?"
"I'm not a boy," Kael said, a hint of steel in his voice. "And yes, I can keep up."
Torven's smile widened. "Good. You've got your father's fire. You're going to need it."
They rode out of the clearing, three unlikely companions bound by circumstance and necessity. Behind them, Venrik's net drew tighter. Ahead lay a realm torn by war, filled with dangers they couldn't imagine.
But for the first time since the monastery burned, Kael didn't feel quite so alone.
The journey to Millbrook would test them all. But it was only the beginning.