As the sun rose, the black mountain of the Nest was a silhouette of ruin. Kaelen and Lyra, now conscious but weak, stood on a ridge overlooking the valley. They were no longer acolytes. They were no longer assassins of the Veil.
They were two ghosts in a world that was rapidly becoming an iron nightmare.
Lyra looked at Kaelen, her eyes filled with a mixture of shame and love. "I'm sorry, Kaelen. I was afraid."
Kaelen took her hand, his thumb tracing the scars on her knuckles. "Being afraid is part of being alive, Lyra. But from now on, we only look forward."
He looked toward the horizon, where a distant, silver city shimmered—the capital of the High Council. The suspense of their journey had only just begun. The middle-aged man reborn as an assassin had a new Mark: an entire civilization.