In a brightly lit room, Cassandra sat at her desk reading the reports piled in front of her.

  After finishing the last one, she exhaled and placed it carefully back on the stack.

  "What in the world happened?" she murmured, feeling unsettled. She didn’t know the answer, but she knew Kael was somehow involved.

  The event that had occurred three months ago had since become the capital’s sole obsession—the massacre in the North.

  Cassandra had been the first to learn of it. The merchant who had secretly arranged to bring the two children to the capital had sent her a frantic, incoherent message claiming that everyone in the village had died. Yet, aside from a few bodies that had clearly been killed by swords, the rest simply lay where they had fallen, as though they might awaken at any moment.

  After investigating, Cassandra realized the merchant had spoken the truth. Soon after, the tragedy became public knowledge.

  Grief swept through the capital.

  Parents mourned children who had journeyed north in hopes of a new beginning.

  Children mourned parents who had stayed behind to ensure their families' survival.

  Even the nobility declared public sorrow, though Cassandra knew they grieved more for the lost taxes and harvests than for the lives lost.

  The royal family had yet to release a formal statement, but many assumed the king would discover the cause of the disaster and take revenge.

  "Even this plays into his hands," Cassandra murmured, gazing down at the estate's garden beyond her window.

  She turned toward the maid standing silently near the door, awaiting orders.

  "Have our guests settled in?"

  The maid's otherwise expressionless face twitched faintly.

  "They don't seem like the kind of people to stay in one place for long, my lady."

  “Then give them a reason to stay. I still need them,” Cassandra replied coolly.

  The maid bowed and left the room.

  Cassandra turned her gaze back to the garden.

  "I hope you're well," she whispered softly. "Wherever you are."

  ...

  In a dark, suffocating room, a figure sat hunched over a sheet of paper, surrounded by herbs and dried plants.

  When the page was filled, a frustrated scream tore from her throat. She crumpled the parchment and hurled it aside, adding it to the countless others scattered across the floor.

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  "Why...why...WHY?!" she cried, clawing at her unkempt red hair and pulling until strands tore free.

  After a moment, she stilled.

  Ignoring the fallen locks around her, she reached for new herbs and replaced the old ones with fresh specimens from the chests and shelves stacked behind her.

  "I'll succeed," she muttered hoarsely. "Even if the price is death."

  ...

  Nora sat in his office chair, motionless.

  Shelves lined the walls with minerals, plants, skeletal remains, and even his mass of Motarith, but he paid them no attention.

  His gaze remained fixed on the broken hilt of a blade resting on his desk.

  For once, his usually cool eyes gleamed with something close to excitement as he lifted the hilt and turned it slowly in his hands.

  Beside it lay a sketch of lifeless bodies with open eyes that seemed to stare back at him through the page.

  Nora began to laugh quietly.

  "Very good," he murmured. "Do not disappoint me."

  …

  High in the mountains, a small cave was battered by a raging snowstorm. Only the crackling of the fire could be heard over the wind outside.

  Kael and Astra sat across from each other, the flames between them.

  Exhaustion was plainly carved across their faces after months of travel, and both held trembling hands toward the fire.

  Kael’s gaze drifted from the flames to Astra.

  She felt it immediately.

  "Not again," she said quietly, too tired for another argument.

  “Why not?” Kael shot back.

  His voice carried more frustration than he intended.

  "We've been wandering through mountains and frozen valleys for months, heading north, and we've found nothing."

  His hands tightened near the fire.

  "I thought you knew where we were going."

  Astra slowly lifted her eyes.

  "And I thought you understood why."

  Silence stretched between them.

  The wind howled outside the cave.

  Kael let out a bitter breath.

  "If this keeps up, we'll freeze to death in some forgotten cave without ever getting close to those Mysteries."

  Astra stood up.

  Not angrily. But slowly.

  Deliberately.

  “What do you want from me, Kael?” she asked.

  Her voice was calm but cold.

  "That I tell you we're close? That tomorrow we’ll find exactly what you’re looking for?"

  The flames flickered in her dark eyes.

  “Or do you just want another fight?”

  Kael’s jaw tightened.

  “What does that mean?”

  "It means," Astra said quietly, "that you've been chasing death ever since that night."

  The words hit harder than any blade.

  “You think I don’t see it?”

  Kael looked away.

  Astra continued,

  "You say this journey is about destroying the Words."

  Her gaze hardened.

  "But every time you draw your sword, it looks like you’re trying to punish yourself."

  Kael stood up abruptly.

  “That’s not true."

  “Then prove it.”

  The cave fell silent again.

  The storm outside roared like a distant ocean.

  Kael turned away from her.

  "Whatever."

  His voice was flat.

  Behind him, Astra watched his back in silence.

  She didn't speak again.

  Kael waited until Astra stopped looking at him.

  Then, he lowered his gaze to his right arm.

  Slowly, almost mechanically, he rolled up his sleeve.

  The firelight flickered across his skin.

  There they were again.

  Thin fractures spread across his forearm like cracks in old porcelain. They pulsed faintly beneath the skin, dark lines appearing and fading in time with his heartbeat.

  Kael watched them in silence.

  They had grown longer.

  Yesterday, they had barely reached his wrist.

  Now, they crept further up his arm.

  He flexed his fingers.

  For a brief moment, nothing happened.

  Then, a fraction too late, the movement came, like an echo following the original motion.

  Kael’s jaw tightened.

  It was still worse.

  He had hoped the cold would numb it.

  Instead, every movement sent a dull pain through his arm, as if the cracks ran deeper than the skin.

  The fire shifted.

  For a heartbeat, the fractures glowed faintly.

  Then they vanished again.

  His arm looked normal.

  Kael lowered his sleeve immediately.

  If Astra notices, she would start asking questions and she would never allow me to use the sword again.

  He slowly clenched his hand.

  Pain crawled through his arm like fire through dry wood.

  Kael exhaled quietly.

  So be it.

  If this is the price, I will pay it.