The sun was low by the time they emerged from the ruins.

  Not setting—

  just dimming behind a curtain of clouds that hadn’t been there earlier.

  Glade-Way had always been a quiet town, but today it felt held-breath quiet.

  Like the world knew something had been disturbed beneath it.

  Kael inhaled the open air, letting the last traces of the chamber’s resonance wash off him.

  It didn’t.

  It clung like dust in the lungs.

  Nyros shook himself violently, scattering mist sparks in all directions.

  Eira brushed debris from her hair.

  Nima sat down on the ground immediately and declared himself “temporarily deceased.”

  Rhoen simply sheathed his blades and exhaled like a man who’d aged five years in two hours.

  “Listen,” he said tiredly, “none of you are leaving Glade-Way tonight.”

  Nima raised a hand without lifting his head. “I would like to leave Glade-Way immediately.”

  “No,” Rhoen said.

  “Can we vote?”

  “No.”

  Nima groaned and fell backward.

  Kael lowered himself to sit on a broken stone wall. The evening breeze ruffled his hair, and for a moment the world felt… normal.

  Then the memory of the Fragment’s voice crawled up his spine again.

  Not yet.

  Find the rest.

  Too slow.

  Nyros hopped onto the wall beside him and butted his head into Kael’s chest.

  Kael managed a small smile, running his fingers through the fox’s fur. “I’m okay.”

  Nyros looked up at him.

  Lie, his eyes said.

  Kael sighed. “Fine. I’m… mostly okay.”

  Eira approached quietly and sat next to them, pulling her knees up. “I hate mid-bosses.”

  Kael snorted. “We’ve only met one.”

  “Yeah,” Eira said. “And I already hate them.”

  Nyros chuffed in agreement.

  Nima rolled over with the strength of a dying beetle. “I hate stairs.”

  If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  Eira threw a pebble at him. “No one mentioned stairs.”

  “I’m just saying it for the record.”

  Rhoen cleared his throat. “The Guild will need a full report. But… that can wait until morning.”

  Kael blinked. “Morning?”

  “Yes.” Rhoen crossed his arms. “Because tonight, you are resting. All of you. Especially you.”

  Kael pointed at himself. “Me? Why?”

  “Because,” Rhoen said, “I watched you collapse after a Fragment scanned your entire soul. You are absolutely not fine.”

  Kael opened his mouth to protest.

  Eira put a hand over his mouth. “Don’t. You’re not winning this one.”

  Kael mumbled something tragic beneath her palm.

  Nima sat up. “Actually… rest sounds good. I haven’t slept since the resonance chains tried to hug me.”

  “They weren’t hugging you,” Eira said.

  “They were hugging me with knives.”

  Kael rubbed his neck where the Fragment had grabbed him. The wrap Eira applied was cool, but the memory of that resonance—

  that recognition—

  wouldn’t leave.

  Eira watched him quietly.

  “You’re thinking too hard,” she said.

  “I’m always thinking.”

  “You’re thinking dangerously hard.”

  Kael smiled weakly. “You can tell?”

  “You get this look,” Eira said. “Like you’re trying to solve a puzzle using guilt.”

  Kael blinked. “That’s… specific.”

  “That’s Kael,” Nima muttered.

  Kael leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “That Fragment… It wasn’t just attacking. It was remembering. Or trying to. And whatever it was remembering… it involved me.”

  “You don’t know that,” Eira said.

  “It called me ‘Son,’ Eira.”

  Silence fell.

  Even the wind quieted.

  Eira’s voice softened. “Kael… that doesn’t mean—”

  “It wasn’t my father,” Kael said firmly. “But something in it recognized Auron. And if it recognized him… it recognized what’s left of him. Inside me.”

  Eira reached out and touched his hand.

  “Hey,” she said gently. “Just because the world is trying to drag you into its problems doesn’t mean you have to carry them alone.”

  Kael chuckled. “I’m not alone.”

  Nyros wagged his tail proudly.

  Nima raised his hand. “I’m here too. Useless, but present.”

  Eira ignored him. “Kael, we will deal with this together. You don’t have to run off or shoulder everything yourself.”

  He looked at her.

  At Nyros.

  At Nima, who was dusting crumbs off himself from absolutely nowhere.

  He exhaled.

  “…Okay.”

  “Good,” Eira said, standing. “Because we need food. And sleep. And maybe thrown-out clothing, because mine smells like underground misery.”

  Kael smirked faintly.

  But then—

  The spool in his pocket pulsed.

  Soft.

  Warm.

  Like a heartbeat.

  A lullaby hummed inside it.

  A thread of resonance brushing Kael’s ribs.

  He stiffened.

  Eira noticed immediately. “Kael?”

  He pulled the spool out.

  Eira stepped back.

  Nima dove behind a barrel.

  Nyros growled.

  Rhoen’s hand went to his blade instantly.

  But the spool didn’t glow aggressively.

  It simply pulsed once…

  and projected a tiny silver thread in the air.

  The thread bent.

  Curved.

  Pointed.

  North.

  Eira’s eyes widened. “It’s showing you where to go.”

  Kael nodded slowly. “The northern Fragment.”

  Rhoen stepped closer. “Not tonight. Tomorrow we plan. Properly. With a full Guild escort.”

  Kael didn’t argue.

  He didn’t trust his voice.

  Eira rested a hand on his shoulder. “We’ll face it together.”

  Kael looked out toward the horizon, where dusk had deepened into a heavy violet.

  The Mist inside him swirled.

  Calling.

  Warning.

  Waiting.

  “…Yeah,” he said quietly. “Together.”

  Nyros barked once.

  Nima, from inside a barrel, yelled, “I AM HELPING TOO WHETHER YOU LIKE IT OR NOT.”

  The tension broke.

  Eira laughed.

  Kael smiled.

  And for one brief moment, before the storms ahead,

  they felt like travelers at dusk—

  a small team against a vast world.

  Together.

  Northern Fragment, a place tied to Kael’s past in ways he’s not ready to admit.

  The Northern Call.