They walked beneath a dying sky.
The red had not faded completely. It lingered above them like an open scar, a reminder of what had descended upon their world—and what would one day return.
Ash drifted in silence.
The group moved slowly through the ruined streets, their footsteps the only sound that proved life still existed within the broken city.
The guard led the way, his spear held firmly in his hand. His movements were cautious, deliberate. His eyes never stopped searching.
Even now, even after the Gate had collapsed—
Danger remained.
The boy followed closely behind, his arms wrapped around his mother. Each step sent waves of exhaustion through his fragile body, but he did not falter.
He could not afford to.
The healer walked beside him.
Her presence was calm.
Steady.
Safe.
She glanced at him occasionally, her eyes studying him—not with suspicion, but with something else.
Something closer to curiosity.
"You shouldn't be able to walk this far," she said quietly.
Her voice was gentle.
Not accusing.
Simply observing.
The boy said nothing.
He did not know how to answer.
She continued.
"Most survivors collapse long before reaching this point. Your body is weak. You've lost too much energy."
She paused.
"And yet, you keep going."
He looked forward.
At the ruined world stretching endlessly before him.
"I have to," he said simply.
The healer did not reply.
But her eyes lingered on him for a moment longer.
As if she understood more than he had said.
They walked in silence.
Minutes passed.
Or perhaps longer.
Time had become meaningless.
Eventually, the ruined buildings began to thin.
The broken stone gave way to open ground.
And there—
In the distance—
He saw it.
A camp.
Tents of white and gray stretched across the open field, illuminated by faint blue crystals embedded into metal poles. Figures moved between them—survivors, guards, healers.
Life.
Fragile.
But alive.
The sight stirred something deep within him.
Not hope.
Not relief.
Something quieter.
Something cautious.
They approached slowly.
The guards at the camp's perimeter straightened as they saw the group returning.
Their eyes moved immediately to the boy.
To the unconscious woman in his arms.
To the ash covering his fragile form.
One of the guards stepped forward.
"You found more survivors."
The escorting guard nodded.
"Barely."
The camp guard's gaze settled on the boy.
He did not look hostile.
But he did not look kind either.
He looked like a man who had seen too much death to believe easily in miracles.
"You," he said.
The boy met his gaze.
"What is your name?"
The question was simple.
Normal.
Ordinary.
But it froze him completely.
His name.
The word echoed in his mind.
A name was more than a sound.
More than a label.
It was identity.
It was memory.
It was everything he had been.
Everything he had lost.
His grip on his mother tightened slightly.
Fragments of the past surfaced in his mind.
A warm home.
A gentle voice calling him from another room.
A hand resting on his head.
A smile.
Gone.
All of it gone.
The boy lowered his eyes briefly.
For a moment—
He felt like that helpless child again.
Small.
Weak.
Powerless.
Then—
The warmth in his chest pulsed.
Steady.
Present.
Real.
The ember did not erase his pain.
It did not erase his loss.
But it reminded him of something else.
He was still here.
He had survived.
Slowly, he lifted his head.
His voice was quiet.
But it did not tremble.
"…Kael."
The name left his lips like the final piece of a broken past.
The guard nodded, accepting it without question.
"Kael," he repeated.
As if confirming his existence.
As if anchoring him to this world once more.
The guard stepped aside.
"Enter the camp."
Kael stepped forward.
Crossing the invisible boundary between ruin and survival.
He did not know what awaited him.
He did not know what he would become.
But he knew one thing.
The boy who had run through the ruins in fear—
Was already beginning to disappear.
And in his place—
Something else was beginning to rise.
The ember burned quietly.
Waiting.
---
**Writer's Remarks:**
His name is Kael.
A simple name.
But names gain meaning through actions.
Through suffering.
Through survival.
From this moment onward, the world will slowly begin to remember that name.
And one day—
It will fear it.