C11-R16-3448 A.E.
The evening chill bit at Kael’s skin as he made his way back to the Grays, the weight of the marsh still clinging to his limbs. His muscles ached from Voravex drills—Renn’s sharp signals, Jax’s sudden strikes, Vara’s final words grating in his mind: Don’t die. Don’t drag us down. He’d survived the first trial, but the real war—quiet, coiled, bureaucratic—waited beyond the mud and sweat. The sabotage had escalated. And it wasn’t going away.
Inside, warmth met him like an old friend. The scent of ashfruit bread hung sweet in the air, weaving through the crackle of low rune-flame. Sera was draped on the couch, a book over her face, one bare foot twitching as she read. Elira hovered near the stove, humming softly as she stirred something golden and fragrant.
They both looked up when Kael stomped in, grime-streaked and restless.
“Long day, Kae Kae?” Sera said without lifting her head, smirking.
Kael grinned through the weariness. “Trainin’s a beast. But I’m good.” He shrugged off his cloak, the weight of sweat and magic-laced adrenaline still clinging to his skin. “Just need to clean up, eat, and head out. Got something important.”
Elira watched him carefully. “You’re sure you’re alright?”
He kissed her cheek. “Fine, Ma. I promise.” He ruffled Sera’s hair on the way to the washroom, dodging the swat she threw at him with a muttered, “Ugh, disgusting.”
Under the hot spray, Kael scrubbed off the swamp and blood-tinged sweat. The water did little to wash away the tension coiled in his core. It wasn’t exhaustion. It was intent.
Dressed again, he broke a warm crust of bread and smeared it with starbloom honey, letting the sweetness anchor him. Then he activated his ArkSeal:
You up? Need to talk. In person. Important.
Lira’s reply came almost immediately:
Don’t you ever rest? Come over.
He called a cab, chewing the last bite as the vehicle pulled up outside. He didn’t need to say a word; his ArkSeal already synced with the driver’s nav. The mana cab glided through Ashport’s nightscape, streets flickering with rune-lamps and shadows stretching long between towers. He watched the light bleed past like war paint.
Lira’s estate emerged from the dark like something carved from authority—runed walls, wardstone gates, the manicured arrogance of Luminaris wealth. Kael’s boots scuffed the polished stone path, dirty and unrepentant. A security officer scanned his Seal and nodded him through.
Lira stood at the door, framed in soft light. Her silver eyes reflected the moon-glow, and her usual jacket had been replaced with a soft, midnight robe. She took one look at him and said, dryly, “You look wrecked.”
“Feel it too,” Kael said, voice low but steady.
There was a pause—neither of them quite sure what greeting they should default to now. They weren’t just allies. Not anymore. But it was too soon for new rituals.
After a breath, Lira simply turned and led him inside. Kael followed her through polished halls and under chandeliers of floating mana-light, the silence between them filled with unspoken tension and something quieter—shared resolve.
She brought him to her private library, a quiet alcove of wood-paneled grace and walls lined with bound tomes and flickering datascreens. She gestured to a chair as she crossed to her desk.
“Alright,” she said, settling in. “What’s going on?”
Kael didn’t sit. He paced once, then faced her head-on. “Sabotage. It’s not subtle anymore. Citations, closures—targeted hits. The kitchens, the pharmacy, the outreach centers. Everything we’ve built.”
Lira’s eyes darkened, her fingers curling against the desk. “Who?”
“Theron Vex,” Kael said, his voice sharp. “Deputy Minister. Clean record until he dropped into power late R02-3445. Now he’s twisting city code like it's wire around our throats.”
Lira’s brows furrowed. “He’s not acting alone. There’s institutional cover.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Kael said. “We fight anyway.”
Lira nodded once, crisp. “We will. I’ll have Vesa file immediate injunctions against every citation. And we won’t stop at the departments—we’ll go after the individuals. We’ll name them. Make it personal.”
Kael’s jaw flexed. “Good. But that’s not enough. I want something they can’t ignore.”
Lira leaned back, studying him. “Go on.”
“I want a public event. A monument—to the fallen children of Brinewatch and the other exterior districts. I’ll livestream it. Invite the press, the healers, the survivors. I’ll speak. Expose the citations. Announce the lawsuits. Let everyone know that if Ashport’s leadership doesn’t change, I’ll take it all the way to federal court.”
Lira’s expression stilled, thoughtful. “That’s not a strike. That’s a declaration of war.”
Kael didn’t flinch. “I know.”
“You’ll make enemies. Even the ones who aren’t involved will see you as a threat. City contracts will vanish. Sponsors will walk. Only the services they absolutely need us for will remain. Right now, that's just nuclear waste disposal. Everything else? Gone. You'll be burning all our bridges in government.”
Kael stepped closer, eyes blazing. “I don’t care. I’m not here to be liked. I’m not here to play council games. I’m a street kid who got lucky, and I’ve seen what happens when people like Vex are left unchecked.”
He paused. When he spoke again, his voice was quieter—but unshakable.
“If I have to choose between bein' silent and bein' a target…
Then paint the damn bullseye.”
Lira was silent for a beat, silver eyes locked on him.
Then she smiled—slow, sharp, and fond.
“You really are a reckless mule,” she said.
Kael cracked a tired grin. “And you love it.”
She reached across the desk and touched his hand, firm and warm. "No. I love you. And whatever you want to do, I'm with you all the way."
“Let’s get to burning.”
